Sometimes he, with the grey-haired banshee shrieking by his side, drives a black coach drawn by six black horses with tails sweeping the ground and no heads. Flickering candles set in the hollows of skulls light the way; there's a flash of white from the wheel spokes as they turn--for they are made from a thigh-bone. A man's spine serves as a pole, and a mildewed pall (the cloth that covers a coffin), well chewed by the worms, covers it all. The dullahan serves no master but death.

In fear of the headless rider; men alone in the fields at night cower behind the bushes because of his reputation with a whip. With his whip he can accurately remove the eyes of all mortals foolish enough to spy on his ventures. Since he has no head, he is somewhat defective in seeing and the dullahan resents those with skilled vision.

The dullahan has a number of cousins and headlessness appears to be a family trait. Nothing puts fear into these creatures except gold. You can be saved by as little as the drop of a gold pin.