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Human (unchained) Summoner + Racial Linage + Ancestor Eidolon
| Sasayaki | Mar 1, 2017, 06:22 am |
Hi guys,
Random question; if I'm a Human (unchained) Summoner, who takes the Racial Linage feat (selecting, say, ratfolk), can my Ancestor eidolon be a ratfolk?
Racial Linage:
Prerequisite: Human.
Benefit: Choose another humanoid race. You count as both human and that race for any effects related to race. For example, if you choose dwarf, you are considered both a human and a dwarf for the purpose of taking traits, feats, how spells and magic items affect you, and so on.
Ancestor Eidolons are in Blood of the Beast, but since I couldn't find an OGL source for them I'm not comfortable reproducing it. :( But basically the jist is, the eidolon has the same race as its summoner.
Would this work?
Can Sanctified Slayer take Extra Slayer Talent?
| Sasayaki | Aug 25, 2014, 06:48 pm |
3 people marked this as FAQ candidate.
Hi all,
Quick request for clarification. Can the Sanctified Slayer Inquisitor archetype take the feat Extra Slayer Talent?
The relevant feats and class abilities are:
Sanctified Slayer wrote:
Talented Slayer (Ex)
At 8th, 16th, 17th, and 20th levels, a sanctified slayer can gain a single slayer talent, including those from the list of rogue talents that a slayer can take, but not an advanced slayer talent.
This ability replaces second judgment, third judgment, slayer, and true judgment.
Extra Slayer Talent wrote:
Through long practice, you have learned how to perform a special talent.
Prerequisite: Slayer talent class feature.
Benefits
You gain one additional slayer talent. You must meet the prerequisites for this slayer talent.
Special:
You can take this feat multiple times. Each time you do, you gain another slayer talent.
The issue is that the Sanctified Slayer doesn't, technically, have the "Slayer talent class feature", as they have the "Talented Slayer" class feature.
Can I have this clarified? It seems logical to me that any ability that grants unfettered access to slayer talents should count as the slayer talent class feature.
How creative is "creative"?
 Sasayaki | Aug 18, 2014, 08:18 am |
In the Pathfinder Society Guide to Organised Play, under the section Creative Solutions, it states:
Sometimes during the course of a scenario, your players might surprise you with a creative solution to an encounter (or the entire scenario) that you didn’t see coming and that isn’t expressly covered in the scenario.
How literally should this statement be interpreted? If a module with a pit-trap states something akin to:
Should the PCs search the bottom of the trap, they receive the following rewards: 10gp
But the PCs found the trap, safely set it off, and navigated around the pit without looking in.
The module expressly stated that the PCs must search the bottom of the pit in order to receive the awards. Is this considered "explicitly covered"?
I'm especially curious, since this is part of a much broader question of "can a module override the PFSGtOP, or are all PFS modules written with the assumption that the PFSGtOP is an overarching set of rules that governs all modules"?
Kitsune's Realistic Likeness -- Humans Only?
| Sasayaki | Jun 30, 2014, 11:18 pm |
4 people marked this as FAQ candidate.
Heya all,
I've got two Kitsune certs and so I have a couple of questions for Pathfinder Society Play. I realise it's a minor thing unlikely to be officially FAQ'd or whatever, but I guess if someone from the campaign staff could jump and give me a tick that'd be great.
I'm curious to know what a Kitsune with the Realistic Likeness feat can transform into. The rules text seems to indicate "any individual", whereas the flavour text seems limited to humans. To preserve sanity, I think a middle ground is in order.
For the curious, the texts are:
--
Change Shape:
Change Shape (Su) A kitsune can assume the appearance of a specific single human form of the same sex. The kitsune always takes this specific form when she uses this ability. A kitsune in human form cannot use her bite attack, but gains a +10 racial bonus on Disguise checks made to appear human. Changing shape is a standard action. This ability otherwise functions as alter self, except that the kitsune does not adjust her ability scores.
Realistic Likeness:
When you are in human form, you can take the shape of a specific individual.
Benefit: You can precisely mimic the physical features of any individual you have encountered. When you use your racial change shape ability, you can attempt to take the form of an individual, granting you a +10 circ*mstance bonus on Disguise checks made to fool others with your impersonation.
--
I included the fluff text for Realistic Likeness as it indicates human only. However, the flavour text indicates that the Kitsune can attempt to impersonate "any individual". This indicates that it is more or less as-per alter self, minus stat changes, with unlimited duration.
