The Fourth Soul - Houserules expanding the coadjutor The Infernal Id - Houserules for empowering an Infernal's po, potentially in place of the coadjutor
Demonic Anchors - Rules for sustaining demons in Creation in a way which limits the sheer number of demons a sorcerer can sustain.
Spirit-Shackles - Another Binding Method Sorcerous Ascension - On laughing maniacally as you shed your petty mortality Sorcerous Pacts - Because any sorcery system that lacks the capacity for you to damn yourself for power isn't doing its job
The Unholy Archive of the HamSandLich (Homebrew Hub) Long ago, in recent time, that was also several separate instances, a lich of sand and ham sat in his tome-filled writing manse and committed his most assuredly mad brain ravings to the realm of binary and forums. The products of his twisted imagination lie here, for the convenience of the sane, in this living document of the unliving's work.
Note: works marked deprecated are those which I consider no longer up to my personal standards for my Creation's internal canon. Any homebrews I create afterwards will no longer be consistent with these works, though they very well may salvage some ideas from them. However, to paraphrase the late and great Greg Stafford, Your Creation May Vary
Within hell, dancing lights are seen, floating and bobbing on unseen tides and waves. That is the Agyu. Spheres of Malfean crystal, with flickering green flames within them, glowing with a green light. A single symbol is on them, and the Agyu points these at things they examine, like the pupil of an eye, its flickering inner flame casting strange shadows. They are mostly harmless, flitting about Malfeas's layers in great swarms, avoiding the predators and acids of kimberry, escaping the darkness of the Ebon Dragon. But of course, all in Malfeas earn their keep. And the Agyu earn theirs, by being weapons.
The Agyu were made by an ancient warlord of Hell. Seeing that his demons lacked firepower, he devised the Agyu to act as installable weapons powered by an imitation of Ligier's power. The Agyu can meld themselves into a demons' flesh, their bodies warping into elsewhere so only their runic pupil sticks out from the surface of the demons' body. Only one Agyu can share a host at a time. Any more, and the host begins to suffer from burns, similar to green sun wasting, as the power of the Agyu seeps into them.
Each Agyu contains a great inferno, a pale imitation of the power of the Green Sun. And though relatively weak, it is still a force to be reckoned with. They can release this power in great exhalations, blasting apart fortress walls in a blast of green light, or destroying armies by releasing predatory gouts of green flame, that seek out the closest living thing to set alight and are immune to water. A sorcerer using an Agyu and backed by other spells can singlehandedly take on entire armies. So, too, has the Agyu gained notoriety when used by Yozi cults.
Of course, such power comes at a price. The Agyu can only swivel by a minimal amount when bonded, and so the host must aim for them. And the power of the Agyu is such that it must be expended each day, or else the essence build-up will injure the host.*
*Each day, the host rolls Stamina + Resistance against difficulty 1. Failure leads to a single lethal health level of damage. Each day, the difficulty increases, as does the damage. Until the host either dies, or the Agyu is fired. Then the difficulty and damage is reset.
Fullankar, the textbook wasps.
Demon of the First Circle
Progeny of the Obsessive Scholar
The Obsessive Scholar is a patron of the arts and of knowledge, with a grand wish to spread understanding and enlightenment throughout Malfeas, the Underworld, Creation, and Heaven itself. Each beggar a poet. Each street urchin a weapons grandmaster. Each street sweeper an artist. Sadly, in these fallen times, most do not have the time nor the inclination to study his books, no matter how well-written or how comprehensive. Why read about the vagaries of the stars, when one is wondering where to find his next meal? Why read about the Treatises of Ahnschlus, when one is trying to till the field for the next harvest? And so, the Obsessive Scholar, with some hesitation, made the decision for them. He made the Fullankar.
The Fullankar, in their dormant form, appear as any form of information recording, and acts as a comprehensive guide and work on a single subject, whether it is melee, war, or medicine. Whether in first-age crystal tablet, paperback book, or silken scroll. In this form, they are near-indistinguishable from other, more mundane books. Using the Fullankar in this form allows one to train themselves up as if they were studying under a tutor, and reduce training times to a third. The knowledge and words themselves slotting themselves into a reader's mind, the pictures, inscriptions, and diagrams, seemingly coming alive on the page itself, the reader's body subconsciously twitching as the book describes how one swings a sword or how to carry out a surgical procedure.
