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I need help with a PC who wants to run a Druid of Sheela Peryroyl, the proficiency Herbalism from Second Ed D&D translates into what in Pathfinder 1E?
Caedwyr's suggestion of using the appropriate skill for what you want to do, and flavoring it as herbalism, might be the best bet. Craft (alchemy), Heal and / or Knowledge (nature), or, if you want to do it as a daily job, Profession (herbalist), perhaps (although you might make more money using Craft (alchemy...)).
There's also Herbalism which is kinda awesome, although painful if your player has their heart set on a furry friend / animal companion. Wis 16 gives me 3 free potions of 1st level Druid spells (like cure light wounds) *every day?* Yes, please!
How about the proficiency for Agriculture? Profession Farmer?
Knowledge (nature) or Profession (farmer), again, depending on whether they want to make a daily job of it, or just have some relevant knowledge left over from a childhood / church training on the farm.
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Yeah, Knowledge (nature) seems like the right choice.
In other news, I want a pickle themed alchemist AT for a goblin alchemist NPC / foe for a game.
His outre powers are going to involve;
A) extracts made entirely from pickled stuff (he's got a 'fire breath' spell that requires an extract made from fiery chiles, radish chunks and meat from a gland from a fire breathing lizard, a concoction that is strangely flavorless and bland, all of it's 'heat' absorbed and transmuted alchemically into the fiery breath weapon the drinker produces).
B) 'pickled punks,' tiny creature embryos suspended in little pickle jars that he flings down within 30' and form over the next round into full size beasties from the summon nature's ally spell list (except for elementals, he can't create elemental embryos in his workshop, 'cause they ain't got none). During the round of growth, they have only half hit points and cannot attack, writhing around and growing to their full size (and counting as one size class smaller, to a minimum of Diminutive, for AC purposes), but after that, they function normally for their creature type.
C) he can throw, instead of fiery bombs, bombs of pickle juice that act as if they had the acid bomb discovery, plus he has a discovery to make them extra rank, nauseating the primary target and sickening those splashed.
He can't learn the fiery, icy, whatever bomb discoveries.
The path of the Mad Pickler What Pickles at Midnight is a hard one and accepts no diversions.
Obviously this isn't meant for a serious game. :)
Monstersdownthepath on tumblr has a wonderful alchemist homebrew for a goblin pickler called the Brinesmith! It has good acid fume bombs and the ability to pickle itself in combat.
https://monstersdownthepath.tumblr.com/post/175964457025/homebrew-archetype -brinesmith
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Hey Set. No real requests, I was just fanboying in this thread again, thought I'd just see how you're doin'.
Well, that's a long story.
Brain cancer. But 'the good kind' that's not really cancer, just a big honkin' tumor that had been there for decades, probably, and was slightly bigger than a golfball. It's mostly been removed now, and thank goodness for a government job and full insurance, I have zero medical debt. But also lost my voice, use of my right side (about 90% recovered), hearing on that side, and, most tragically, half the taste buds in my mouth. (Peanut butter, still yummy. Chocolate, tastes like mud. Like I said, tragedy!) :) The laundry list of other life-changes bores even me, but I'm actually doing okay.
So that's the short, short version.
Hopefully stuff with you is less 'interesting' in the ancient-Chinese-curse sense of the word? :)
Full disclosure I'm flagging a bit in my own creativity so I was re-reading some older stuff and this thread is SPECTACULAR inspiration fuel.
Yeah, I used to be just overflowing with ideas about Pathfinder. I remember that one Qadira-themed Wayfinder where I submitted *fifteen* articles, and poor Tim had to make a 'no more than three!' rule just for me. :)
These days the muse is more about comic books and Mutants & Masterminds, but still keeps me up nights with ideas!
My last PF idea was for a race of Babelspawn, which formed when some old researcher (Norgorber-worshipper, actually) stumbled upon secret texts that allowed him to work out some of the ancient 'words of creation' some of the gods had used in the creation of the world (in theory, he's got no real proof of that...).
In any event, they were definitely 'words man wasn't meant to know,' and they are *contagious.* Hearing the words spoken aloud, or reading them (and comprehending them, so being unable to read Celestial makes you immune to the written text!) infects you with a mania similar to a never-ending Barbarian rage when in the presence of those not infected with the word. When nobody is around but other infected 'Babelspawn,' they calm down and ransack any texts in the area, desperate to read anything to tease out more potential words of creation that they believe are hidden in *any* written texts.
Basically an infection that spreads by hearing it (or reading it), particularly affecting those who speak Celestial (or, to a lesser extent, Infernal, which is derived from it), and turns these, mostly physically non-threatening scholars and researchers, and then anyone else they spread it to, into babbling berserkers who want to kill you and read your stuff!
Other fun threads for inspiration fuel include some of the 100 things type threads, like the ones about variant Aasimar and Tiefling appearance quirks, or the 'Create your own Empyreal/Demon Lord/Archdevil' threads. I liked those a lot.
Hopefully you're staying safe and healthy. I think I've seen you on other threads so I think you're ok. If, though, you had any more fey or aberrant stuff laying around you wanted to share... *hopes petulantly*
Still around for now. I'm not doing PF2, so the creative urges aren't as fresh since I lack the mechanical know-how to translate my ideas into this game language, but I still enjoy the community and the setting.
The Babelspawn idea, above, could be easily adapted to an Aberrant thing, with Aklo being the vector language. (Fey seems less on-theme.)
At higher levels, or more unpredictably, Babelspawn clusters could be found with odd goods and materials. Crates of parchments, inks and quills. (The sorts of things a bunch of librarians might 'wish for' if they had a wishing engine.) Ornate non-magical armor and fanciful (but non-masterwork, and sometimes not-entirely-correctly-designed) weapons on everyone. Piles of clothing in outre styles and vivid colors. Hundreds of bottles of fine wine, all strangely identical.
Strange circumstantial evidence that *some* Babelspawn has actually gotten these 'words of creation' to work...
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Wow! Just glad you've recovered as much as you have and I hope more health and wellness in the future sir. Also Babelspawn are, of course, an amazing idea!
Thanks. I forgot to mention until I was at work later that the 'cure' for being infected with the 'words of creation' is a Modify Memory spell. And, hopefully, not to hear it again. (If you know you are going to face them, stopping up your ears with wax, like Oddyseus with the sirens, is a good solution.)
Mutants and Masterminds/comic book stuff huh? Where can your fans stalk you for that kind of discussion?
Sadly Green Ronin.com recently shut down their forums, so I'm still looking for a decent place to land. Echoes of the Multiverse has a few of the old gang, so I'll probably head that way, eventually.
I was always a Marvel Super Heroes guy myself. Tried V&V back in the 80s, also did the Paladium supers stuff, TMNT, Big Eyes/Small Mouth, and a couple other comic book type games, but always came "home" to Marvel.
Yeah, I also started with Villains & Vigilantes (the game that taught me math...), then GURPS Supers, Aberrant and Mutants & Masterminds. Now looking at Icons, which is a very simplified game, compared to most, with a cartoony house style, but looks fun.
Anyway, seriously, I'm glad to hear you're recovering. Thank you for all of your "stuff," in this thread and elsewhere.
Thanks as well. You've had some fun ideas as well, on the Flora & Fauna thread, to name just one that I can remember off the top of my head. (Your idea in the 'what do intelligent monsters do all day of an entire tribe of mites cranking out tiny leather armors and crossbows with spider poisoned bolts was wicked!)
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Random thoughts on a Magaambyan NPC I'll never use;
Garylkyr 'the Garylith'
Priestess N’dulu had never quite reached the savage heights of power and influence that she felt she’d long deserved, and hatched a scheme to drag her weak-minded Bekyar followers into a fresh war against the soft people that crowded their border and defiantly fished the seas just beyond their reach. She lacked the power to bind a demon to this world to lead her people into glorious victory, but with a ritual she had found, she could bring one for just one night, for a sacred purpose. The joining was grueling, but she tolerated weakness in none, least of all herself, and eight and a half months later, after a birthing as bloody as any battlefield, delivered herself of a half-demon child. Exhausted, she remained conscious long enough to smile a red smile at the infant’s six flailing arms, lusty cries and flailing serpentine tail, so like his dread father.
Against all predictions, she regained at least some of her strength, enough to feel despair and rage as the weeks became months and the thing she’d labored so hard to bring into this world failed to prove the mighty and terrible half-demon champion she’d wished for. The child had demonic traits, it was true, but hardly the strength, savagery and innate spellcraft she’d sought in a warlord meant to unite the fractious tribes and inspire them into greater fervor for the glory of great Angazhan. Indeed, the child, for all his fearsome appearance, seemed little better than a lowly tiefling! She was as savage as the beasts of the jungle, as unrelenting as the storm, as unforgiving as death itself, hoping ever to beat into this wheezing disobedient soft-headed child the strength and glory of his demonic heritage, and so awaken the demonic powers of chaos and destruction, the rage and lust for carnage she knew *must* lie within him, just seeking to be called forth, like to like. He learned in that time the arts of war from the savage berserkers, to channel his anger and frustration into powerful violence, as well as to draw upon the chaotic forces in his blood, to work demon sorcery, in the tradition of his people, to rattle bones and inflame passions.
It was his thirteenth year of this torment that Garylkyr, so accustomed to standing still and quiet, hoping his wrathful mother would forget his presence, overheard her plotting with a quasit that served her how she would ‘salvage’ what she could of his demonic blood, mating him to a succubus she would call forth, in hopes that at least this grandchild could finally be the demon-blood Bekyar warleader of her dreams. He knew that she would spend days in ritual purification to summon such a servant of Angazhan, and he waited until she was busy in her preparations before seizing up the messenger pouch he had born to deliver her proclamations to neighboring tribes (for she had never told those around how much she despised her weak son, counting on his fiendish appearance to deceive others into thinking she greatly honored them, to send a personal message in the hand of her half-demon firstborn) and left in the night. Seeing the beaded pouch, none stopped him, thinking him on some task for his powerful mother, and he moved quickly across the Bekyar border territories, until he reached the sea, where he threw his pouch into the water and then joined it, taking to the water as only a strong young man with six arms and a serpent’s tail could.
He quickly had to abandon most of his belongings, useless impediments in the water, keeping only a gourd of fresh water, the masterwork scimitar his mother had begrudgingly gifted him after learning to channel his rage, and a pair of daggers. He swam towards the northern lands, knowing that he was leaving Bekyar-haunted waters far behind, following the current ever north, keeping the shore in sight on his right. He knew not the dangers of the ocean, nor of whatever distant shore he would land upon, but feared them less than returning to his mothers’ wicked dream of being mated to a demon, in the hopes that his blood might be more useful to her than he had been. He never even saw what bit him in those dark waters, and washed up on the beach delirious and near-death, to be found by an old blind woman and the simple young man who served as her eyes on her morning rambles.
“It’s a fish-man, Auntie! But he has many arms, like a spider, a spider-fish!” Ife cried, looking to Auntie to see her reaction and judge if he should be scared or curious. She seemed more curious than afraid, and he led her to the still body. She had thought that Ife had perhaps poorly described a dead grindylow, in his simple way, or worse, a grindylow that was not quite yet dead, but upon feeling the boy’s arms and serpentine tail, she knew that she had found something quite different. She also found the wound on one of his many arms, swollen and hot with venom, which even without eyes she could tell by smell and feel was from a sea snake’s bite, and she sent Ife running back to her home to fetch her healer’s kit.
And so Garylkyr awoke in the hut of the woman he only ever knew as Auntie, for no one in the village seemed to remember her actual name. The former midwife had delivered more than half the adults and all of the children in the village before a fungal infection took her sight, and she had sharp words for any who tried to convince her that she could not harbor this demon-thing from the sea in her home, striking with her walking stick to crack the shinbone of any, headman or priest, who spoke out of turn under her roof, until they threw up their hands and muttered angry empty useless words, before leaving her to her madness.