I personally think that being able to impersonate any individual is a lot more fun, but I do agree there should be limits (attempting to claim a gold dragon as an "individual" seems wildly inappropriate). But if it's just humans, then the ability seems remarkably underpowered, since it's spending a racial ability and a feat on something that could be duplicated by a first or second level spell or even just some skill ranks if you are already human.
Accordingly, I was going to prepare a small cheat sheet for potential GMs regarding this issue that was going to include the two relevant texts along with my reasoning as to how it works or should work (bearing in mind mechanics text trumps flavour text).
I would suggest that it works the following way:
The Kitsune's Realistic Likeness feat allows the Kitsune to adopt the form of any specific or generic individual of the humanoid type, as per alter self. Additionally, the Kitsune may adopt the form of any other appropriate human-like form such as native outsiders who are descended from humanoids (Tieflings and Aasimar, amongst others), humanoid-appearing Fey, or constructs shaped as Medium or Small sized humanoids.
It does not permit the Kitsune to adopt the form of creatures too strange and fantastic for the biology of the Kitsune to adapt to, such as dragons, non-humanoid constructs, furniture, etc. In any event, this disguise brings with it none of the creature's actual biology. Shapeshifting into a Tiefling with horns does not grant a gore attack, shapeshifting into a Quickling does not grant access to their speed, etc. The shapeshift is, in all ways, cosmetic. This is a non-magical change (but true seeing and similar effects still pierce it).
A Kitsune cannot assume another gender while pregnant, although they may use their power to disguise their condition.
Irrespective of the form chosen, the modifiers for the Disguise still apply (including impersonating an alternate sex, race, age categories, etc).
Thoughts? Comments?
This is How A Dwarven Queen Dies, Part III
| Sasayaki | Mar 3, 2014, 01:24 am |
Link to Part I: http://paizo.com/threads/rzs2qp2c?This-Is-How-A-Dwarven-Queen-Dies-Part-I
Link to previous part: http://paizo.com/threads/rzs2qq0w?This-is-How-A-Dwarven-Queen-Dies-Part-II
Visiting Telaki's mother it is!
The next part of the thread will be posted in a new thread on Saturday the 8th of March.
Part III: “Thicker Than Water”
Highhelm
“No.” Telaki inhaled, folding her hands in front of her. “I should see Shadra.”
High King Borogrim nodded in approval. “You should. Take a king's advice – do what your mother tells you. She is wiser than most give her credit for.”
“You are preaching to the choir, father. Of course I will.”
With a nod, Borogrim dismissed her. She returned the gesture then walked from the great hall towards the courtyard, her mind turning over her words before she spoke them. She wanted to be as prepared as possible.
She did not, however, prepare for the visage of her mother crying her eyes out into the courtyard fountain.
“I know why you're here,” said Shadra, her shoulders trembling. “You want to leave.”
Telaki's heart wilted. “I have to.”
“You don't have to do anything! You are Telaki Duerguin, only daughter of High King Borogrim, my only child! You owe the Pathfinder Society nothing!”
“This is not about the Pathfinder Society. It never was. This is about the good of Golarion.”
Shadra stood, her graceful dwarven features contorted with grief. “You cannot justify this! Golarion will survive without you, and Torag knows we need you here!”
“Why?” It genuinely confused her. “What part of me cannot spend a decade away from these halls? What dangers can my brothers, the king and you, yourself, not handle?”
“I am no warrior,” said Shadra.
Telaki reached up and brushed back her fringe. “I've seen your arrows strike a dwarf-shaped target at two hundred yards. You are not a warrior; you are what a warrior aspires to be.”
Shadra gripped Telaki's shoulders, her strong fingers holding her tight. “Don't leave,” she said, accenting every word for emphasis. “Please.”
Post “1” to ask Shadra to respect her autonomy.
Post “2” to bargain for Shadra's approval.
Post “3” to not attempt to convince her and leave anyway.
Voting ends on Thursday the 6th of March.
This is How A Dwarven Queen Dies, Part II
| Sasayaki | Feb 22, 2014, 10:56 pm |
Link to Part I: http://paizo.com/threads/rzs2qp2c?This-Is-How-A-Dwarven-Queen-Dies-Part-I
Link to previous part: http://paizo.com/threads/rzs2qp2c?This-Is-How-A-Dwarven-Queen-Dies-Part-I
Since we got no votes on the next part I'm selecting option '1', to talk more about the Pathfinder Society. Thanks for reading, guys! Feel free to vote at the end.