In the other form, the book itself unfurls. Transforming into a Fullankar's full form. It is the size of a dog. A stinger, composed out of punctuation. Wings, made from pictures. Feet, made from adjectives. A shell composed out of nouns. Flickering in and out of existence with compound eyes made from verbs, the Fullankar has a stinger composed out of prepositions, dripping with venom. It is the venom that is key to its abilities. When the Fullankar stings, there is no pain. And then, enlightenment.
The venom of the Fullankar is composed out of liquified and materialized knowledge, an exact copy of the knowledge composed in its other form. It is not harsh. Not much worse than a bee sting. As the poison courses through one's veins, the information within can be accessed by the mind of the victim, allowing it to act as if it had been trained in it all his or her life. A peasant farmer can become a melee fighter that surpasses all but the greatest of mortals, specializing in the use of hoes. An untrained beggar can become the greatest mortal surgeon in the entire region. An newbie brat can become a general that wins against all but the greatest of forces arrayed against him***.
This comes with a price, though. It being poison, and the Obsessive Scholar not realizing the complications caused due to himself being a second circle demon, the poison itself hinders the victim, or beneficiary, of the Fullankar. A swordsman will find his tongue numb, his speech slurred. A surgeon would find that, although his fingers are now nimble and precise, his feet have become sluggish, forcing him to use a cane. A great general's skin now produces a horrible smell, forcing all but the bravest of courtesans to flee from him. *
And it being poison, the Fullankar's toxin does damage to the body, costing one lethal health level per week. After several weeks**, the poison runs its course, and is purged by the mortal's native defenses, and disappears. And with it, goes the knowledge and puissance it grants.****
*Never will the penalty of using the poison of a Fullankar ever negate the gifts of its venom.
** A month
*** Increased dots, plus specialty. War 5 with a specialty against being outnumbered is a hell of a thing
**** I think I should put a limit on how many times one can get stung by a Fullankar before they collapse into a puddle of nouns.
Szo, the word hunters
The ruffle in the pages. The ink, glistening. The words, seemingly shifting before your eyes. Names you do not know, occuring in the background and retelling of events. Lies and secrets, hidden meanings, all revealed beneath purpled light. When that happens, skilled sages call for demon-hunters, for a Szo has been let loose upon the pages.
A Szo has barely any physical form, and in its default state, has none at all. Being a descendant of Elloge, they are nothing more than a smattering of words. A narrative, a character, given puissance and thought by demonic power. They start out as common names, that could be found in any direction or in any town, and then enter into books, ledgers, tomes, storybooks, and documents. Entering their narratives, making a nest in between the lines and paragraphs. A history retelling of the battle of blackwater, for example, will be altered to include the off-hand account of a standard bearer of a common name. A report on a guild meeting, will include a mention of a new aide of the merchant prince helping to take notes. Most of these insertions are harmless. A manifestation of Elloge's desire to be part of every story.
That changes when they are summoned by sorcerers. For in being part of the narrative, they now can affect it. A brave commander who charged forward and broke the enemy's lines, can have the historical event changed for him to become a cowardly deserter. Brave champions who held off the enemy while their companions retreated can have their names altered to become someone the sorcerer favours. A book on herbology, with a extra mentions of their discoverer, can have names alterd or switched around, so any physician using them will use poison instead of a cure. Sowing chaos and disruption wherever they go, warping historical records and precious stores of knowledge. Worse in this age of sorrows, where books and tomes that are of any importance are rare and precious.
Szo have enmity with the Maiden of Endings, fearing the end of their narratives and their stories. When shone with purple light, they scream in pain and terror, shifting and altering. There, their power fades, and the original text appears, appearing bright white while the black words of the now-corrupted text squirm in pain. Prolonged exposure and exposure to incense will lead to the Szo leaving the book entirely, and this is where their second usage comes off. A Szo's physical form is a shifting one of dazzling adjectives and nouns, capable of forming any mortal weapon out of its shifting body. Its strength is not much greater than that of a mortal warrior, but the advantage obtained by sorcerers by having the words of a book leap out and attempt to murder their rivals is one that cannot be discounted.
In the modern age, the Szo have adapted, shifting and altering their own narratives and charms to match this new world. Now they are lines of code, in computers. Now, they are background subroutines within websites and web crawlers. Now they travel through cables and the air, leaping through computers and laptops, corrupting data, introducing errors within governmental and law enforcement records, walking through the darknet to introduce themselves as anonymous persons, trading information and favours. Now they leap through computer screens to slay those who seek to obstruct their masters.