Months passed, and soon the villagers stopped making warding signs against evil when he slithered along the beach, Ife in tow, chattering away happily, and it was Garylkyr’s interaction with the exasperating boy that finally eased their minds. Ife had always had a rare gift for doing exactly the wrong thing, getting himself into all sorts of dangerous situations that an ounce of common sense could have prevented. He had been assigned to ‘help’ Auntie as much for his protection, as hers, as left to his own devices, he would inevitably find trouble. And so, Garylkyr’s seemingly superhuman patience with the boy, earned him much respect with the people of the village.
Still, Garylkyr had power from his demon blood, his simple sorcery being used almost furtively, as he feared then source of his power, that it was a thing of chaos and wickedness, with a will of its own. Auntie told him that was ridiculous. He used his gifts, however sparingly, to make their lives easier. Did that seem like a thing of madness and violence? She told him he needed to go to Magaambya, and learn to embrace his gift, but he balked, and she relented, not willing to give him yet more of the rejection that he had known so much of his life. Only after a rogue ape, maddened by the taint of Angazhan’s ‘blessing’ had to be killed by the villagers that he realized that the agents of his mother did not have to be Bekyar, but even a simple monkey in the trees could have a wicked mind and pass word that would reach his mother that a six-limbed serpent-tailed youth had been seen not far from Bekyar lands. Even if such a day never came, he could not sleep under Auntie’s roof knowing that he could bring doom in his wake, and he agreed to travel to Magaambya. “But Auntie, what if my doom follows me there? Her rage is mighty…” “To storm Magaambya itself? Oh dear boy, your mother had better bring her demon-god with her, and even then, I do not think she would win!” Auntie scoffed. And so she sent word around, and found a few potential students were passing near soon enough, to go to the great school, and Garylkyr met new faces. A half dozen Zenj looked upon him with wide eyes, and made the expected signs against evil, muttering prayers and brushing circles in the dirt with their sandals. He tried to look unintimidating, and forget that he had tasted the flesh of their kind as a boy. Two figures he did not recognize, a boisterous male and a female with a penetrating stare, were of the Matanje, and he found his first kindred spirit on the journey to Magaambya, long before reaching that place, for T’suq, the louder and more sociable orc, was also a demon-blood sorcerer, pointing to the tiny hornlets at temples, cheeks and chin, “Although not nearly so much demon-blood as you! Hah!” T’suq exclaimed, in that energetic way of his. His possible mate, it was unclear to Garylkyr their exact relationship, since neither of them seemed jealous of the others flirtations, was named Rakar, and was, like Garylkyr, both a student of the blade and the spell, although something of a scholar as well.
A year in Magaambya brought about many changes.
Garylkyr pestered his sponsor, an Amurran sorceress with angel-blood, wishing to know if he could somehow transmute or replace his demon-blood with angel blood, and become a celestial sorcerer like her. Rayomi Mir, who had spent her childhood a ‘divine gift’ in a temple of Bast, exploiting her heavenly light to cozen offerings of coin from the gullible, and engaging in petty theft and confidence games, assured Garylkyr that the blood of angels does not carry any innate knack for virtuous behavior, and that his own demon blood likewise does not carry a curse of destruction. “Your anger is your own, not something you can’t control, something forced upon you, but a choice you have made, and you must learn to control. No blood in your veins will master your rage. You must take responsibility for your temper, and master it yourself, or continue to blame it on your blood, and be mastered by it.”
He also has learned that while sorcerers cannot readily call upon the healing gifts of priests, they can sometimes ‘trick’ a scroll of such magic to work for them, and seeks to master this knack, so that he can purchase a scroll of priestly magic to cure blindness, and travel to the Bonuwat village he has decided is his home, and give Auntie back her eyes. (He is less sure if restorative magic could help Ife find the wits he seems to have misplaced, but is willing to give it a shot.)
Finally, he has noticed entirely too many of his fellow students pairing off, splitting up, and pairing off anew. An endless swirling dance, some partners always in each others orbit, others changing with the season. There are a very few Bekyar at Magaambya, tall and lean and radiating the intimidating and unfriendly aura of his people, but they speak not to each other, let alone him. The Iruxi are quiet and relaxing to be around. So long as he does not speak, he is welcome to sit with them in the sun, and enjoy a companionable silence. But he wants more. He wants to join the dance. Only his Matanje friend T’suq seems to have the will (or courage?) to flirt with him, and he remains uncertain what Rakar would think of that, with her hot-eyed judging looks.
Another Bekyar would recognize his name as not being a Bekyar term. T’suq, conversant in the tongue of demons, recognizes the word ‘garylkyr,’ which the orc refuses to call his friend, instead cheekily calling him ‘the Garylith.’
His mother finally gave him that name a month after his birth, when she had determined that he lacked the powerful demon blood she sought. Garylkyr is the Abyssal word for ‘disappointment.’
[Garylkyr is an Abyssal tiefling with all sorts of extra bits. Six arms (and the multiweapon fighting feat). A serpent's tail instead of lower legs (20 ft. ground move and the dwarven slow and steady trait, as well as a 10 ft. swim speed). A broad chest and powerful lungs. (Can hold breath three times as long as normal. If demon sorcery is a bust, he'll make a hell of a pearl diver!) 1 level of Barbarian, 2 of Abyssal Sorcerer. Weapon Focus (scimitar) among his feats. Tail lacks the flexibility to constrict others or be used as a weapon, but does make him immune to being tripped, at least! He's not meant to be a PC, so his having six arms isn't that big a deal, particularly with his low level and unexceptional attributes, lacking all the 'oomph' that comes with an actual half-fiend's bennies. Oh, and even his human side is scary, 'cause he grew up a casual cannibal (which he's totally over, being good aligned by choice)... He's quite possibly the oddest student that PCs will see slithering around the Magaambya!]
Always good to see you.
Random thoughts on a Magaambyan NPC I'll never use;
Garylkyr 'the Garylith'
Garylkyr is the Abyssal word for ‘disappointment.’
HEY!!!
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HEY!!!Random thoughts on a Magaambyan NPC I'll never use;
Garylkyr 'the Garylith'
Garylkyr is the Abyssal word for ‘disappointment.’
I needed a name that worked with 'Garylith,' because my mind is like 80% wordplay, dad jokes and terrible puns.
And his mom is named after one of the 'Type VI demons' from the 1st edition Monster Manual. 'Balor' was one of the other name choices.
My brain, such as it is. :)
I kept coming up with more whacky details, I had to prune them. The Ant Gnoll students and their Napoleanonic complex, and the Taralu Draconic Sorcerer being super generous and not at all territorial, and being more proof that blood is not destiny were not necessary to present the character. :)
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Few in the Inner Sea know much at all of the Houses of Perfection, which are seen as foreign and exotic things, or know that the Houses that traveled to Jalmeray from distant Vudra are not the only ones.
The leadership of the House of Unending Earth did not choose to make the journey, for their mission required them to remain close to their own lands and people. While as capable at combat as the other schools, the Unending Earth focuses on medicine and pressure points, and serves as much as a school for midwives and healers, as for fighters, and finds themselves in great demand in that role.
But the sixth great school, the House of Unbending Reed, was in disfavor, and nearly disbanded, at the time of Khiben-Sald's grand pilgrimage to Jalmeray. A school based on the principles of the element of wood, as some term it, a student learns to strike with blows as hard as wood, as sharp as thorn, and yet to dance aside from counter-attack like a leaf in the wind, or a reed bending with the current. They favor wooden weapons, the staff, for which they know many techniques, as it is their signature weapon, paired short clubs, and even knobbed clubs weighted for throwing, and defensive feats like Dodge, Combat Expertise and more specialized variations (such as a version of Dodge which only applied to a single chosen visible target, giving a +2 AC, but provided no bonus against any other attacker). But what caused them to fall from favor, for a generation, was the use of plant-based toxins, not merely powerful paralytic poisons, but even simple irritants, like the oil of the itching ivy, smeared onto one's outer robe to weaken a rival prone to using grappling techniques, or onto a scarf that is then woven around a rival before an exhibition, so that they be disadvantaged when that contest comes. Such things were of little use in combat, as one could rarely have access to one's foes an hour or more before the actual fight, and primarily proved useful to the school in cheating at competitions and embarrassing rivals, which was the great shame that brought their House low for many years.
But that time has passed, and new leadership has arisen. Perhaps the Unbending Reed will find a chance for redemption in this new age?
[Not in love with the names, Unbending Reed is not as cool as 'Untwisting Iron.' Might change that later.]
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Drabble
The one who answers now to ‘Hruff’ had another life once, with a bold name that weak human mouths can't pronounce, running the skull-cobbled streets of Whitethrone with his mate and new pup, strong and proud and feared by those they loped past. And then that damned ice troll did not back away, and his proud pup, too young to know the dance of who must back down to who, growled a challenge to the troll, and was snatched up and bitten nearly in half by the insulted troll. Their fury as one, his mate and he charged forward to avenge their pup, but they were no match for the troll’s strength, and whatever wounds they inflicted upon him no doubt healed long before he regained consciousness beside the mauled and lifeless body of his mate, and mere stain on the ground where his only child had lain, no doubt snatched up and devoured by the troll as it departed. It took him days to recover from the savage gashes in his once sleek coat, and he found himself cast down amongst his own people, no mate, no pup, no pride, no status, thought to be cursed by the ill fortune that had befallen him by his own superstitious folk in this land of witchery. By the time he had regained his strength, his mad plan to revenge himself was a flurry on the wind, as the troll his heart burned to kill was already dead, consumed by witchfire for the crime of damaging one of her favored Jadwiga consorts. And so he slunk the backstreets of Whitethone, eking what life he could, unable to see past the bitter taste of his own failure.
Ansza had her own child, a precocious daughter named Darvi by her father, who had died years before, breaking river-ice to keep trade flowing in the witch-kingdom. Children are rare and precious in the land of eternal winter, and some even say, selfish and unwise to bring into a world where they will be at best, oppressed and enslaved by the cold-hearted witches in their ice palaces. But Darvi was all Ansza had to remember her lost love, and did not allow winter to freeze her heart, clinging to a whisper of Summer’s Return, less a promise than, it seemed, a childish fantasy, most days…
It was a completely different ice troll that decided little Darvi would make a fine bite-sized morsel to fill her belly, when Ansza struck her with a broom, in an attempt to distract the brute from her daughter. She succeeded at the cost of her life, as the troll tore into her savagely for the audacity of such an offense, but the troll had not noticed the scarred winter wolf watching from the alley. Seeing a chance to tweak the nose of an ice troll, he surged forth as the troll killed brave Ansza, and snatched the child up in his jaws, dashing away and across the street into another alley faster than the troll could react, entering a narrow passage where the lumbering troll could not quickly follow. Brave little Darvi struck to no effect at his snout, and he ‘hruffed’ with a mix of contempt and amusement, thinking only in that moment of getting clear and devouring this morsel himself.
But something in her defiance, unwise as it was, reminded him of his own pup, and he decided that if he could no longer be a proud wolf, feared and respected, then he would at least be better than a *troll,* and turned for one of the warm buildings where humans gathered to poison their bodies and minds, so that they remained numb to and accepting of their fallen state,
Reaching the tavern, he realized that he could not open the door without releasing the child, and so reached out to the Hag’s Gift, a magic he had seen used by other wolves, but never called upon himself, feeling it beneath him to walk on two legs, and assumed the form of a man. And so he opened a door with a human hand, for the first time in his life, and strode into the tavern holding a human child by the scruff of her neck in the other strong hand, over six and a half feet of white-haired, blue-eyed, orc-tusked apparently Ulfen man, stark naked.
The bartender was the first to speak, his voice curiously low, “Close the damn door. Not all of us have ice for blood.”
[Hruff eventually is cursed to be stuck in man-form, in which he is clumsy and uncouth, at first, but hey, 6 magical beast HD and a 6d6 cold breath weapon is a fun trick for a 2nd level Barbarian to toss out when his greatsword and Intimidating Glare isn't getting it done.
Darvi has accumulated a level of Rogue and a level of Alchemist in the decade she's spent tagging along with her surly 'not a wolf anymore' protector, and always prepares infusions of cure light wounds, because there's not a day that Hruff doesn't get in a fight with *something,* especially in a post-Summer's Return Irrisen, where even *ex* Winter Wolves are not exactly welcome...