The next part of the thread will be posted in a new thread on Saturday the 1st of March of February.
Part II: “Blood, Shadow, or Death”
Highhelm
“I want you to let me make my own way to Absalom.”
The request drew the questioning stare of High King Borogrim. “Absalom is some journey away. I had assumed you would travel with your retinue--”
“If I am to be a Pathfinder, I must face danger. If I cannot make this journey by myself, I do not see how I can hope to complete their training.”
“Pathfinders very rarely travel alone, Telaki.”
“Granted.”
“Take a dozen of my finest soldiers, then.”
She shook her head, blonde braids tumbling. “No. A half dozen, and market guards only. The Pathfinder Society will not treat my differently for my royal blood nor would I expect them to. The sooner I become accustomed to this, the better.”
The king did not look pleased but relented. “Eight. And that is my final offer.”
“Eight then.” She smiled. “Thank you once again.”
Borogrim did not seem pleased. “My only daughter, a Pathfinder. Staying at that lodge... diving into dusty tombs, travelling with strangers, fighting and dying in the name of nothing.”
“I do not fear blood, shadow or death. And you, of all people, should understand the value of knowledge. The Pathfinder Society seeks the Sky Citadels. How can we turn our backs on their help?”
The king said nothing, and Telaki knew that her reasoning had won it.
“What does your mother say about all this?”
She hesitated. “I... have not asked.”
“Then the matter is far from decided. I may be king, but I fear for my head if I were permit Shadra's child to endanger herself without her consent. All the spears in the Highhelm could not protect me from her wrath.”
Telaki made no attempt to disagree, and simply nodded.
The king touched his brow, closing his eyes a moment, and then regarded her. “Is there anything else?”
Post “1” to visit Telaki's mother.
Post “2” to talk about life outside Highhelm.
Post “3” to make preparations to depart.
Voting ends on Thursday the 27th of February.
This Is How A Dwarven Queen Dies, Part I
| Sasayaki | Feb 15, 2014, 05:36 am |
Hey all, this is something that I'm experimenting with at the moment. It's an interactive story, posted in pieces, with the community dictating what happens next. We have an end goal, we have a start, and now the rest is up to you. See the end of the post for directions.
The next part of the thread will be posted in a new thread on Saturday the 22nd of February.
Part I: “This Is How A Dwarven Queen Dies”
Highhelm
Telaki Duerguin, only daughter of High King Borogrim the Hale and 13th in line for the throne, fell bloodied and scorched to the ground, her song cut short. The Crown of Borogrim the Hale, King of Highhelm, fell in front of her broken body, her blade Vajra clanging to the ground beside it. Dwarven blood ran freely onto the stones of Highhelm.
This would have been the end of her but dwarves were stubborn and tougher than stone. Her hand found Vajra. Groaning in pain, Telaki pushed off the cobblework, climbing back to her feet. She pulled her shield Ironwall close to her side.
Ash rained inside the sky citadel and the wind whipped around her, pulling her blonde hair in all directions. The incubus Sanglamore, he who had bought such ruin to her people, strode amongst the blood and the bodies, indifferent to the dead dwarves around him.
The city guard would soon arrive, but they would be too late to save the king. Telaki gripped Vajra and stepped forward.
“Sanglamore!”
The fiend stopped, looking over his shoulder. “You should stay on the ground,” he warned, his voice a deep purr. “You are not my goal.”
Telaki would not permit Borogrim to die. The soldiers who lay broken around her had given their lives for the king; she could do no less herself. “You have spilled enough dwarven blood today, fiend. It is time to put you down.”
That seemed to amuse him. Sanglamore fully faced the lone dwarf, bloodied scimitar held comfortably in his pale hand. “You, your songs, and your tiny sword are no match for me.”
Telaki cleared her throat, the lingering magic of her war chant floating around her, the air whipped into a swirl by her power. “Then come,” she spat, leveling her blade at the Incubus, the adamantine edge stained red by the fires that burned all around her.
“This is how a dwarven queen dies.”
***
Six months earlier
“You've grown up so fast.” Her father smiled as he touched her cheek. “I'm proud of you.”
Telaki couldn't help but smile back. “Thank you, father, but I don't feel I've earned your praise just yet.”
“Spoken like a true queen; one who realizes that respect is not automatic and must be earned.”
“I am no queen, nor will I ever be.” Telaki's smile faded. “Unless every one of my twelve brothers succumbs to some fatal accident.”