Arynek, the chittering shadows
No one really knows who made them. Perhaps they were a curse, made for sport by a bored Deva in the time before. Perhaps a weapon made to destroy the source of Exaltations. Perhaps, a Yozi made them, to punish and torment the demons. It does not matter.
It all starts the same. A demon, wandering within the dark corridoors of Malfeas, hears a chattering sound. It starts. It turns around. It looks about. And then, it lights a torch, hoping to use the light to defend itself from whatever monster lurking within the depths. That is its worst and last mistake. The torchlight reveals flickering shadows... and one of them leaps forward, ten horribly elongated fingers reaching out towards the demon. The demon flees, running through catacombs and deserted corridoors, hiding, running, holding the torch aloft, attempting to flee the horrible abomination. It does not matter. The demon pauses for breathe, panting in exhuastion... and then screams as one of the fingers finally touch him.
The Arnyek are a race of shadow monsters, looking like horribly distorted shadows of human beings. Fingers reaching down to their legs. No head, nor facial features, but a pair of smoldering eyes in the upper section of its chest. The Arnyek does not exist. Not truly. They are absences of light, and so in places where no light exists they can not harm anyone. It is this reason that they seek out places without light, and make their customary chattering sound, hoping to instigate the lighting of fires and lamps. If there is already a lamp, then..... well, the Arnyek can always be counted on to be opportunistic.
The Arnyek's touch is rotting and twisted. The moment it touches anybody, it induces a crippling effect, turning the body into a frozen, immobile, pain-wracked husk. The person is left immobile for five days, until he finally expires. This always creates a hungry ghost, searching for vengeance against something that has probably long since departed.
Lazado, the Rebellious Rabble Rousers
The Lazado have many forms. Perhaps he has the form of a man, wearing a trenchcoat, smoke billowing about his face. Perhaps a man, dressed all in green, with a feathered cap.*** Perhaps a thief in the night, smirking and grinning, with a hat he tips to the ladies. No matter. The Lazado is a rebel and destroyer of authority. Created by some 3rd Circle as a slight against the priests of Cecylene, the Lazado are rebels, malcontents, and generally, anarchists against all forms of authority. Whether to kick out all the teachers in a school and let the children run wild, or to overthrow the Kings and distribute the treasury to the rabble outside. Often, he causes trouble for the princes of hell, inciting serfs to rebellion. Were he to be caught by Cecylene, his demise would be slow and painful. Which is why every single Lazado thirsts to enter the blue skies and clean air of Creation, to wrack havoc.
Let us say, a ordinary kingdom within the Threshold. The king is... mostly just. A few things which made his subjects grumble and the monks titter. Heavy taxes, like normal. Cruel and greedy nobles. Squalor and ghettoes. There, the Lazado appears. He gathers a posse of men, all discontented like himself, angry and unhappy. Perhaps they had nothing to do, or the king's policies cost them their job. He calls them some pretentious name, and goes about wrecking havoc. Burning down government buildings. Waylaying tax collectors. Breaking into the houses of the rich princes and barons, stealing their treasures and families, then distributing it to the poor.
The law enforcement tries to catch him, but they fail. They attack once, slaying dozens of soldiers, then retreating into forests and bushes, escaping from them. Nightwatchers chase after them, only to be delayed as sympathetic citizens help hide them or help ward them off. Door to door searches are made, while they hid in the cellars of their supporters.
He makes appearances into market squares and public streets, making grand speeches about tyranny and freedom and all that sort.
At first, people look at him and nod in agreement. It was unfair that taxes had been raised so high. Then, as nods become shouts of agreement, the speeches change. It changes, shifting and altering, until the words bear little resemblance to reality. The king has raised taxes. The king has levied fines. The king has taken your daughter and wife for his harem, although they are standing right next to you. The king has slain your dog, although it died of sickness 2 weeks ago. The king murdered your family for speaking a word against him, though you go home to them. The king does not worship the gods, although he just visited the temple of the unconquered sun a month ago. The king has taken thousands of people for sacrifice to the Yozis, despite no such thing happening. Again and again, until the Lazado can shout about how the King has stolen the sun and darkened the world and thus must be slain for light to reenter the world, and the crowd can shout in thunderous agreement, all while sweating beneath the noonday sun.