Darvi's still precocious, attracts far too much attention with her looks and flirty behavior for 'wolf-dad' to be comfortable with, and sometimes when she gets on Hruff's last nerve, he'll grumble, "Knew I should have eaten you that first night." But she knows he (mostly) doesn't mean it.]
Lone Wolf and Cub, Pathfinder edition.
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Random Kuthite observance for a character;
There is revelation,
In the Dark
There is truth,
In the Dark
There is purpose,
In the Dark
There is acceptance,
In the Dark
The light lies. It reveals so much that is not true. Those that seem beautiful can be corrupt beneath. Those that look frightening can be strong allies. The sky and sea appear blue in the light, yet air and water are not blue. The light lies to you. Trust in the dark.
In suffering
There is strength
From loss
We learn to stand strong
Only from ignorance
Can we learn that which we do not know
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Random feeding of the OCD;
I like symmetry, and D&D kind of saddled their mephits into being creatures of the conjunctions between two elemental planes.
Air + Earth = Dust, Air + Fire = Smoke, Air + Water = Mist? (Ice)
Earth + Fire = Magma, Earth + Water = Mud
Fire + Water = Steam
Following that pattern of thought, it could be neat to have Scamps aligned similarly;
Wood + Air = Pollen or Spore, these smelly mildew-y creatures cause terrific bouts of hayfever in those they breathe on, and even striking them with a melee weapon can cause a puff of pollen that irritates and chokes their attacker. Their spongy bodies have the consistency of tough fungus.
Wood + Earth = Root, these gnarled and twisted creatures can 'grow' their appendages into a creature, drawing minerals and liquid nourishment from them directly, as well as 'breath' a net of tangling tendrils to hinder those trying to pursue them before burrowing to safety. Their leathery forms are almost as tough as wood, but are scraggly and thin, with many branching limbs, like the legendary mandragora.
Wood + Fire = Cinder or Char, the weakest of Scamps, and yet most annoying, as a few solid hits sees their clumpy smouldering bodies break apart into Smoke Scamps! Easily defeated, and yet they turn into yet more foes!
Wood + Water = Algae, slimy and squelching with every step, their touch is toxic, drenching their target with reeking mass of weak poison, and hurling tangling masses of kelp to restrain foes and trap them in their toxic mire. They have squishy amorphous bodies, and can swim as fast as they move on the ground.
Wood + Metal = Saw, I kinda hate this one, all saw blades and axe blades and a breath weapon of choking sawdust. Not a fan, anyone got a better idea for a synergy of wood and metal? Something, something involving ironwood, or the concept of thorns (which could be interpreted as woods attempt to harness the pointy properties of sharpened metal tools?). Eh, need to ponder this one some more.
Metal + Air = Rust, the reeking bitter odor of rusted metal follows this creature with it's jagged claws inflicting a lockjaw-like ailment from the rust that flakes off of them. Their breath weapon is similarly a cloud of rust flakes that deteriorates metal items and causes sickness in living creatures. For all that it's body seems to be falling apart and leaving bits of itself all over the ground, it is as tough as any other scamp.
Metal + Earth = Crystal, is it a perfect fit? No less than Air + Water = Ice, and I like it! Crystal scamps are like living treasure to higher denizens of the elemental planes, and depending on their diet and environment, can take on all sorts of shimmering hues. The courts where they are seen as ornamentation, as much as servants, 'feed' them specific impurities to give them the desired colors. Oh yeah, and they breath a fine crystalline powder that encrusts onto their targets like quick-growing salt crystals, slowing them and hindering them, and causing minor damage through dessication and demineralization.
Metal + Fire = Slag, it's a Magma Scamp, but made of molten metal, and breathing a cloud of searing hot reeking toxic fumes that can blind (and totally destroy ones sense of smell, for a time!). They heavy blows leave behind burning slag that does continuing damage, and weighs down a foe until scraped away (or it falls off on it's own).
Metal + Water = Quicksilver, choice messengers, these sleek scamps move twice as quickly on the ground as they fly (and prefer to fly only for short hops to bypass an obstacle on the ground, or contact with liquid water, which they abhor), and have some amorphous traits. Their wounds are bludgeoning, as they cannot form sharp claws, but if they strike someone who has taken piercing or slashing damage, from another type of allied scamp, perhaps, their blows are capable of delivering a weakening toxin that causes cramps and disorientation.
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Wood + Metal = Saw, I kinda hate this one, all saw blades and axe blades and a breath weapon of choking sawdust. Not a fan, anyone got a better idea for a synergy of wood and metal? Something, something involving ironwood, or the concept of thorns (which could be interpreted as woods attempt to harness the pointy properties of sharpened metal tools?). Eh, need to ponder this one some more.Definitely go with ironwood or living steel. Maybe allow them to use claws or change to slam attacks.
Maybe special stats like:
Speed: No fly speed (or reduce to clumsy)
Defense: increase natural armor +2 (to +5 total)
Fast healing: only active after being hit by metal or wooden weapon (or while wielding a wooden or metal weapon, if proficient)
Breath weapon: cone of ironwood splinters 1d8 piercing damage (or no breath weapon, instead proficient with all simple melee weapons)
SLA: thorn body 1/day, lead blades 1/day
I do like the ironwood/thorn motif better, so yeah, this sounds like the way to go. The whole saw/axe/sawdust theme feels a little too tech-y for my tastes. It might be a fine construct, tho, a nightmare adversary to dryads, leshies, etc.
Thanks for the cool ideas!
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Random fanon ideas;
Urast Il, Mwangi interpretation of Erastil
The Horned Hunter has the body of a lean Bekyar warrior (or sometimes Zenj), with the head of an antelope, which seems to vary depending on the depiction, but always one with a magnificent set of horns, such as a bongo, impala or gemsbock. The Bekyar and Bonuwat, in particular, favor the brightly colored bongo, while Zenj are more likely to depict Urast Il in different forms at different times, and use less colorful antelope like those above, or the sable, nyala or kudu, but in any case, his gear and equipment is all made from animal hide, horn and bone, with even the shafts of his arrows being said to be made of bone, instead of wood.
His mighty bow is fashioned from the horns of an oversized wildebeest, and his arrowhead is tipped with a lion’s fang (in Zenj depictions) or a large white shark’s tooth (in Bekyar and Bonuwat imagery). The Zenj are far more likely to sing the praises of the Horned Hunter than the Bekyar or Bonuwat, perhaps leading to their greater variety of depictions.
Urast Il is seen as the god of the hunt, of animals, of the hunter who provides for the community and protects the family, and as a god of male fertility. He seems less concerned with physical or birth gender, so much as one’s role as provider and protector, and a woman who takes up the bow and provides for her family (or defends her community) is seen as filling that role, and honoring him, regardless of her gender.
A small sect of Urast Il-following women, rarely more than a few dozen in number, and travelling in small groups, have taken up the bow and are called the Brides of Urast Il. They take no husbands (although they are known to take lovers, and even bear children), only choosing to ‘settle down’ with a man when they are ready to step aside from their hunter and protector role as Bride of Urast Il. They tend to wander from community to community among the Zenj, crossing with impunity into Bekyar territory, keeping local villages in touch and routes of travel between communities clear of predatory beasts or threats. 'Difficult’ girls who ‘don’t know their place’ in particularly restrictive or hidebound communities are sometimes quietly encouraged to leave with them, and find a role that suits them more to their liking than what their village or family had planned for them. Such girls are sometimes said to be 'wed to the bow,' even as children, by their elders.
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The Sixth Kingdom
The dwarves of the Five Kings Mountains did not recognize a ‘High King’ (or, more to the point, agree who should hold that honor…) for many decades, and would meet in a valley in between the five ‘kingdoms’ that was declared neutral territory (and ended up the site of a rough and tumble town, all but lawless during the years between moots between kings, when it was hastily cleaned up for ‘company’ and all signs of scandalous behavior quickly hidden away).
This practice ended when Daralythyl attacked one of the once every 25 years Kings-moots, killing two of the five kings, and several dozen of other dwarven notables. (The ‘sixth king’ had spent almost a decade spreading the rumors of a *white* dragon in the area, killing prey in various areas with cone of cold spells, and using a disguise self spell to appear as a white dragon in these staged appearances, travelling invisibly the rest of the time. He caught the kings unprepared for a *fire* breathing dragon!)
Since that time, the Five Kings have met in Highhelm, having finally agreed on a High King, at least partially to avoid having to moot on unprotected ‘neutral ground.’
Informally, because it would draw the ire of their cityfolk, the gruff-talking dwarves who still dwell in the former meeting site sometimes jokingly call it 'the Sixth Kingdom, where only the Sixth King reigns,' their former moot-site having been mostly abandoned and serving only as a crossroads resting site for caravans and delegations between the Five Kingdoms.
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Alternate take on the Fey Eldest (for 1st edition) known and respected in 'old Sarkoria;'
The Eldest among the fey are the 'gods' of the First World, and their names and titles are not often known on Golarion, save perhaps to the fey themselves, and not even all of them.
The most powerful of them is the Queen of Air and Darkness. She has no other name and listens to no other title. Indeed, if her full title is not spoken, she may ignore you, or throw you out of her court, or, well, the one person who said, 'Listen, lady...' to her is still a frozen statue within her court, positioned near her entrance to her throne room, and used to hold her cloak when she enters. His mind is still aware, even though his body has been frozen for over a century.
She cuts a slim regal figure, with skin as pale as ice and hair dark as night, her fine cerulean gowns scattered with tiny snowflake shaped diamonds (or diamond-hard snowflakes? Hard to say.), and unlike some of her peers, always the same appearance, hard and cold and cruel, only her outfits and jewels changing. She has specific titles for her 'Winter Court' and the various positions within it, and can be quite whimsical about reassigning titles and duties depending on who is in or out of her favor, at any given moment, keeping her minions always guessing what they can or must do or not do, to cling to their current station.
As a goddess, a cleric who swears to her can choose among the Air, Darkness, Evil, Magic and Weather domains. (Before she ascended to a full goddess, it was only, Air, Darkness, Evil and Weather.) She is the most popular patron among the Winter Witches of Irrisen, and is generally seen as the goddess of winter. She has also been associated with the moon, night and loss, but those roles have been downplayed since the ascendency of Zon-Kuthon. Her favored weapon is the Shortbow, and her clerics can choose any alignment within one step of her own, which is Neutral Evil. Unlike some of her peers, she has always had this alignment. Her symbol is a white six-pointed snowflake in front of a blue-grey crescent moon, turned on it's side, 'horns up.'
Her polar opposite, and former equal, is the Summer King, the Horned Hunter, the Master of the Wild Hunt, who, like most of the fey Eldest, goes by many titles, and not always the same one with each appearance or manifestation. Once wild and free, he has been brought to heel by the Queen of Air and Darkness, and is bound to her will.
In ages past, the Queen of Air and Darkness would reign for three months, while the Summer King slept. He would awaken, and begin courting and wooing his Queen, and during this time of distraction, another Eldest would have primacy over the season of spring. At the end of spring, their union would have been consummated, and Winter would sleep, while Summer blazed bright for three months. Then the Queen would awaken, and turn her attentions to Summer again, and during these three months, the fourth of these seasonal demigods would reign, until the Summer King would slumber again, and the Queen retake her throne.
The Queen grew tired of this endless cycle, and now her icy throne remains surrounded by blizzards all year round, while the courts of spring, summer and autumn are banished to further reaches of the First World, diminished in scope and size.
The Summer King, as a demigod, is of Neutral alignment, and favors the Spear (shortspear, spear or longspear) as a weapon. His clerics can choose from the Animal, Madness, Strength or Sun domains, currently, although before his time of imprisonment, their choices were Animal, Charm, Strength and Sun. He is, chained and bitter, less the charming lothario than before, and far more aggressive by nature... A powerfully built man, with the antlers of a stag and sometimes hooves as well, he is popular with satyrs and maenads, among other particularly rowdy and licentious fey. His symbol is a pair of great stag antlers, and below them glowing green eyes and a face otherwise cast in shadow.