“Do not speak of such things,” Borogrim said. “For too much of our recent history dwarves have stood apart. We must unite again, for the good of all, under the banner of our true leader.”
“That is to be Agrym's path. My brother will serve well as king; I want to do something else with my life.” Telaki put her hands on her hips. “I have applied for membership with the Pathfinder Society. The Silver Crusade needs soldiers, and too long have I languished in our mountain halls.”
Her father was disappointed, she could tell, but he concealed it well. “Your life is your own, Telaki Duerguin. If you leave, you do so with my blessing.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, father.”
“What more could I give my only daughter?”
Telaki hesitated, the words floating to her lips. “Well...”
Post “1” to talk more about the Pathfinder Society.
Post “2” to talk about life outside Highhelm.
Post “3” to visit Telaki's mother.
Voting ends on Thursday the 20th of February.
Arcane Duelist - Material Components
| Sasayaki | Feb 13, 2014, 11:14 pm |
Hey all,
I'm starting an Arcane Duelist soon who has a gladius and a heavy shield. At 5th level, they receive a modified version of the Arcane Bond class feature, which reads: (bolded for emphasis)
At 5th level, an arcane duelist gains the arcane bond ability as a wizard, using a weapon as his bonded item. He may not choose a familiar or other type of bonded item. He may use the hand holding his bonded weapon for somatic components.
However, several bard spells (namely glitterdust, haste, others) require material components. My understanding is that a free hand is required for material components. From the core rulebook, "magic", "casting spells", "choosing a spell" section:
To cast a spell, you must be able to speak (if the spell has a verbal component), gesture (if it has a somatic component), and manipulate the material components or focus (if any). Additionally, you must concentrate to cast a spell.
It seems the intention is for the Arcane Duelist to be able to cast spells while wielding their bonded weapon (and, in fact, they must or a difficult concentration check is required), is it possible to get this errata'd/FAQ'd to include something like the following text? (changes in bold)
At 5th level, an arcane duelist gains the arcane bond ability as a wizard, using a weapon as his bonded item. He may not choose a familiar or other type of bonded item. He may use the hand holding his bonded weapon for somatic components, and while wielding the bonded weapon, is treated as having the Eschew Materials feat.
I was looking for an easy way of saying "can consume material components without holding them", as occurs in several of the Pathfinder novels, but I figured this was an easier way of solving it.
Thoughts?
Aroden, God of Mankind - Even Gods Cannot Cheat Death.
| Sasayaki | Oct 19, 2013, 10:04 am |
2 people marked this as a favorite.
(SPOILERS: Mild spoilers for Bonekeep Part II)
Bonekeep, Level Two
"FALL BACK!"
Spoiler:
The words came as a roar, an urging born from certain knowledge. Aroden's halo flared as he swung his longsword Ebonstorm, Hand of Mankind once more; its adamantine blade dug deep into the construct's body. Had it been a living creature it would have been slain long ago, but the mechanical monster continued its assault, ignoring the grievous wound.
Aroden, a God made flesh, slid his feet back, inching towards the portal and adopting a defensive stance. He blocked another attack, but his arms were weary and his wounds many. The walls were splattered in the blood of slain Hound Archons and men alike.
They had anticipated peril. They had not anticipated wholesale slaughter.
Arazni's Gift, his platemail that had borne him through so much of his troubled rebirth, was scratched and dented. The monster barely seemed slowed by such deterrences as a cocoon of metal.
"Hold fast," came the call from within the portal. A rich, intelligence voice mixed in with animalistic growl. "Never fear Godling, Servare the Red is here."
Aroden felt, rather than saw, his red dragon ally slip through the portal behind him; the creature was the size of a horse, all horns, red scales and fierce claws, its mute gnome slave strapped limply to its chest.
Why anyone would choose to willingly become an eidolon Aroden would never know, but the huge, blackened wound on the creature's chest that never seemed to heal spoke volumes about the matter.
He had no time to think about it. The construct lunged again with both arms. Aroden twisted his body, parrying one; the second screamed as it dragged along his plate, sparks flying wildly all around him. He stepped back, nearly tripping over the fallen body of their fellow Pathfinder, his crimson blood slicking the floor of this strange, hostile place.
"I said fall back, Servare! Our forces dwindle... This is a fight we cannot win! Take Anrakyr and flee this place, never to return!"
A rush of air behind him nearly knocked him off his feet as Servare's massive nostrils snorted dismissively. "You fleshlings can never understand. A dragon does not flee, least of all from an overgrown clock."