Then the crowd storms the battlements and the fortress. Knights and elite commanders are cut down by demonically blessed arrows, shot by warriors enhanced by unholy magic, burying into throats and eyes, leaving the soldiers defenseless. All is burned. Nobles, princesses, barons, elders, all those of temporal power and high office, dragged into the streets to be murdered gruesomely. Priceless objects and artifacts, money stored within the treasury, anything of value, is taken and distributed amongst the people and the poor.* Courtrooms and lawhouses are torn down, for the people will not obey the laws of tyrants, but their own.** Then it gets worse and worse. Next are the leaders of the rebellion, for do they not send men to die for their cause? Then the city elders. For do they not tyrannize others, based on seniority? Until at last, children murder their parents in their sleep for telling them to go to bed, and silence falls.
Whether or not the people see through this spell, the Lazado will nod his head, turn about, and skip off merrily, singing a jaunty tune, towards another kingdom or city-state.
Motivation: To tear down all governing authority, no matter how small
Abilities:
Archery 5 (+3 surprise), Melee 4 (+3 against armour), Social 5 (+3 for attacking authority), Presence 2 (+3 for crowds), Larceny 4 (+2 for breaking and entering)Bureaucracy 1 (+1 for insurgencies), Stealth 4 (+3 amongst others), Craft 3 (+3 for improvised weapons), Dodge 4, Ride 2, Sail 2, Linguistics 2, War 5 (+3 small unit tactics), Occult 1 (+3 demon beckoning), Investigation 2 (+1 for finding malcontents, +2 for finding weaknesses in authority), Resistance 3, Medicine 1 (+2 for poor conditions), Lore 1, Performance 2 (+2 in charming ladies +1 for the common people
Quick charms:
I'm a man of da people! - No matter where and when, the Lazado will appear as a perfectly normal citizen and native. Were he to walk down the street, no one will give him a second glance
One of us! One of us! - Whenever he speaks, the mortal feels as if the Lazado not only has suffered as they have suffered, and knows how they feel, they find their own hearts resonating with him. Any mortal of no significant station or political office, has an external penalty equal to the Lazado's (Essence - 1) to himself whenever trying to resist his rhetoric or lies.
Chanting of the men - Singing a jaunty song together, the Lazado and his victims sing together, and in so bind their essences ever closer, letting him impart some of their power. This lets the Lazado enhance his elite guard, granting them an advantage against ordinary mortal soldiers****
Down with the state! - The Lazado makes a case against authority, either pointing out their flaws, exaggerating their crimes and failures, or outright inventing them. Even if the king were to be a selfless saint who works flawlessly, day in and day out for the people, they will still be turned against him, eventually. This charm can inflame feelings, compell people, or even outright rewrite their memories.
*Yes, this is a reference
**In other words, anarchy
***Another reference
****Not sure how powerful this should be.
Szonyeg, the invisible carpets
Progeny of the Great White Hunter
Demon of the First circle
The demon stands in his room, confused. His friends were here several hours ago, but now no longer. He is alone. Searching about with its four eyes, it sees nothing. Yet, it hears it. A faint rustling. A faint shiver. A faint sound, of cloth and movement. Then, his area of vision blurs and darkens. He looks up, eyes wide open in horror. Too late. The Szonyeg has caught him in his grasp, and with a sick crack, broke his bones, and digested him.
The Szonyeg, is invisible to mortal eyes and weak spirits. But if it were to be seen with one with enough clarity of perception, it would appear as a strange, coloured carpet, albeit one that closely mimics the colour of the surface it is on. Others, are not so lucky. The Szonyeg is an ambush predator. Days and days pass, and it lays there, either curled up or laying flat on the floor. Its body is composed of immensely muscular fibers, and it is flat and spread out, like a sheet. One side of the Szonyeg is composed out of a shape and colour-shifting surface, allowing it to perfectly reproduce any image or background. This is the surface exposed to the world, allowing the demon to hide nearly anywhere in Malfeas. The other side contains a multitude of tiny mouths, grasping and tearing hooks, extendable poisonous spines, and pores that can secrete deadly acid. It lays in wait, for days, until some unlucky prey stumbles upon it.