Spring is the time of the Thorned Maiden, the Ivy-Crowned Queen, the Verdant Crone, a woman who alternately appears lithe and lush, youthful and matronly, and always entwined in thorny vines with a crown of flowering ivy (and little else). She is a popular eldest among both aquatic and plant-based fey, like dryads and nixies.
She has not only many titles, but insists on being called a new one every time a supplicant addresses her, which, during a long encounter, can require some creativity, as she hates repetition, and can grow petulant. She was not always evil, but part of the Queen's defeat of her lover and rival, was turning his potential allies either to her side, or away from supporting him. She is now Neutral Evil, and her clerics favor the Scorpion Whip (or normal whip), and have access to the Domains of Charm, Evil, Plant and Water. (before her turn to evil, Healing replaced Evil) Her symbol is a pale rose, and below it, a nest of dark green thorns.
The final seasonal Eldest is Pumpkin Jack, Jack O' the Crossroads, the Lantern King, a lean figure bearing a scythe and with a carved firelit pumpkin for a head. He represents the harvest season, and the time when the lands of the dead and the lands of the living pass closest together, and ties of community are renewed, as well as the crossroads itself, where people, as well as opportunities come together. Many sinister fey, or those fond of malicious pranks, follow him, from mites to redcaps to spriggans, although he is not evil himself.
He is Neutral, his favored weapon is the scythe, and his clerics can choose from Community, Death, Travel and Trickery. His symbol is a pumpkin with a face carved into it and lit from within by flames, with a scythe propped behind it, edge down (at rest). 'Jack' seems to the most consistent of the four seasonal Eldest, as he has not changed in aeons, which is itself unusual for a trickster, and a power devoted to transitions and change, the change from place to place, the choices made at the crossroads, the turn of the seasons, or the end of a life.
There may be many other Eldest, but these four are the most commonly known in old Sarkoria, although the Queen of Darkness has a strong following among the Jadwiga of Irrisen.
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Silliness; One-letter off spells.
Arcane Lock
Arcane Bock - This conjuration cantrip creates a thick glass or ceramic mug or stein of beer, as dark and flavorful as you want it (and the glass can even be frosted, if you wish). The beer cannot be transferred to another container (other than your mouth), nor consumed by anyone other than you, and when the container is emptied, it vanishes at the end of that round (or immediately if picked up by anyone other than you). (It's tradition to smash it on the ground when you finish, and then let the magic clean up the mess.) The beer is as rich and intoxicating as any normal beverage of it's type, but as a free action you can snap your fingers and any intoxication caused by the Arcane Bock immediately ends, which can prove a shock to someone picking a bar fight with a bunch of rowdy staggering barely-conscious Academae students out for a pint, as they snap their fingers and are deadly sober...
Arcane Cock - (get your minds out of the gutter, this is a family-friendly spellbook) With this first level conjuration, you create a colorful barnyard bantam with a flourish, and it immediately flies to any location within 30 ft. of your position, utters a loud "Ba-KAW!" and explodes for 2d6 fire damage to anyone in its space, and those adjacent. It can be subject to a readied attack action, or take damage from environmental forces (although it is immune to fire damage), or struck by an attack of opportunity by anyone whose space it enters (it is too small and erratic in flight to provoke attacks of opportunity from foes in adjacent squares), and it has an AC 13 (tiny size, Dex 12) and 1 hit point. If slain, it does not explode, and the tiny corpse vanishes at the end of the round. If it does explode, the flaming chicken bits also vanish at the end of the round, but the smell of burning feathers, unfortunately, lingers for some time.
Arcane Dock?
Arcane Hock - One non-magical item in your possession immediately unravels into coinage equal to it's value. Only one item can be 'in hock' at a time, and if you cast this spell again, with the appropriate amount of coinage in hand, the coins disappear and the item 'in hock' is restored to your possession.
Arcane Jock - You exchange your mental traits for physical ones. As long as the result is a higher Strength, Dexterity or Constitution score, your Strength and Intelligence scores swap, your Dexterity and Wisdom scores swap, and your Constitution and Charisma scores swap. A transfer will not occur if it would result in a *lower* Strength, Dexterity or Constitution score (say, in the case of a Fire Giant Wizard, whose Strength is already higher than his Intelligence), and the spell will not attempt a swap if one of those scores is a nonability (such as for an undead spellcaster). Additionally, any skill ranks you have in Knowledge, Linguistics or Spellcraft skills can be transferred at your discretion to Acrobatics, Climb, Perform (any sport), Profession (any sport) or Swim. You can end this spell as a standard action. If you remember how.
Arcane Mock - After you cast this spell, you are treated as having taken a readied action to counterspell. Instead of casting a counterspell, you simply make a distracting vocalization, shouting nonsense arcane words to try and make a rival spellcaster within 30 ft. who can hear you lose his place and fumble a spell. He must make a concentration check against your knowledge (arcana) check, or his spell is disrupted. If he succeeds, this spell ends, his confidence bolstered and immune to your heckling. If he fails, you can continue attempting to mock him on subsequent rounds, and try to foil his attempts to cast spells, for the remaining duration of the spell.
Arcane Nock - You nock arrows (or crossbow bolts, sling bullets, or even ready daggers to throw) as a free action as many times per round as you wish. Ammunition (or daggers) that are not on your person are not affected.
Arcane Pock - This spell acts like Contagion, but the disease inflicted is always one that causes visible markings or 'pocks' on the target, and is known regionally. It has no mechanical effects, other than being disfiguring *and contagious,* and can be cured like any other disease with a +2 bonus to any attempt to treat it or remove it (but not against the initial infection). It is mostly used to 'curse' people and make them appear to have some local plague, and have them run out of town or made pariahs.
Arcane Rock - A single stone, about the size of a sling stone, is flung with force from your hand, as if from a sling. It has an additional bonus to hit (above and beyond your Dexterity modifier) equal to your Intelligence (for a Wizard) or Charisma (for a Sorcerer) modifier, and inflicts 1d6 magical Bludgeoning damage (plus your Strength modifier) regardless of your size. At 5th, 10th, 15th and 20th levels, the damage increases by 1d6, to a maximum of 5d6 at 20th.
Special: If you have Magic Weapon as a spell prepared or known, the Arcane Rock has an additional +1 to hit and damage. If you have Greater Magic Weapon prepared or known, the Arcane Rock has the additional bonuses to hit and damage determined by your level. (These effects do not stack, use the greater of them.) This does not affect your preparation of Magic Weapon or Greater Magic Weapon, nor expend a spell slot.
Arcane Sock - You conjure a sock. This is permanent, but cannot create a sock worth more than 1 copper piece, and can only create an opposite and equal matching sock to one that you have in hand. This spell was obviously made to replace that one sock that always goes missing, and some whisper that it summons them from 'the Plane of Lost Socks,' but that is generally agreed to be the Arcane Bock talking.
Arcade Lock
Arcane Lick
Arcane Luck
Arcane Lack
Arcane Loc
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More random silliness,
Angels & Architecture
Beasts & Battlements
Basilisks & Bastions
Creatures & Catacombs
Castles & Centaurs (can your nomadic tribe maintain their way of life despite the encroachment of man and their castles?)
Demons & Delves
Eagles & Eyries (all avian campaign!)
Fiends & Forts
Faeries & Foxholes (an 'urban fantasy' set in WW1!)
Gargoyles & Graveyards
Houses & Horrors (a horror game, obviously)
and my brain collapses trying to think of funny choices for the letter 'I.' :)
I was hoping to at least make it to Vaults & Vampires!
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Installations & Imps ?
Jungle Ruins & Jackalweres
Kirks & Kelpies Keeps & Kobolds! (how did the little bastards get a keep? Can you get them out? Can you clear the traps, or would it just save time and lives to burn it to the ground and build a new one?)
Lairs & Lamia (or Lairs & Liches, for the hardcore levels!)
Mazes & Monstersoops, taken by Tom Hanks and friends.
Mausoleums & Mummies
Nests & Nymphs
Oubliettes & Oozes (Pac-Man like game of making the correct turns or be eated by the gelatinous cubes slowly moving across the board! Solve the maze when the proper passages clear to win the game and escape the oubliette!)
Palaces & Phantoms
Quarries & Qlippoth
Rookeries & Rocs
Schools & Sphinxes (puzzle based, obviously)
Temples & Titans
Undercrofts & Undead
Vaults & VampiresZombies & Ziggurats
Still left a couple more for you. Lol!
Oh, so nice! I like Mummies & Mausoleums! Schools & Sphinxes suggests a fun Potter-esque game! Quarries & Qlippoths has a 'delved too greedily, and too deep!' feel to it.
And Palaces & Phantoms has potential as an intrigue style game. (Quiz the abandoned palace haunts / experience their stories, to learn secrets of your kingdom, before the past comes back to ruin us all!)
W - Warrens & Wendigos (escape the cannibal monster in the maze of underground tunnels! Difficulty, the cannibal monster is *in your party* and doesn't know they're the cannibal monster!)
X - Xorn & Xanadu! ("You have to believe, we are magic, nothing can stand in our way! NOM, NOM, NOM!" 'In Xanadu, did Kubla Xorn, a stately pleasure dome devour!')
Y - Yetis & Yurts: Himalyan adventures, *obviously.* :)
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[One thing I loved when I saw Golarion is how some races were reimagined to become more a living breathing part of the setting, and not just 'there because D&D used them.'
Here's a thought I had to 'Golarion-ize' a classic 'underdark' race.]
.
The dwarven people completed the Quest for Sky to find a surface world caught in the worst of the Age of Darkness, and overrun with orcs, their ancestral enemy. A sizable minority had politicked against the Quest for Sky, notably some of those who had been most entrenched and secure in their realms below, who had the most to lose in the abandonment of their ancient home. Seeing such a bleak ‘Sky,’ they rejected the Quest that they had already opposed, and the gods that called for it, turning instead to the god of darkness and loss, Zon-Kuthon, and established their dour nation in the land that would later come to be called Nidal, and themselves, the duergar (a dwarven word that does not translate well, but relates to their rejection of the dwarven way of life).
Six centuries later, the Age of Darkness finally begins to clear, but the duergar are too entrenched in their bleak new faith, which they now share with native Kellids of their land, who are also called duergar, and rejected overtures to return to ‘mainstream’ dwarven society.
Somewhat ironically, united under the tragic faith in Zon-Kuthon, these grim dwarves end up creating a more cosmopolitan society than that of the Five Kings Mountains, accepting human ‘duergar’ as full citizens of their bleak and joyless nation, and are indeed outnumbered by the faster-breeding Kellids.
The generational struggle, toil and suffering of the Quest for Sky is etched into their flesh, a tale of resentment and betrayal by gods whose memories they have twisted into contempt for their fellow dwarves of the Five Kings Mountains, and they seek only to recapture the glory of their long (mis)remembered supremacy in the depths, here on the surface world, or in their equally brutal outposts deep within the earth, as they seek to recolonize their original homes, long abandoned and overrun by creatures that love the dark even more than they.
Not content with the surface, and the depths, the faithful duergar of Zon-Kuthon have also expanded onto the plane of Shadow, the city they call Shadow Pangolais, one of the few cities in that lightless realm occupied more by (often unwelcome) natives of Golarion, than denizens of that plane. If the nation of Nidal sometimes seems less expansionist than their nature would suggest, it might be because of this split focus, and forces dedicated to both expanding into the Darklands, and the plane of Shadow.
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Random flavor;
The 'Overlord' of Riddleport has innocuous, but strangely bold, halfling servants who come and go at all hours on unknown errands, often delivering messages on his behalf, or to him from all quarters of the city, on slips of paper.
When the Overlord receives such a message, he either crumples up and tosses into a nearby brazier, or folds and slips into a slot in the arm of his chair that leads to a locked box that nobody has ever seen opened.
Some quietly whisper that the notes are instructions from a secret ‘Underlord’, others just information from a vast spy network. In any event, any of the violent, abusive drunks he employs as enforcers who mistreat or abuse a halfling servant are found naked in the street the next day, with dozens of small knife wounds, and the halflings that normally clean such human debris from the streets studiously ignore it until members of the community tire of the stench and move it themselves.