This was no time for bickering. Aroden lunged with his blade, slicing off a hunk of construct. He grit his teeth, halo flaring once more as he leapt forward, driving Ebonstorm in up to the hilt. He roared triumphantly, feeling victory to be certain.
The construct accepted the hit as though it were a mere inconvenience. It slammed its spiked arms into him, puncturing the steel of his armour, finding flesh below.
He could heal himself. Could restore whole damaged flesh, but air couldn't fill his ruined lungs. The construct released him. He tried to speak--tried to breathe--but nothing happened.
Ebonstorm fell to the ground, numb hands unable to hold it. His legs collapsed, Servare casually stepped over him, and the world once again went dark.
Aroden died with a smile on his face.
-----
But then there was light. There was always light. Aroden just could not stay dead.
There was warmth above him and below. Was he on the Material Plane, or had he ascended once again? Excitement filled him. Had death returned his divine essence?
He felt a touch on his cheek. A warm, comforting touch he knew well. Aroden kept his eyes closed, knowing who it was.
"Good evening, Arazni."
"Good evening, Aroden," was her soft reply. The tone sealed it for him. He hadn't ascended. This was... well, it was something. But it wasn't the plane of the Gods.
Aroden had known Arazni as a mortal, as his herald, his comrade, and... something else. It was complicated, the "us", but for most the term "close friends" was enough.
Quite close.
Those were brighter days, very much in the past. So much had changed in the mortal realms. Now Arazni ruled in Geb, a shade of her former self, her body dead and rotting. Horrid to look upon, but far less horrifying than her twisted and darkened soul.
He remembered Geb with much fondness, a bright and verdant land. Fertile.
No longer. Aroden was horrified to see it as it was today, just as he was its ruler. Seeing Geb's dead and rotten citizens tending the fields would be a sight that would never leave him, in this life or any other.
"I thought for sure that I would ascend if I were killed," he said, trying to sit up, but his muscles felt weak. Aroden remained in the white, laying on some unseen surface, content. "Wasn't that our deal?"
"What deal?" said Arazni, gently stroking his cheek. "Are you Asmodeus now, sneaking divinity into your fine print?"
"No, but I simply assumed..."
"You assumed that you would be reborn as an extraplanar mortal, live a good life, die in the service of a worthy organisation and regain your Godhood?"
"Something like that," Aroden admitted. "The best plans are often the most simple."
Arazni--or whatever was passing for Arazni--made a soft tsking sound. "One cannot solve a puzzle by finding a single piece. The mystery of your... absence... cannot be solved by a single act of bravery. How many other mortals have perished in the halls of Bonekeep? Do they all deserve to be Gods too?"
"No," said Aroden, "and I wonder sometimes if I do, either."
Arazni tittered in amusem*nt. "Now you are Cayden Cailean, the reluctant God? How can you ever be expected to regain your place amongst the pantheon when you're too busy stealing the portfolios of your peers?"
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Words mean things. You shouldn't misuse them."
They say there in silence, Aroden basking in the warmth, Arazni cradling his head.
"I want to open my eyes," said Aroden, "but I'm afraid of what I might see."
"Afraid of me?"
"Afraid that you're not really here, and that this is all some kind of pre-expiration hallucination. Afraid Pharasma's pulling some kind of cosmic joke on me."
"The Lady of Graves is not known for her humour," Arazni remarked. "And if you ever doubt you're not really a God, I'm afraid the halo gives it away."
"Similar features have been seen in others."
There was no response, at least not right away, save Arazni's gentle breathing.
"Aroden... have you wondered, sometimes, why you don't possess the wizarding abilities you had in life?"
"I cast spells," Aroden protested. "I draw upon the magic of the Gods. This is a feat impossible for supplicants of dead Gods."
"But you do not cast arcane spells."
"I assumed that they would return in time."
"Quite an assumption," Arazni said.
"Can you tell me why?"
"Of course," said Arazni. "But do you trust what I'm telling you?"
"As much as I trust anything."
She inhaled, lifting Aroden's head slightly, then spoke. "Do you remember how you died?"
Visions of that terrible, painful event leapt back in his mind. He forced them away. "Yes."
"The death of mortals is a messy, bloody, screaming affair. The death of Gods are no different. When you were struck down, your divine essence was split into twelve aspects... The same aspects who once walked Golarion. The beggar, thief, fisherman, hunter, shepherd, farmer, merchant, tailor, craftsman, artist, scholar and soldier. You, of course, are the soldier."