Then, it leaps, and enfolds the prey, muffling its screams with its charms, muscular body grappling, crushing, and squeezing it. Microscopic hooks tearing apart skin and sinew. Spines, injecting it with neurotoxic and spiritoxic venom. Pores, weeping acid, softening the body for consumption. The Szonyeg then wraps itself around its prey to prevent spillage of ichor and viscera, and using shuffling, peristaltic motions, moves to the corner of the room***. Moments later, its friends burst through the doors, hearing a thud. But could only scratch their heads and shake their heads as they beheld an empty room, and close the door behind them, not realizing that if they had simply extended a foot, they would have touched their friends corpse, and the beast that ate him.
Sorcerers summon these monsters for a variety of reasons. Sometimes, to dispose of corpses. Sometimes, to terrorize a mortal fortress or household. Many are the legends within the threshold, that speak of inhabitants of a house that offended a sorcerer disappearing one by one, with strange, inviting whispers drifting through the walls, of screams and thuds which when investigated reveal nothing. Or of a group of travellers that enter a dusty, abandoned house, only to wake up and find one of their compatriots missing. Or, if the sorcerer is particularly brave, he can put the Szonyeg on top of himself, and use it like a cloak, using the shimmering, colour-shifting skin to mask his approach.
Fast charms:
Invisibility - The surface of the Szonyeg shifts to whatever is behind it, making it appear just like it. Mortal eyes are completely deceived, with no chance of detecting it. Those with essence channeling, receive a penalty equivalent to the Szonyeg's essence.
No smell, no sound - The Szonyeg shifts its stealth to other factors of its body... or its wearer. This muffles any sound or smell that could give its position away. The charm is powerful enough to muffle loud screams, the crunch of bones, and the stench of rotting meat.
Concept: Ok, I'm thinking of having the Szonyeg be used as a form of deadly ambush predator, like a horror movie monster. Not truly... sentient. I mean, you can talk to it, and it can understand you. Its also not very interested in much things beyond eating and catching. They crush bodies and pulp bones beneath their muscular masses. And get this, can drink memories. Not anything specific, mind you. They suck at that. But they definitely know enough to know how their friends look like. Which one likes to be alone. How they are related to the victim. So they imitate their newest prey's voice, and call out to their fathers or mothers, calling for help, dragging more people into its maw.
The city of health
There was once a city in the east, named Malkaros. Unremarkable, save for the contents of its underground. It took lumber from the forest. It fished from the river. it mined ores from the local hills.
One day, a sorcerer came, seeking an artifact of great power. The king, seeking favour, helped the sorcerer find it, and gave him several books on medicine and herbology. So grateful was the sorcerer, that he gave several boons to the city.
The first, was a house with several bound spirits of health and healing. Strange wasp-like creatures that could burrow through flesh and consume putrescence. Beautiful women with surgical scars, whose hands could transform into surgery tools and transplant organs like a man transplants cloth.
The second, was a field where medical herbs from every direction could be found. from Northern Lillies to Southern Fire-rash. No matter the needs of the plant, to needing to be planted on freshly fallen snow to being watered by human blood, they grew well in the soil. As payment for the field's blessings, a festival was conducted each season, one for each element. Failure to carry out festival will cause the plants associated with the Season's element to wither. For example, failure to conduct a festival in the Season of air would cause plants from the North to catch aflame and burn to ash. **
The third, was a shrine of healing amidst a garden filled with winding paths and alcoves. Filled with sweetness and smells, the garden is a place for solitude and healing. Those within, are blessed with added strength and health, their aching wounds knitting back, old scars fading away*. The shrine was built on a confluence of leylines, and when built the sorcerer refused to let other see it.
The fourth, is a tree of limbs, which could be transplanted by the spirits of the first. As payment, the tree requires a blood sacrifice, once a week. ***
As payment for all this, the sorcerer asked 3 requests. First, is to let anyone who requests healing in, and let him be healed. Whether he needs to pay, whether via service or favour, is up to the ruler. Second, is to never allow slavery within the city's walls. Third, is to freely teach medical techniques he had brought in.
The city is now famous amongst its territories, being a site of great pilgrimage for everyone around them. Ranging from merchant prices who have caught the pox, courtesans with facial scars they wish to remove, to old warriors who wish to fight again. The city takes them all in, with various payments, ranging from service, money, or treasures. Some pay in bolts of silk. Other fight for the city. Others, serve the king.