Anyone who has worked or lived in Riddleport for any length of time knows not to mess with the halflings. Surely not *all* of them work for the Overlord, but it's not worth getting jumped and knifed, with the Overlord's apparent blessing, if you guess wrong...
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Where my OCD gets it's own post;
Various Domains, Mysteries, Schools and Bloodlines have obvious (or not so obvious) parallels, like the elements of Air, Earth, Fire and Water, but also Undead/Bones/Death/Necromancy. While not every combination would be even interesting, IMO, and my OCD is not nearly that overwhelming, I do see a bunch of possibilities in the 'holes' in the side-by-side comparisons.
A Feral Sorcerer who taps into the talents of beasts of the wilderness to fuel their magic? (fly like an eagle, climb like a spider, strong like a bull, fast like a cheetah!)
A Wizard focused on cooperative or 'coven' magic, drawing strength from their allies (even the non-spellcasting allies) and from lengthier ritual spells?
A 'Street' Sorcerer who taps into the raw power of the urban environment?
Wizards (perhaps from Cheliax, or Magaambya) who call themselves Diabolists or Theurges, and draw arcane power from infernal or celestial tutelage and cast spells in those tongues *without* resorting to sorcery?
Wizards who study the ways of Dracomancy, and learn all sorts of dragon-related magic? (Perhaps even studying *with* dragons!)
Sorcerers born to war and strife, who derive power from conflict? The ultimate 'war wizard,' born in battle?
Lots of potential options suggested by what options already exist to their sister classes!
Anywho, my silly list doesn't format on this page, so bleh.
Domains......Mysteries.......Schools...........Bloodlines
Air..........Wind............Elementalist......Elemental
.............................(Air).............(Air)
Animal.......Nature............................FERAL?
Artifice.....Metal...........Elementalist?.....Impossible / .............................(Metal)...........Clockwork?
Chaos
Charm........................Enchantment
Community.....Ancestor?......COOPERATIVE?......Vestige?
Community.....Streets........CIVIC?............URBAN
Darkness......UMBRAL?..........................Shadow
Death.........Bones..........Necromancy........Undead
Destruction..................Evocation
Earth.........Stone..........Elementalist......Elemental
.............................(Earth)...........(Earth)
Evil
(Demon).......Outer Rifts......................Abyssal
Evil
(Devil).......Outer Rifts.....DIABOLIST?........Infernal
Fire..........Flame...........Elementalist......Elemental
..............................(Fire)............(Fire)
Glory
Good..........Heavens.........THEURGE?..........Celestial
Healing.......Life
Knowledge.....Lore.............Divination
Law
Liberation
Luck.............................................Destined
Madness
Magic..........................Universal.........Arcane
Nobility
Plant..........Nature..........Elementalist......Verdant
...............................(Wood)
Protection.....................Abjuration
Repose.........Bones...........Necromancy........Undead?
Rune
Scalykind........................................Serpentine
Scalykind
(Dragon).......WYRM.............DRACOMANCY.......Draconic
Strength.........................................JOTUNNBLUD
Sun..............................................Solar
Travel.........DOORS............Conjuration......WORLDWALKER
................................(Teleport)
Trickery.......Whimsy...........Illusion.........Fey
Void...........Dark Tapestry....Elementalist
................................(Void)
War............Battle...........WAR..............STRIFE
Water..........Wave.............Elementalist.....Elemental
................................(Water)..........(Water)
Weather..........................................Stormborn
................................Transmutation....Shapechanger
COLD...........WINTER...........ELEMENTALALIST...Boreal
................................(COLD)
...............TWISTED?..........................Aberrant
SUMMONING.......................Conjuration
................................Elementalist.....Astral
................................(Aether)
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One-letter off magic items! Classic magic items with one letter changed in their name become completely different items!
Cloak of the Rat – created by goblins, and prized particularly by bugbear assassins, this tiny rat pelt ‘cloak’ covers only a tiny patch of the bearers back (even if it does come from a particularly robust specimen), but grants them a +5 bonus to Stealth checks. The wearer can also benefit from the compression ability, and squeeze through openings as if a size Tiny creature, or transform into an actual rat, as per Beast Shape, but can only do either for up to seven minutes, and the ‘cloak’ can no longer be used in either way for an equal amount of time.
Books of Levitation – popular in Nex, these books have a permanent mage hand effect that allows them to float, and their pages to turn, at their owners whim. They follow and are treated as attended objects, as ioun stones, when in operation, but can be set down and will remain in place if not called to the owners presence from anywhere within 30 ft.
Bracelet of Fiends – this bracelet has six tiny charms that look like small humanoids or cute animals, but when one is detached, one round later it vanishes and an angry imp or quasit appears in its place. Generally, it’s safer to throw the charm into a group of enemies and remove yourself from sight, before that happens…
Incense of Medication – anyone resting for 8 hours within 10 ft. of this incense as it burns recovers twice their normal hit points and ability points (and are treated as if under a physicians care). For the purposes of disease or poison, the incense is treated as if having a Heal skill bonus of +10, and gets a single roll at the end of the duration. Additionally, all beneficiaries are sickened by drowsiness and disorientation, and not recommended to operate heavy siege weaponry, or flying mounts for the full eight hours.
Eyes of the Beagle – these lenses make your eyes appear overly large and a warm brown in color, as well as affording you a +2 bonus to Diplomacy checks. Unfortunately, others also gain a +2 bonus to Diplomacy checks to influence *you*, and this bonus is doubled if they offer you food… Elves particularly loathe these items, as not only do they affect apparent eye color and size, but they also make long ears droop and sag, which causes proud elven ears to resemble those of bugbears (there is no noticeable affect on races who do not have pronounced ears, like dwarves or humans). Like many cursed items, they are difficult to remove, and you will not willingly do so. *Someone else* can remove them, but this requires you to be incapacitated, as you will most assuredly be unwilling! (Once removed, this compulsion fades.)
Deck of Many Thugs – for every card you draw from this Deck and throw down to the ground within 10 ft, a thug appears and attacks the nearest person. They are half your level, and usually have class levels in fighter or rogue (sometimes barbarian or ranger), and their gear vanishes when they are defeated, making them more of a nuisance than anything else. No more than one can exist at a time, so you cannot 'throw the deck' at someone.
And other random silly items that don't fit the 'one letter off' format;
Throw Rug of Flying – this plush eighteen inch circular rug (although some are rectangular, and look more like doormats) acts like a Carpet of Flying, with a carrying capacity of 5 lbs. Invented by an Arclord of Nex for his Osirioni Wise-Eye familiar ‘Princess,’ it was made of soft quilted Vudran silk, stuffed with the softest Baccalia wool from Druma, and enhanced with a permanent mending effect to keep it from being damaged by Princess' kneading. Others may be less ornate...
Gem of Whiteness – this white triangular crystal prism, larger at one end, is over a foot long and represents a failure to create a Gem of Brightness. Instead of the usual effects, it can only cast prestidigitation at will, and only to turn an item or substance touched a bright pristine white. This object can be later painted or dyed or stained another color, but otherwise, the effect is permanent. This ‘cursed’ item recently sold for 10,000 gp to a clothier in Druma, who uses it transform the finest saffron and scarlet silks from Vudra into the shining white preferred by his Kalistocrat clientele.
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So I re-read my copious PF1e collection at work, when I have a break or am waiting on some machine to be available for my daily maintenance stuff, and this week, I was looking at Faiths of Balance, Faiths of Corruption and Faith of Purity.
Faiths of Corruption talks about the Blood Lords, Hellknights, House Thrune, Red Mantis, Umbral Court, Whispering Way and Winter Witches under religion-affiliated groups. (Which is perhaps a bit of a stretch for the Winter Witches?)
Faiths of Purity mentions the Knights of Ozem, and some groups I did not recognize when the book came out, or still don't recall seeing much these days, such as the Banner of the Stag, Deepdelvers, Glory of the Risen Rose, the Halo of Blades, Starstone Brewers and Whispered Song.
And then Faiths of Balance brings up groups that I don't recognize at all, like the Companies of the Red Standard, the Reborn House, the Sacred Order of Archivists, the Sea Dragons, the Voices of the Spire, the Wasp Queens and the Wind Callers.
I may indeed have missed mentions of these groups over the years, I certainly don't own every product Paizo has ever put out (despite a heroic effort to be a compleatist back in 1st edition!), and wouldn't remember all of it even if I did! But I do feel like at least some of these factions seem like they'd be a logical fit in some adventures.
The Banner of the Stag could be worked into Kingmaker, with the Stag Lord himself being a former member of the group? The Glory of the Risen Rose could be involved in such events as the Swallowtail Festival, in Sandpoint. The Halo of Blades would slot neatly into Legacy of Fire.
As for the neutral factions;
The Sea Dragons or Wind Callers could appear anywhere there's a sea journey, or port under threat (perhaps even trapped by the blockage inside Pezzack!), but most obviously members of those factions could be met, or opposed!, in Skull & Shackles. Save one of them (from Raptor Isle?), gain an important potential favor later, oppose them, well, that's it's own complication down the road...
The Sacred Order of Archivists could come under threat in any adventure that touches on the Anaphexis as a foe, or even be cast in an adversarial role themselves when the PCs need access to information they are protecting, or, worse, need to redact information!
The Voice of the Spire, in Carrion Crown, or Mummy's Mask, dealing with those undead monstrosities, or even in Blood Lords, as foes for any undead (or merely undead-curious) PCs.
The Companies of the Red Standard could show up as mercenary foes or allies in any adventure that involves any sort of mass combat, or even the threat of mass combat (and if the PCs avert the impending conflict, they might make foes of the mercenaries who were looking to get employed to fight in it!).
And the arcanists of the Reborn House could show up anywhere there seems to be some unnatural magic afoot, such as Reign of Winter, or anything to do with the Runelords.
Any of these factions could be integrated into both pre-existing and upcoming content, if they are deemed worthy, and not regarded as 'mistakes' to be never spoken of again, like Paladins of Asmodeus. :)
Given my own love of all things magical, the Reborn House and the Wind Callers are the most interesting to me, but I'm sure there are fans who'd like to see more of the Sacred Order of Archivists or Starstone Brewers.
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I love, love, love the picture in the Korvosa book of a dozen plus imps and pseudodragons warring in the stormy skies over that city, with the mastaba in the background.
But, given the PF1 rules, where a pseudodragon does 1d3-2 (1 pt nonlethal) plus poison, to a creature with DR 5, fast healing 2 and immunity to poison, it seems like a futile fight for the pseudodragons, whose one advantage is that they can fly faster and at least run away...
Later, those little dragons were called 'house drakes' and presumably had some better stats, to make the fight less one-sided, but hey I had my own thoughts.
It's a *cool* picture, worthy of some fight to justify it!
Solutions I came up with before the 'house drake' idea, which, since I don't have that book, I couldn't use anyway; :)
1) Those weren't imps. Imps, no matter how independent they claim to be, work for Asmodeus, and he builds no 'slack time' into his schedules, not even for these least of his devils. Yes, there are, like *two* imps loose in Korvosa that have somehow skirted their duties and can flutter around the city doing whatever they want (one of them was, and technically still is, familiar to a wizard who got turned to stone by a basilisk, the wizard isn't, technically, dead, and so the imp is, technically, still his familiar. He's hard at work on finding a cure for his poor petrified master. Really. Any day now. Has it really been years? Huh.).
So what where all those little imp-like figures? Turns out one of the free range imps fancies himself a bit of a lord of Hell in the making, and he's taken a gremlin bride for himself, and she's born him a litter of tiny half-imp gremlins. They don't have cool imp powers like DR 5, a poison sting (they do have a stinger, it's... a tiny stabby thing coming out of their tail, so, not great), invisibility at will, poison immunity, fast healing, etc. They *did* get wings, which is something cool their mom didn't have. Also the evil subtype, and while gremlin-mom was also evil, she wasn't, like, evil subtype, evil... Their devil dad has indoctrinated these little devil-gremlins into his own cult of Asmodeus, with him as their 'high priest.' They mostly flit around the city stealing stuff to bring to 'tithe' to their dad, making him less 'priest of Asmodeus' and more 'Fagin with trappings.' They also fight the pseudodragons, on a much more fair basis, since they aren't invulnerable to the pseudodragons attacks, and can't turn invisible and attack them from surprise.