"That explains the blade. The armour."
"Indeed. There are eleven others, just like you. One for each of the guises."
"What... happens when I find them?"
"Oh," said Arazni, "I would be more concerned about what happens when they find you."
"Why?"
"Each of them know this. The essence of Aroden was divided into eight. With the death of each--the true death--the essence stored in the fragment is distributed evenly. Look at how powerful you've become in such a short time, Aroden. But a few months ago you were a skilled but untested novice, strong but untrained... now you wield spell and blade with considerable skill. Why do you think that is?"
Aroden shuffled uneasily, grimacing, fighting the temptation to open his eyes. "Because I have trained with the Pathfinder society. Because I have explored, reported, cooperated. I've grown as an individual--"
"As a person? As one of them?" Arazni's voice took on a bitter edge. "Aroden, you are far better than the writhing fleshbags you associate with. It is true that the Pathfinder Society will, sooner rather than late, do something terribly important, and it's important you be there, but for now... these eleven other fragments of your soul should be your priority. Retrieve them and reclaim your destiny."
He knew it was wrong. If the other eleven shards were just as he was, they had every right to live. Besides. Aroden kept his word and he had pledged service to the Pathfinder Society. No small part of him knew that this was important.
"I'll investigate the eleven," Aroden said, meaning every bit of it. "After the Pathfinder Society's work is done."
"If you wait that long," said Arazni, her tone ominous, "they will find you first."
-----
Aroden opened his eyes and found himself staring directly into the nostrils of a red dragon. Beyond that, he could see the walls of the Grand Lodge in Absalom.
"Welcome back," purred Servare, his gnome slave limply hanging from its harness. "You've been gone for some time. We were unsure we could revive you--your spirit almost crossed over--but alas, I did not have Aasimar for my meal tonight." The bright runic mark on his forehead glowed. "Mores the pity."
Aroden pushed back Servare's snout, sitting up. "Down, dragon. You get your fill of horse meat." His head ached. His chest ached. "How long?"
"Eight days."
"Feels like just a few minutes."
"Keep the experience to yourself," smirked Servare, his gnome gurgling mindlessly. "I plan on living forever."
"Dragons die, you know."
"Not this dragon, meatsack. I have a bleachling to sap the life from."
Aroden rubbed his chest, trying to force the ache away. "Take it from a God," he said, grimacing as he slowly staggered to his feet, his hands trembling ever so slightly before him, his whole body drained.
"Nobody cheats death forever."
Zaheeda's Journal - Atonement
| Sasayaki | Sep 25, 2013, 06:09 am |
4 people marked this as a favorite.
Atonement
From Zaheeda's Journal
We live in a world with objective good and evil. The gods pass their judgements on the living, and the requirements of a good life are spelled out for us as clear as the blue skies over the Inner Sea. The righteous are to be exalted. The malicious destroyed. The process is simple.
So any priest might tell you.
I believe that life is not -- cannot -- be this simple. The difference between sainthood and diabolic malevolence is not choosing one side and slaughtering the other. One does not become righteous through the deaths of a thousand monsters.
One becomes a monster.
This morning I met a child in Absalom. She was adorable; brown hair, eyes dark like mine, skin weathered from too many days spent enduring cold nights with nothing but a holed blanket. Her arms were thin, her cheeks hollow, and the way she eyed my morning bread broke my heart. So I gave it to her.
I did not do this because I was trying to repent for my failure as a paladin, nor for any other reason than this stranger, this living creature, was hungry. A child of her tender years should not spend their days begging for scraps.
I found her body later that afternoon, murdered for her meager ration. My kindness had killed her.
Am I closer to redemption now than I was? Or am I further away?
I sometimes wonder if Sarenrae is trying to reach me, to sit in my heart as she once did, but I am too afraid to check. I cannot allow myself to feel the things I used to feel, because I would do as I used to do, a path that lead me here.
The world is not a forgiving place for wide eyed idealists.
I have no specific regrets about my life as a Pathfinder, but I have so many doubts, second guesses, hesitations that I cannot go back.
The Diamond City calls for aid and I refuse the call, so the lodge sends other, inexperienced Pathfinders to fight in my stead. They are so young. They have not seen what I've seen. They've not stood toe to toe with the foulest spawns of the pits, stared into their souls and seen the darkness writhing within.
I will be far away from the siege. My ears will hear only the pleasant sound of lyre and harp, my lips tasting fine ale and roast mutton, my hands warmed by a roaring fire.
