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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)