2) Those aren't pseudodragons. They are 'thunderdrakes,' who have an electrical attack from their stinger (takes time to recharge, like a real dragon's breath weapon, and is recharged by flying, being a product of the static electricity built up by that) *and* can bark out a thunderclap that affects a single target like sound burst (only 1d6 sonic damage, but also save or be stunned 1 round, which, for their flying prey, whether it be birds, or imps, can end with a fatal fall to the ground below!).
Oh? Imps are resistant or immune to pretty much everything *but* electrical or sonic attacks? Huh. What a freakish coinkidink. :)
Although I was inspired by A) the lightning-lit sky behind those imps and dragons fighting and, to a lesser extent, B) the importance of the blue dragon Karazon to the region. My OCD likes to tie things together, sometimes, things that should have been left well alone!
(Other options could be less blatant. A breath weapon of cloying sticky strands or glop that acts as a tanglefoot bag could also cause an imp to plummet to it's death, without screaming 'let's target the things they aren't immune to!' Or their electrical sting could cause temporary muscle lock, treated mechanically as the entangled condition, and, again, flier faw down, go splat.)
3) There are free-range imps and pseudodragons in Korvosa, but the temple of Sarenrae has a hallow spell linked to a protection from evil, and imps cannot land on it's roof, where there's a rooftop shrine, statue and reflecting pool (with the statue's inner wings being polished to a mirror shine to reflect the morning sun into the pool). An older priest shooed the dragons off the roof, but he's long gone, and the new priest in charge welcomes these tiny good-aligned *clean* visitors to the rooftop sanctuary, for reasons of mercy, compassion, and, oh yes, they keep the filthy pigeons away! A series of hutches have been built (behind the statue, you'd hardly even see them), allowing the tiny dragons to roost on the roof, for safety.
Sarenrae apparently approved, because every day at dawn, the water in the pool glows, and when the tiny dragons bath in this water, which they now do without fail, having become aware of it's properties, they are blessed with the good subtype for the day, so that their attacks count as good weapons and can pierce the imps Damage Reduction, and the poison in their tail stingers undergoes a transmutation, still acting as poison to all others, but acting as a flask of holy water if they sting undead or evil outsiders. Suddenly, the pseudodragons are an actual threat to the imps, who take them quite a bit more seriously as a threat.
I like to combine option 1 and option 3. Rooftop shrine, empowered pseudodragons, and also limited number of 'free range' imps, with most of the fluttering minions being devil-blooded winged evil subtype gremlins.
The dragons can't just eradicate the imps in return, because A) they can't see invisible, B) they can't survive the imps poison stings, C) they are good-aligned and don't generally think 'genocide!' as a solution to life's problems and D) the imps tend to hang out in their own 'safe zones,' the church of Asmodeus or the Acadamae, where there is a price on their heads, and any student who brings a pseudodragon corpse that they've magic missiled out of the sky, will get some piddly bragging rights bonus, for the most part, but it's still enough to have students check the sky when they are wandering around town, looking for some easy credits...
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The stuff about Rival Academies and it's various arcane schools reminded me of a character I was working on towards the tail end of 1st edition.
This gnomish wizard was obsessed with the plethora of ways in which arcane magic had developed across the Inner Sea, and started out born in or around Riddleport, with a Varisian Tattoo, and picking up the Cyperscript feat as soon as feasible. She would progress to try and learn the Eye of the Arclords feat, and the Bloatmage Initiate fear, and some spells or items or lore from various other traditions, like Sin-Magic from Thassilon, something from a Nidalese Shadowcaster, some sort of devil-binding technique from a Hellknight Signifer, an ice magic spell used by the Winter Witches of Irrisen, etc.
Even if some of her lore additions were more like a pair of Winged Boots from the ruins of Kho, crafted in ages past by Aeromancers of the Shory, she'd be all in on trying to cram as many different unique magical traditions into her repertoire.
Which led to me making a list, as is my wont;
Korvosan Academae (some sort of conjuration, or perhaps an abjuration-breaking spell that failed the Breaching festival one year, or an abjuration, which failed to keep people out adequately another year)
Arcanamirium (Absalom, some sort of 'practical magic' meant to make magic seem safe and friendly and *useful* to the common people)
Hellknight Signifers (devil fighting or person binding magic)
Arclords of Nex (that Arclord's eye, or a divination spell that creates a third eye temporarily as a 'special effect')
Hemotheurges ('Bloatmages,' Kaer Maga, the Bloatmage Initiate feat, or a spell that consumes 1 Con pt worth of the casters blood to enhance her spell potency, or fire off an extra spell from an expended slot? Alternately, a spell that temporarily gives a wizard the 1st level ability of a Sorcerer bloodline?)
Halcyon-mages (Magaambya, holy or plant related arcane magic)
Winter Witches (Irrisen, ice spells!)
Cypermages (Riddleport, the Cypherscript feat, or some writing / rune based spell)
Magnimarian Golemworks (or the similar group, the Ardoc family, in Kaer Maga, lower level animate objects variants to animate small temporary 'unseen servant' like constructs out of tiny figures?)
Thuvian alchemy (drink this and *feel* younger for a short time, ignoring age penalties. Ha, psych, it wears off a day later...)
Thassilonian Sin-Magic (soooo many options...)
Shadowcasters of Nidal (shadow creation, creates 'quasi-real' items from the PHB, no special materials, nothing big or masterwork or alive! Shadow alchemy, same thing, but whip up a temporary flask of acid or tanglefoot bag if needed!)
Palatine Order? (buncha fusty old fakers, IMO!)
Qadiran Daivrat? (do not know enough about this to have an informed opinion, would like to tie it to mephits/scamps, and other lesser elemental / genie-kin critters, somehow)
Shory Aeromancy (temporary flight enhancement on an item, so less useful than a fly spell, but lower level, make your own flying broom, carpet, cloak or boots!)
Some of these, in particular, I wonder about in the evolving setting.
For instance, with the changes to Irrisen, and a new queen on the throne, Winter Witches of the Jadwiga might find themselves in for a 'chilly' reception in the land they so cruelly dominated for centuries, and have scattered to find new homes. They'd likely be profoundly unwelcome in neighboring Realms of the Mammoth Lords or Lands of the Linnorm Kings, but there's a real chance that some might be new exotic fads-of-the-moment in the more decadent courts of Ustalav, or offering aid in Artax White-Hairs attempts to tame Belkzen's wilder impulses, or traveled as far as Sarkoria, Brevoy or Xin-Shalast in seek of less unfriendly places to settle.
(I have this fanon idea that once a year, at unpredictable times (when the whim took them), the most powerful Winter Witches, led by the queen herself, would go 'on safari' to the Worldwound and whoever brought down the biggest demon would have bragging rights for the year. This had zero to do with doing the Realms of the Mammoth Lords any favors, and be more of a *ridiculously dangerous* 'holiday outing' for the arrogant witches, who would show up with an array of flying contrivances (spells, items, a flying sled pulled by phantom steeds, a young white dragon (or gussied up frost drake, more likely...). As a result, the Winter Witches might not be 100% kill on sight in western Sarkoris, despite hardly doing it to win the hearts and minds of the little people.)
Similarly, I wonder if the Sin-Magic of Thassilon is making a comeback, with the return of it's Runelord and the resettlement of Xin-Shalast, and, more interestingly, to me, if perhaps her old base of operations in Korvosa's mastaba has been of any interest to her, and she has perhaps sent some folk to go 'pick up some stuff I left behind, purely of sentimental value, *really..*' or if perhaps her return has had an effect on Korvosa itself, sort of a trickle-down effect where spells of enchantment are cropping up and the current Academae class has more than an expected (or desired!) number of prominent Enchanters, to the point that the Conjuration-obsessed faculty is getting a bit testy about this unwelcome development! Intrigue!
But I am most interested in unique expressions of shadow magic, from Nidal, or aeromancy, from the area of the Kho-Rarne pass, or even what Cypermagic or Hemotheurgy's futures, if they have one, will look like.
Heck, even weird little trivia, like how Thuvian alchemists tend to live just a bit longer than the average Thuvian (maybe 10%, tops), leading folks from other lands thinking that they someone have access to the Sun Orchid Elixir, or it's secrets (not even a little bit true, although it is true that just about every alchemist in Thuvia has at least dabbled in the idea...), could make for fun plot elements (members of the Drumish mercenary league have kidnapped a Thuvian alchemist to compel the secrets of the Sun Orchid Elixir from her!).
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Figurines of Wondrous Power (Golarion edition)
Effigy of the Scavenger (Katapesh)– Angara, an outcast gnoll witch outside of Katapesh makes these macabre effigies from the mummified remains of stillborn hyena pups. When a command word is spoken, these tiny mummies enlarge into undead hyenas (normal stats, except for below) and attack their users enemies. Each has maximum hit points and undead traits, and only restores damage done to it if magically healed or repaired (either as a creature or an object, by negative energy, or a mending or make whole spell), or if allowed to feed as a full round action on 1 HD worth of dead creature to regain 5 hit points. All of them also wear tiny suits of studded leather barding (+3 AC), with armor spikes of bone, fang and horn, that enlarge with them, and cannot be removed without destroying the effigy.
The best of them wear masks made from the skulls of goats, carved with the third eye of Lamashtu, and have a +2 insight bonus to AC and Reflex saves, +4 to Perception checks and Improved Initiative as a bonus feat. These also cannot be removed without ruining the effigy.
Angara would greatly reward someone who brought her unusual specimens, such as half-fiendish hyenas, or a breeding pair of hyenadons, as she's always looking to scale up her offerings.
She (or her apprentices) also make feather tokens (bird) that turn into mummified vultures (and appear as strangely soft and leathery eggs, until used). The 'premium models' of these have ghost sound, and relay their message in their users own voice, or wait up to 10 minutes for a reply before returning to the person that sent them.
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Figurines of Wondrous Power (Golarion edition)
Sunstone Homonculus (Thuvia) – This smooth polished figurine only roughly resembles a humanoid form, one with a disproportionate head to the size of the rest of it's body. When it animates and swells into a functional homonculus, it remains the appearance of sunstone, and a hardness 5, but otherwise resembles a grotesque infant with oversized hands and feet, large-headed and gangly-limbed. Unlike a traditional homonculus, this construct can neither fly (not having wings), nor possesses sleep venom or a functional bite attack, but has 2 ranks of Craft (alchemy) as a class skill, giving it a +5 to checks, primarily to aid the user in their own alchemical crafting.
It can internally generate and disgorge through it's oversized mouth, a single dose of any of the following alchemical products; acid, alchemist's fire, antitoxin, smokestick (already lit), tanglefoot bag (the substance created resembling thick amber copal-like sap, more than the usual chalky mixture) or thunderstone. These creations are temporary, and must be used within 1 round of being produced, typically being spat at the target directly and functioning as if being thrown by hand, or spat into the hand of a willing ally, who uses them within 1 round (most commonly the case when producing antitoxin). Any lasting effects, such as the bindings created by a tanglefoot bag lasting 2d4 rounds, or the effects of antitoxin lasting an hour, will function normally. The homonculus can generate 100 gp. worth of these alchemical consumables before it's alchemical reservoir is empty, and it recovers 20 gp. worth of this reservoir for each 24 hours it remains dormant in figurine form.
Barring this requirement to recharge it's reservoir, the sunstone homonculus can remain active for up to 24 hours per week, which do not have to be consecutive, but must be used in 1 hour increments.
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Figurines of Wondrous Power (Golarion edition)
Chitin Quasit (Worldwound/Sarkoris) – Only one of these mishappen things has been found, thank all the good gods. It looks somewhat like an oversized leathery seed pod, but when activated with a command to 'Rise' in Abyssal, peels open and the 'shell' is revealed to be oversized crab pincers that were sheltering a tiny body out of some twisted nightmare.
It's larger arms have a pair of massive crab pincers, like those of a Glabrezu, each as large as it's entire body, that stump along the ground and bear more of it's weight than it's smaller bird-like taloned legs with their moldy feathers (those of a Vrock), as much as it's thick serpentine tail which pushes it forward with a snake-like movement (of a Marilith).