I will be comfortable as the Silver Crusade's blood splatters on the streets of the Diamond City. I will be unable to hear the screams as fiends carve flesh from bone. I will sit nursing my self-pity in whatever cheap inn I find myself at for the night as my fellows taste blood and mud and rot.
I will imagine it all well enough, though, and that thought is too much for me.
I cannot atone for my failures with a sword. No matter how many devils and demons I may slay, it is water to a drowning man. Atonement is no simple feat, no set of prayers and rituals and tithes to become whole again. Perhaps the darkness within cannot be quelled. Perhaps I am too far gone for forgiveness.
Perhaps the Diamond City is no worse a place to die than here.
-- Zaheeda
Diabolist imp questions
| Sasayaki | May 6, 2013, 07:02 pm |
Hey all,
For Pathfinder Society play, I was looking at creating a Diabolist (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/prestige-classes/other-paizo/c-d/diabolist ). I'm having a little trouble with the imp companion's statistics.
Some questions:
- Is the imp an animal companion for the purposes of feats, classes, alternate racial abilities such as a human's Eye for Talent, etc?
- Is the imp actually an outsider? The "Share Spells" section would imply that it is ("...normally affect creatures of the imp's type (outsider)"), but am I missing something?
- Does the imp companion have the damage reductions and fast healing of a normal imp?
- Does the imp have full BAB progression, due to its outsider nature, or partial BAB because of the animal companion table?
- Does the imp have the weapon proficiencies of an outsider?
Herolab, my usual go-to source, insists that it does have full BAB, does have the weapon proficiencies, but does not have the damage reduction and fast healing. Except for the BAB part, this seems to be legit.
Thoughts?
To Save A Dragon
| Sasayaki | Jan 5, 2013, 04:39 am |
Sanguinaxia the Bloodletter, the crimson dragon, watched her hatchling's blood continue to trickle onto the stone floor and knew, despairingly, that her son's heart grew weaker. The paladin's blade had done its work well.
She hated the paladins beyond all other mortal fleshbags. Infernal servants of the do-gooder gods, they could bless their weapons to slice through a dragon's considerable defences, bypassing their supernatural resistance to harm, their iron scales, the tough bone and sinew beneath. Even a humble blade of mundane manufacture became a terrible weapon in their hands.
They were the worst of monsters. Their hearts knew no fear, their swords sharp and their bodies strong.
Not strong enough, though. That paladin's crumpled body lay nearby, her bones broken by the mother dragon's incomprehensible rage. The intruder party had a wizard, too, and his burned corpse still smoldered nearby. All that was left of their archer was a pair of smoking boots.
A dragon's wrath was a mighty sight to behold, especially to murderous fleshbag intruders unwelcome in her lair. Although she desired vengeance, the crimson dragoness had not pursued the fleeing, broken remanence of the invaders when they had wisely chosen to withdraw. Her attention was drawn elsewhere.
The paladin had mortally wounded her son.
Red dragons were almost exclusively chaotic and extremely wicked, vain creatures without a care for those they considered less than themselves, which at most times was almost everyone. Sanguinaxia was no different, holding even other members of her species in open and abject disdain, but sometimes they had their uses.
Sometimes.
“Hold fast to courage, my son,” she said, leaning down to bump her nose against the broken form of the hatchling, exhaling a thick sooty cloud of ash over his body through her nose, trying to keep the fire of life stoked within him. “Salvation your way comes.”
On cue, a faint whine filled the air followed by a dull pop. A tall, lanky elven man with a permanent scowl affixed to his face and a pale, sickly gnome appeared in her lair. Sanguinaxia’s nostrils flared as their stench, sweat and oil and rancid perfumes washed down with the faint tinge of human, assaulted her nose.
Fleshlings, willingly invited to her lair. The thought rankled her.
“I am Vaarden, archwizard of the Pathfinder Society,” droned the elf, a lofty title Sanguinaxia was certain he had not earned. He spoke draconic, haughty and arrogant as though he considered himself a master of the tongue, although the accent--a subtle inflection imperceptible to non-dragons--implied it was the kobold variant. “I am responding to your summons.”
“You are late,” snarled the dragon, raising herself up to her full forty feet of height, towering over the two lessers who dared to defile her noble tongue with their butchery of her language. “I instructed you not to tarry.”
“These matters take time,” responded Vaarden, “a willing subject had to be located. The procedure is so unusual.”