The city boasts an immense university, built within the past ten years. With tutelage from doctors visiting the bound spirits, many medical techniques have been created, used to deal with various issued from facial defects to transplanting skin. Far less efficacious when done by mortal doctors, but still a step up from what was done before.
The ban on slavery still exists. No slaves are allowed within the city, and those who enter are freed, leading it to become a place for escaped slaves, where supernatural doctors remove their tattoos and brands, marking them as free men. And out in the mines, out of the sight of the people, slaves mine the iron and silver ores of the hills.
The guild looks upon the place with greed. The city gains a hefty income from the services of its doctors and gardens. And gets even more, from the sale of its medical herbs. Herbs which once could only be found in the far north or necessitated immensely dangerous journeys, could be found within the city. And so men pay fortunes to obtain them, ranging from famed mortal doctors to even the odd dragonblooded outcaste. Elements within the guild have begun to move, seeking to seize the fields and the spirits, so they can simply cut out the middlemen. They are opposed by the Chancellor and the King, who seek to play the guild, neighbouring kingdoms and others against each other to keep their independence and prevent them from falling into outsider hands
Within the city, there is strife. Some rich men chafe against the ban against slavery. Their associates complain to them about prized slaves escaping within the city itself. There are arguments and debates on what to do with the sorcerer's edicts. Some say they are the wishes of a man long-dead, and should simply be ignored. Some say that the freeing of slaves within the city is too limited, and that they should post guards and ban slave-traders from travelling through their city. Some say that the fees for medical service should be far higher, for they have a monopoly on the bound building filled with healing spirits. And some say that they should heal for free, allowing anyone to walk in for healing.
Neighbouring cities eye the city, seeing its riches and influence as somewhat unfair. Invading the city is out of the question, as it risks destroying what they want. Instead, assassins, saboteurs, and factions within the government itself are funded and supported, seeking to undermine the present rules and install puppets that would let them dictate who and what gets to enter.
*heal like an exalt. Major project
** Celestial ambition 1/2, with lowered finesse requiring the festivals.
*** Grabbed from a fair folk, and transplanted within Creation.
a/n: I made this, when I was bored. So something for the players to enter, whether for mortals seeking healing or maybe someone looking for medical herbs for artifacts. The sorcerer can be either a mortal, dragonblooded, lunar, or even a solar exalted. Or heck, an exigent of the god of healing, seeking artifacts for his master. Up to you. Or even a place to enter, for a Dawn Caste whose friend was grievously injured.
Wyldstone: A concentrated piece of the wyld's transformative properties, encased within a gemstone and then kept stabilized by immense magic. The wyld's transformative properties are useful to a sorcerer seeking to enact change and alteration. Encased in the stone the magic is weakened, but it is still useful for inflicting mutations. The sorcerer holding this has a bonus to granting mutations or alterations to any single living creature.
Sorcerer's workshop: Arranging furniture and tools and paintings such that the flow of chi and essence brings harmony and construction, the sorcerer's own workings are enhanced. Within the workshop, all rolls to sorcerous workings gains a bonus. This applies only within the workshop itself. Creating a self-writing pen is applicable. Blessing a field, is not.
Aesthetic enforcement: Perhaps a broken piece off Autochthon's clockwork body. Maybe a piece of wood from an exploded first age manse. Artifacts and ingredients, always useful for sorcery. Using their power to catalyse the workings. This comes with a price. An ingredient aspected off Autobot means that your new source of water for the desert village comes in the form of a clockwork contraption, where a man must turn a crank to pump out water. One aspected to Wood, will have an automaton be made of leaves and vines and nothing else.
The library: A great library, not a petty one like those in the house of a noble but a great repositery of knowledge. Of whatever kind. What the library holds, affects what the working will be like.
Vas, the men of iron
Iron is rarely found pure. Men dig it out, light fires, and burn away impurities to get the metal out of ore. The important word, is 'rarely'. A confluence of factors may work. Iron ore, exposed to the surface and placed amidst a forest fire sparked by lightning. A streak of ore, exposed to a lava pocket or a seam of burning coal, or set to heat created by burning underground gas. The ore, placed under heat and pressure, melting and purifying into the pure metal. Sometimes, this results in pure blocks of metal which geomancers prize for their elemental purity. Sometimes, this results in Vas, men of iron and steel.