Two pairs of smaller humanoid arms, more appropriately sized for it's tiny body, jut from the sides of it's ribcage and bear four tiny weapons, each different (steel terbutje, ankus, gandasa, light flail), and it attack with these tiny weapons with the Multiweapon fighting ability of a much more powerful Marilith.
Tiny feathered wings flap and flutter uselessly from it's back (from the Nalfashnee), and serve only to allow it to glide, flying for a single round and having to land at the end of any round (but also allowing it to take no damage from falling, as long as it is conscious and unrestrained). It also has a Nalfashnee's warthog-like array of tusks, thrusting from the wide batrachian grin of a Hezrou's squat neckless head, which has a luxurious mane of surprisingly soft and radiant human hair.
The horror is compounded by it's torso, that of a beautiful, albeit tiny, human of whatever gender the user finds most attractive, fit and pristine and quite lovely, if one only could ignore... everything else. It's last demonic feature, that from the Succubus, serving to tie all these demonic elements together.
It's modifications from a base Quasit give it limited flight, as mentioned above, 2 pincer attacks for 1d6 damage (+quasit poison), 4 weapon attacks for 1d4 damage, no bite attack, no shapechanging, no commune or invisibility, and a Str 10.
It does not obey instructions from any user, in any language, not even a demon. Fortunately, it attacks the closest target it sees with malicious abandon, and a clever user can toss it towards an enemy as they activate it, so that they are not the first target of this vicious little brute. If slain, it reverts to it's leathery inert state and cannot be activated again until a number of hours (minimum 1) equal to the number of rounds it was active! (When it is called up again, it has full hit points and any conditions or effects upon it at the time of it's death, such as a curse or affliction, are removed.) Happily, it never tries to flee and just 'stay active forever,' but continues attacking every creature in sight until all are dead, or it is slain, which does mean that if it runs out of enemies, it will come for it's owner, if they remain within sight. Only if no living creatures are within sight for a full round will it sigh in disappointment and curl back up into it's dormant state.
It was found in the middle of a battlefield, where the bodies of both explorers seeking to reclaim the wounded land, and cultists, lay scattered about, some clearly killed by each other, and some on both sizes pierced by many tiny weapons. Whichever side attempted to use it to soften up their foes, did not survive the plan...
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Other Figurine thoughts that would fit the setting;
Andoren - Steel Falcons and Blackened Iron Owls. These stylized falcons and owls are much smaller than most figurines of wondrous power, and can be worn as pendants on a necklace, cloak-pins or charms on a bracelet, or even have the strangely flexible metal of the wings bent to serve as the band of a ring. When a command word is spoken, they become a falcon or owl, respectively, but with the hardness of soft metal (regardless of their appearance, all have hardness 6). They have normal stats for a creature of their type, but the aforementioned hardness, Intelligence of 6 and both speak and understand the common tongue, being primarily used as scouts, spies and messengers by the Steel Falcons and Twilight Talons who use them.
Andoren - Golden Eagles. These larger figurines could have their metal wings bent and be worn as a torc, or perhaps the armband of a particularly burly person, or a belt on one with a very narrow waist, but are most commonly set on one shoulder and worn as an epaulet. They can turn into a regular eagle (with Int 6, speaking common and a Hardness 6), to be used as the above, or, a much more limited amount of times, can turn into a giant eagle, and be used in that form as a messenger or even mount for 7 hours per week. If ordered into combat in this form, each round of combat subtracts 1 hour of remaining duration! (Being attacked does not start this accelerated count, only if the giant eagle itself takes an attack action, or makes an attack of opportunity in a round does it 'eat up' an hour worth of duration.)
Osirion - Chalcedony Wise-Eye. This sleek and stylized statuette of a cat is made of interlocking black and white chalcedony, so cunningly fit together that you can barely feel a seam. When animated (which can only be done by someone with the cantrips class feature), this opinionated cat has Intelligence 6, speaks Osirioni, and knows four cantrips, choosing from from create water, dancing lights, daze, detect magic, ghost sounds, guidance, light, mage hand, mending, minor image, open/close, prestidigitation, read magic, resistance and stabilize.
When it is in cat form, it retains a common countershaded dark and light coloration typical to the breed known as Osirioni Wise-Eye, and shows no sign of being anything other than a normal cat, until it speaks or casts a spell. It can use these four cantrips as directed, although a Diplomacy check may be required to get it to cooperate...
When it is in figurine form, the bearer can choose to add one of these cantrips to their own spells known, giving them, in essence, an extra cantrip slot (from the four listed choices). Whether or not the user is an arcane or divine caster, they can choose any of the cantrips the cat makes available, even if that spell is not on their class list. Prices tend to vary for this relatively common Osirioni item from the Church of Nethys, depending on the utility of the cantrips they know.
[Some surprisingly smart person decided that it would be a terrible idea to give these fickle creatures access to cantrips like acid splash or ray of frost, that could inflict indiscriminate harm!]
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Bidders for the Sun Orchid Elixir (NPCs for a game encounter)
'The Thuvian,' an unexpected sight, this Kalistocrat is a Thuvian by birth, but no longer a citizen of that nation, and no longer ineligible to bid for the elixir. He has a pair of crisp and neatly turned out Blackjacket mercenaries with shiny (never used) weapons and armor. They are distractions. His actual guards are the four quiet and attentive gray clad 'servants' attending his every need, who are all mid-level monks, aspirants to an exclusive martial arts school in Kerse called the Cold Mind Academy that requires its aspirants to work for a year or more for Kalistocrats in menial roles (and their pay forwarded to the school itself) before judging their minds cold enough to learn the secret techniques taught in their inner sanctum. (Monks of the Cold Mind that endure go on to learn fighting styles of both men and devils, as the Academy is run by the church of Mammon, a secret known to none who have not been admitted to the inner sanctum.)
The Thuvian, in his youth, which was not all that far off, as he is younger than one would expect for a bidder for the Sun Orchid Elixir, watched his beloved grandfather degenerate rapidly from age, sometimes even forgetting his grandson entirely and ordering him from his home (the servants knew this was a phase, and always simply ushered him from the room and kept him out of sight for a few hours, until their master remembered his favorite grandson). He dreads the physical degeneration and indignity of age only a bit less than the mental decline, but also harbors a deep dislike for Thuvia's laws forbidding citizens from partaking of the agelessness they so readily sell to others.
He made a fortune in Kerse selling a cheap alchemical variation on the elixir, an unguent that buys someone an hour (for a sum) or a day (with a longer treatment, more of it, and a higher sum) of relief from the rigors of age. After this treatment, the customer not only suffers no physical age penalties, nor feels the creaks and pains of their years, but even looks as they did when they were younger, for the duration. Made from a flower that is distantly related to the sun orchid, and could even be mistaken by it by a non-local who has never seen a genuine sun orchid, he maintains a greenhouse outside of Kerse with hundreds of these 'fake sun orchids' his staff of alchemists use to create this anti-aging cream, as well as a subtle perfume that has grown quite popular among Kalistocrats, called 'Scent of Immortality.'
If he wins; he consumes the elixir on the spot, taking no chances on fraud or theft or mischance on the way home (and having discovered a grey hair in his beard this morning, he's in a bit of a panic, despite being only in his late 20s...). He then, ambition of his young life fulfilled, putters about at loose ends for a few months before settling on his next ambition, punishing the nation of Thuvia for denying this gift to his grandfather, by sponsoring various covert expeditions to steal *and destroy* other doses of the elixir, aspirants to buy the elixir, or expeditions to find the sun orchid (or even to destroy the plant itself, since if it's extinct, there will be no more elixir).
Yes, he's that guy. Once he's up the ladder, he will absolutely pull it up after himself so that nobody else can climb to the height he has reached.
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More Bidders;
[all rough outlines, some have names, some not yet, some have class level thoughts, others, nope...]
Mariposa Henderthane, a handsome middle-aged woman with a small paunch, but muscled arms and a powerful singing voice, is dressed like some sort of Chelish pirate-queen, and is indeed a privateer captain of her own ship, the Fast as Hell, which leads a small privateer fleet that has been quite successful over the years at terrorizing any ships trying to run the blockade at the Arch of Aroden. She made a deal with a devil in her tempestuous youth, something about punishing her annoyingly superior older brother for catching the eye of a young lady she herself fancied at what was supposed to be *her* coming out party, and would like to put off paying that debt for a few more decades... She has the results of over a decade of privateer seizures as her 'stake' and a crew of cutthroat Chelish pirates (ahem, privateers) who are more loyal to (or afraid of?) her, than their own nation. She cuts a fine figure in a red and black bicorne, tight skimpy black vest leaving her muscular arms bare, billowing red silk pantaloons and fluttering black two-tailed cloak (wings of flying) and ruby-adorned cutlass that can throw fireballs a few times a day. Probably her favorite trinket is a silk choker with a cameo of a screaming harpy's face that allows her to shout really loudly and be heard over the din of battle by her crew, even when she is flying high above a ship they are pursuing, raining fireballs down on them. She does not command from the rear...
If she wins; recapturing the vigor of her youth will only hasten her demise, as she dives even more recklessly into battles, cackling with joy, instead of 'slowing down' and retiring to her country estates.
*
Aristocratic gentleman from Nidal, less piercings than one might expect, but only meets at night, or well indoors away from windows, as he is also a vampire. Inevitably asked why an ageless vampire would be bidding on an elixir for mortals to become ageless, he spins the tale of his mortal love, and how he wishes to not see his love grow old and die, to remain not just ageless, but also warm and vital and alive and... full of flavor, for many many years to come. He is a bit of a casual arcanist, using magic to do all sorts of things like open and close doors, etc. Has a permanent unseen servant (and other temporary ones?) that handle his chores, as he does not trust any of the locals to enter his quarters here in the city. He will sit back and talk while his invisible retainers pour refreshments and the like for his guests, and he seems to be familiar with entertaining living guests, enjoying their reaction to the (excellent) food and drink he has selected.
His bid consists of pouch upon pouch of pigeon's blood rubies, easily worth a king's ransom by the time he's done pulling out the various pouches. He owns the mine, you see, and this is what he has held aside for personal use (all quite above board and approved by the Umbral Court, he assures) from the last decade.
If he wins; He will return home expeditiously, by scroll of teleport, greet the person he calls his love, and they will, one by one, call his various vampire spawn into private meetings and kill them. He will then kill himself.
His lover, a cleric of Zon-Kuthon, and highly placed member of the Belsavais Doctrine, will use divine magic to raise him back to mortal life, whereupon he will drink the elixir and become immortal, and alive.
On the one hand, he also believes the Belsavais Doctrine, that undead cannot truly experience the pain that is Zon-Kuthon's sacrement. On the other hand, he really missed food and drink and sex...
*
Nakul, a thin-lipped Kellid woman from Numeria, accompanied by a pair of absolutely identical dwarves (one is literally a clone of the other, and neither remembers which is the original) she calls the Kellid words for One and Two, and an iron golem-like contraption of metal and gears that lumbers beside her.
She, One and Two, and her 'golem' carry or throw an assortment of strange weapons that produce bolts and explosions of lightning and fire and sharp, hot, stabbing beams of light? Numeria. Go figure.
She is lean, and surprisingly, even unnaturally, stronger and tougher than she looks (something, something Numerian fluids), but beginning to creak under the weight of years, accumulated radiation damage (some quite visible as the right side of head, face, arm, torso and upper leg are burned, and these burns are still warm to the touch and have visible red embers, as if still smoldering, *years later*), and the actual physical weight of the stuff she carts around, because if she looks away for a second, one of her Technic League 'allies' will steal it away! Her bid is exotic Numerian tech, and will be hard to value for appraisal, since at least some of it is unique and potentially priceless! (Such as her right eye, which she plucks out as part of her bid, which grants darkvision, low-light vision, see radiation and see invisible to the person in whom it is implanted, and nanotechnologically implants itself and connect, if placed within an empty eye socket.)
*
One of these hopefuls is actually Razmir. In disguise. Good luck!