“What do I pay you for, if not results?” Sanguinaxia snapped her head forward, baring her large, yellowed teeth, her rage barely kept in check as her catlike eyes studied the grey haired, trembling gnome who cowered by Vaarden’s side. “This is what you bring me? The gnome is sickly. Frail. Weak. He cannot be a bond for my son.”
“He was the only one who was willing.”
The dragoness’s heart clenched with anger, her blood pressure rising. Thick, ominous clouds pumped out of her nostrils and she inhaled, causing the elf’s long hair to billow towards her open maw. “What care have I if it is willing? My son’s life hangs in the balance, the wants and desires of fleshings are of no concern to me.”
“The spell requires the subject not resist,” said Vaarden, “and no amount of magic can compel them to complete the bond. Besides, this one is perfect.” A faint sneer crossed his elven features. “He seeks to escape the bleaching, believing the bond will sustain his mortal shell even as his passion for life crumbles around him.”
“The feyling wishes to drain my son’s life energy?” Sanguinaxia clenched her sharp teeth. “You thought I would agree to this?”
Vaarden held up both his hands. “It is not a parasitic entanglement, but a mutually beneficial one. Your son’s spirit is healthy but his body is broken. Sivian’s body is unmarked but his spirit fades. Together they can sustain each other.”
“Can they, now.” Sanguinaxia turned her terrible gaze upon the pale skinned gnome, who visibly retreated under her stern gaze. “Tell me, fleshling, how can you serve me?”
“Y-Your magnificence,” the gnome stuttered, “I have lived nearly two hundred years. I have wandered the world. I have seen all I fear I can see with these eyes, but those eyes dim. My hair whitens. My body aches. I feel Phrasma’s cold, uncaring breath on the nape of my neck, and I fear her judgement. If your son were to become my eidolon, I would escape that terrible fate.”
Sanguinaxia snorted derisively, twin smoke rings floating out of her nostrils and washing over the two humanoids. “Pharsma’s judgement is not so easily spurned. You are a fool if you believe whatever inept, bumbling, mortal magic this elf has offered you can outwit Death herself.”
Vaarden’s expression of offence was priceless to her but Sivian remained resolute.
“I can but try, mighty dragon. I have few options left.”
Sanguinaxia narrowed her eyes at the feyling, but a faint groan from her dying son washed away her hesitation. “Very well,” she intoned, wrinkling her nose and slowly stepping aside, “proceed with the binding.”
Vaarden stepped forward, unhooking a small pouch of reagents from his belt, but Sanguinaxia raised a colossal claw and pressed it to his chest. “Fail,” she warned, her tone as icy as her breath was hot, “and tales of your suffering shall be used to frighten Pathfinder Society recruits for a thousand years.”
Vaarden nodded his acceptance and Sanguinaxia slid back to give him room, her eyes never leaving the broken, bleeding form of her only surviving hatchling.
Pathfinder Quest submission
Typo
| Sasayaki | Dec 26, 2011, 07:54 am |
Probably been spotted, but... page 15, prehensile tail.
Prehensile Tail (2 RP): Prerequisites: None; Benefit :
Members of this race have a long, flexible tail that can
be used to carry objects. They cannot wield weapons with
their tail, but they cannot retrieve small stowed objects
carried on their persons as a swift action.
Review My Item
| Sasayaki | Dec 17, 2011, 10:00 pm |
1 person marked this as a favorite.
Heya all, first time poster. Apologies if I have this in the wrong section, but I'm soliciting comment and feedback on my wondrous item submission (as seen below).
Necklace of Eased Birth:
"Necklace of Eased Birth"
Aura slight necromancy; CL 3th
Slot wrists; Price 500gp; Weight —
Description
This teardrop shaped, polished red Carnelian stone is threaded through a simple chain of thin interlocking links and is intended to be worn around the neck. Amongst the various Halfling families, trinkets like these are treated as heirlooms and are used to ease the risk and pain of childbirth. When worn, the bracelet reduces any bleed damage taken by 1 point (except ability damage) and grants a +2 enhancement bonus on rolls to stabilize.
Construction Requirements
Craft Wondrous Item, stabilize; Cost 250 gp
I wanted to create a simple, practical item that would hopefully be something that we'd see in low-level characters inventories. It was intended to be an item that was from the "common" world; something that a minor noble or wealthy merchant may use, but which if re-purposed would have an obvious benefit to adventurers just beginning their careers.
Thoughts? Suggestions? Comments?