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Mwinyi Kitwana
Ooh, I like the idea very much of a non-greedy un-selfish bidder for the Sun Orchid Elixir! I had pretty much gone into this with the idea that they'd all be self-interested scumbags of one degree or another, but the idea of using the elixir to revitalize *an area* instead of a person, is fun! (Imagine a Rahadoumi druid representative wanting to use it as a power component for a massive control weather effect re-greening a large section of her native desertifying nation, or someone from Kyonin or Sarkoria hoping to use it similarly to revitalize a demon-corrupted region of one of their own woodlands. Although I do like the of someone from the Magaambya thinking of it first! They actually have a wizard's school with a strong focus on both doing good *and* plant magic!)
Neat idea, and inspires all sorts of other ideas in me.
Another bidder I had considered was an old Cleric of Pharasma from Osirion, wanting a sample of the elixir A) for themself, as they fear their goddess' judgement!, B) for themself, as they are an insanely misguided and egotistic member of the Pharasmin Penitence, and convinced that if they suffer *several* human lifetimes, they are honoring Pharasma *even more* than if they just suffer for a normal span of years, C) to hand over to the church to analyze so that they can find a 'cure' to strip all these rich jerks fake immortality away from them, D) to hand over to the church so that they can trace the location of Arkatos (sp?) from the vial and it's contents, and use some sort of sympathetic magic to unleash a wrath of psychopompian fury on his heretical tushy!
The fun twist would be if the old Pharasmin had convinced their church to go in on plan C or D, but is going to change their mind once it's in their hand and just drink it right there if they win! (Enjoy spending the rest of your, probably short, immortal life running from inquisitors that you have personally trained!)
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Unrelated to the Sun Orchid elixir auction idea;
Is it a conspiracy theory or a plot seed? You decide!
Khortash Kaine is the priest king of Nemret Noktoria, a ghoul gourmand in a city of ghoul gourmands. He is also the secret head of the most secret of societies in that benighted city, the Forbidden Feast.
Some time ago, they scored their most exotic meal ever, having successfully stolen one of the 'missing' canopic jars containing the liver of Arazni. Over years, taking only the most delicate of nibbles from this irreplaceable amuse bouche, the elite among the elite of Nemret Noktoria tasted the flesh of a (fallen*) god.
Like many ghouls of that culture, the priest-king had long since progressed past a mere gnawing hunger for simple meat, and instead had cultivated the advanced ghoulish talent to sample the memories of life indelibly linked to the consumed flesh (a feat for this can be found in the Faction Guide, IIRC), and he and his fellow feasters had devoured countless bodies exhumed from ancient Orisioni, Jistkan or Tekritanan sources, reliving moments mundane and magnificent from millenia long dust.
Before Arazni, his most memorable feast (one that nearly killed him...) had been a fragment of the shell of Ulunat, the spawn of Rovagug that Nethys slew in ages past. But to taste of her, in achingly sparse tidbits that granted only the faintest glimpses of her life, was sublime, and he ran out of Arazni's divine flesh last year, when she ascended once again to divinity.
He'll do anything to recapture that sensation. To taste divinity on his tongue. Razmir is too far away, and also prone to destroying entire cities when his wrath is aroused. Too dangerous. Surely nobody will miss Ghlaunder? But where to find him? The head of Ydersius? Again, not sure where that is... Ah. Of course. No need to go so far afield, or seek amongst the planes for his next forbidden feast.
Walkena. The might of Nemret Noktoria will sweep over the feeble mortal forces of Mzali like flesh-stripping beetles on a corpse already dead. And once again, a god shall pass his withered lips.
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Thoughts on simulacrum;
Ice is the most common 'base' from which the body is shaped, but certainly not the only one. Shaped snow stiffened with seawater is used by the Erutaki and Snowcaster elves. Bog mud, lent support by a 'skeleton' or cage of wicker, twigs and roots in the Mushfens. And in the deep deserts of Katapesh, a gnoll sorcerer is known to use sand, arranged in the figure desired, darkened with several pints of black ink, and then 'awakened' by three drops of his own blood onto the component taken from the original creature (such as a lock of hair from caravanserai guard he killed and wants to replace with a loyal spy and lackey). [PF1 didn't include the 'must include a component of the creature to be simulacra'd,' for space reasons, IIRC, but Imma add that back, because I liked it for reasons of both flavor and balance.]
Simulacra have a connection to shadow magic, and some appear to be weakened by that tie, inflicting only nonlethal damage with any natural attacks, such as a manticore's spikes or a winter wolf's breath. [I'd be fine with this being a house rule for all simulacra!] Note that this only applies to natural weapons and the like. If a simulacra of a warrior is handed a sword or bow, those weapons are real and will do lethal damage normally. This property extends to spells or spell like abilities, or other effects, like the aforementioned winter wolf's breath, or the damaging spells of a simulacra of yourself. All nonlethal, as they are as much shadow as substance.
If one lucks upon a collection of dragon scales, say, thirty or so, it might seem to be time to go absolutely mad with power and create thirty simulacra of that dragon, and take over some small kingdom of your choosing. Alas. You can create no more than one simulacra of a specific creature at a time. If you make a second, the first crumbles back into whatever component base you made it from (which may well be your intent, if the first simulacra now labors under curses or crippling injuries or whatever, that you do not have the time or inclination or ability to fix). You can, of course, have simulacra of many different individual creatures. And *other* spellcasters could make simulacra of that same creature, which could be surreal, if your fake caravan guard ran into somebody else's fake caravan guard... [As tempting as it may be to snatch some hair from the brush of a person you despise and make a dozen simulacra of them to cower before you and do your laundry, this spell is not optimally designed for that level of pettiness. Nor for armies of disposable (half-strength) dragons, because you found a bunch of scales that one time. Or a dozen half-strength versions of you to cast minor spells and run your many mercantile concerns! There's a part of me that loves that, and another part of me that hates that. Because I've been both a player and a GM, I suspect. :)]
Healing these critters. Here's where I'd give a little back, after making them do nonlethal damage with many attack forms, and making them unable to be pumped out in quantities from a single source. Sure, you can spend money in a lab to repair them, but they are, in effect, replicas of living creatures, not constructs with construct immunities. It should have to eat, breathe, drink, etc. (although it cannot gain experience or reproduce!#) and while it might not heal *naturally,* it seems like it would not be out of bounds to allow magical healing to affect it normally, as a living creature, if it is a simulacrum of a living creature, or an undead, if it is a simulacrum of a (corporeal!) undead. Additionally, I'd allow the wizard themself to cast shadow conjuration to replicate the effects of 1st - 3rd level conjuration (healing) spells *to affect the simulacrum only.* So if it gets poisoned or diseased, the wizard would be able to shadow conjure up a lesser restoration, and if it just takes hit point damage, a shadow conjured cure serious wounds would do the trick much cheaper and faster than a day in the lab.
#Results may vary in Jalmeray and Quantium. When the wishes and demiplanes start flying around, the 'rules' tend to go out the window, and it would not surprise me in the slightest if there were some folk out there with an illusion for a parent. Golarion has seen stranger!
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Omashi Ogres
An Azlanti tale tells that ogres were created millenia ago by an extremist cloud giant wizard who wanted to create an army of giant(ish) soldiers who combined the strength of hill giants, and the fecundity of their human foes. These sorry halfbreeds were the result, and a small team of Azlanti heroes (and some Kellid allies, who, as usual for Azlanti ‘histories,’ go unremembered…) infiltrated his keep and slew the cloud giant and his allies, but failed to eradicate all of these new ogres, who escaped in small numbers to different locations (some transported away by his cloud giant allies, to demonstrate the effectiveness of his techniques).
Lacking numbers, these ogres are often inbred and degenerate, in the modern day, particularly in Varisia, although a few small communities of them in the Omashi mountains of Qadira are much more stable, genetically, and wholesome of features, in some cases more advanced than even the hill giant stock they were bred from! Qadira has been attempting to field a troop of these ‘civilized Ogres’ as heavy infantry, but been suspiciously unable to bring the troop to full strength, due to… setbacks. Unknown to them, a Taldan team of Lion Blade saboteurs have expended much effort to infiltrate the ogre tribes of the Omashi mountains and stir up anti-Qadiran sentiment, convincing the ogres that the Qadirans want to lure their children away to turn into slave-soldiers, and then throw their lives away to save the lives of their own more precious (to them) people!
The Lion Blades play a dangerous game. If discovered by the ogres they are deceiving and manipulating, the Omashi tribes might *willingly* ally with the Qadirans, and no longer only be available in dribs and drabs for this new ‘heavy infantry’ experiment…
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Ecology of the Corbies!
The size of halflings, and traveling in flocks of at least a dozen, but rarely more than thirty, corbies resemble their dire corby relations in appearance, if not stature or temperament. Corbies are far less aggressive, prone to attempting to intimidate their way out of a conflict with a frightful cawing that is often successful at frustrating even far more powerful predators (can they stack Aid Other on an Intimidate check, that might be scary!). They primarily feed on… everything they can fit in their mouths. Lichen, fungus, bugs, carrion, rodents and all sorts of creatures smaller than themselves. They almost never attack human sized individuals, unless starving, or they stumble upon them while sleeping or otherwise at a serious disadvantage, as corbies are inherently danger-adverse. Confronted by a threat that frightens them, the smaller males charge forward, attempting their intimidating raucous cries, while raking furiously with their small claws, better suited to climbing than to fighting, while the larger females turn tail and run in the other direction, away from the threat. While occasionally a successful tactic for preserving the species, it is predictable, and an intelligent foe might provide a threatening display to one side of a group of corbies, while waiting for the females to ‘flee to safety’ in the other direction, straight into an ambush! Corbies will consistently fall for this, because they are barely more intelligent than an animal, far less than any species that has mastered tool use or language.
Nomadic, corby flocks strip an area of anything even remotely edible, even chewing on scraps of leather or old bones, and storing any extra food or water found in their expansive gullets (which can hold several days worth of meals or water), to be consumed, or shared with their flock, later. They then move on to the next area, and do it all over again. Only when they find an area of relative bounty, like a fallen corpse of good size, do they settle in for multiple days worth of gluttonous feasting, and when this happens, each female immediately lays a single egg, that hatches three days later. The chick is cleaned by its mother, and then immediately abandoned to fend for itself. Its first meal is its own shell, followed by whatever ‘bounty’ led the flock to camp in this area. If the bounty still has plenty of meat available, each female immediately lays a second egg, and there can be dozens of corbies swarming around a large feast, such as a purple worm corpse.
If evicted from their feast, the corbies use their standard tactics, the males turning to threat displays and fighting, the females seizing up any unhatched eggs in their humanoid arms and hustling off in the other direction.
As the males fight, they produce what one Pathfinder waggishly called a ‘cawcawphony’ of sound, so loud and discordant that it effectively deafens anyone who is engaged with more than three of them within 10’. (This also effectively ‘blinds’ users of auditory blindsight or blindsense, and can give the corbies some advantage against a few darklands opponents.)
Corbies would seem to be inclined to be naturally cannibalistic, but are oddly formal about the death of one of their own. If in a safe location, they nudge the fallen, and then wait patiently until carrion eating insects or vermin arrive, and then eat *those*. After this ‘last meal,’ they abandon the fallen corby and resume their wandering ways.
Corbies have no fear of dire corbies, and are perplexingly utterly ignored in turn by these psychotically aggressive cousins. When corby wanderings take them into a dire corby roost, they wander about, poking things and looking for edibles, and then wander off disappointed, the dire corbies not only ignoring them, but pointedly avoiding looking at, or even touching, the smaller corbies, as if they find their presence offensive, but are unwilling to even acknowledge them!
Despite their tendency to eat everything in sight, and exceptionally thorough scavenging abilities (bonuses to Perception and to Survival rolls to find food), corby flocks also oddly act to spread spores from various fungi around large areas of the darklands, far faster than the fungus would spread on it's own, and their nutrient rich droppings prove fertile ground for these fungi to propogate. As a result, areas of the darklands regularly traveled by a flock of corbies, instead of being a devastated barren wasteland, often flourish with new fungal life within a week of the flock moving on.