In the image of men, but taller and bulkier, the men of iron have smooth outer skin, and take the colour of the metal they were born from. They have control over their metallic bodies, being able to reshape, heat, or even use it to absorb other metals and substances, transforming themselves from raw iron plate to stronger and more durable alloys. Blunt and straightforward, they tell few lies and tend to not mince words.
Many Vas find work as mercenaries, their ability to create their own weapons and their immensely durable bodies making them horrendously dangerous fighers. Others, find work working in smithies and great foundries, their innate understanding of metal, resistance to heat and ability to extrude high quality alloys making them prized companions for smithies and artificiers. Lacking taste buds and an inability to taste the pleasures of the flesh, they are often paid in beautiful music, stories, or good metal.
Attributes: Intelligence 3, Perception 3, Wits 3, Appearance 2, Charisma 1, Manipulation 1, Stamina 4, Strength 5, Dexterity 4
Abilities: Craft 3 (+3 to any metalworking), Melee 4 (+2 to own limb weapons), Lore 1 (+3 for ore and metal deposits, +1 for geomancy), Occult 2 (+2 for enchantment of metal weapons, +1 for alchemy involving metals), Social 2
Essence: 3
Soak: 9L/ 9B
Hardness: 5L/ 5B
Merits
*iron fist - can parry attacks barehanded and inflict lethal damage
**iron kettle body - immune to poisons, cold, and anything that would kill a fleshy human but leave iron and steel alone
***Metallic resistance - iron and steel weapons wielded by mortal weapons have to roll their strength and melee against difficulty 3, or the Vas will be left unharmed and simply absorb the weapon
Metallic elemental manipulation: The vas can manipulate metal he is in contact with, rolling craft and dexterity to craft the metal instantaneously Metal production: The Vas can produce any metal he has either perceived, or had been in contact with, no matter the alloy, as long as it has a strong link to iron. 1m can produce 10 pounds of iron, or 5 pounds of steel, or a pound of gold* Metallic absorption: Vas can link their bodies to metal, making them part of themselves. This can be in the form of changing their features by putting on a metal helmet, putting spikes on their shoulders, or adding a suit of superheavy plate to themselves to turn them into terrors on the battlefield** Innate steel understanding: Upon perceiving a metal, the Vas can know about it, ranging from its properties, its method of manufacture, or structural weak points within a steel girder.
*I don't think that this is very appopriate, but I'm still thinking of metallic production?
**Elementals are deadly, but I'm not sure if this is way too overpowered.
The Kersetz, women-of-vines
The forests, grasslands, and various gardens of creation need tending. Not just from gods, who monitor and report back to heaven, but also people to do the grunt work. Who cuts away weeds, who grew were there should not be? Who grows a forest, because a battle between two solars have burned the previous one down? Who makes a desolate land fertile, where a Infernal of Cecylene has turn it into a Desolate Desert?
Being composed out of plant matter, who walk on two feet like normal men. Limbs and bodies of twisting vines and branches. Eyes made of flowers. Ears, made of leaves. Nails and teeth, made of wood. Beautiful, smooth skin, like that of smooth leaves and fruit, for faces. The Kersetz themselves are cloaked in green coloured robes like that of the lush forests. Their purpose, is to manipulate plant life to be more in line with heaven. Silent, dutiful, and hardworking, they work all day with no complaint, carring out what is asked of them. Gentle and compassionate, they are perfectly willing to help a farmer whose crop has been ruined by plague, or help grow medicinal plants for the needy. But threaten the gardens and forests they have been charged to protect, and the shears they use to prune errant branches and trailing vines will be used to cut short their lives, defending their charges like a mother defends her children.
Kersetz are often summoned or beckoned by thaumaturges, sorcerers, and others to tend to their gardens, forests, or crops. Their powers enabling rare and difficult herbs to be grown easily, and their innate understanding of herbology and plants makes them a veritable goldmine for any thaumaturge seeking ingredients for alchemy or a doctor searching for new medicines to make. Sometimes, they can be seen in the aftermath of great battles between the supernatural, bringing life to grasslands blighted by yozi venom or regrowing forests slain by abyssal essence.
A/n: Frack it, you guys stat it up. I'm too tired for this.
A thing I thought up. Frankly, I'm not sure whether its thaumaturgy, artifice, sorcerous workings, or just plain as magic. But, its a thing.
Fortune favors the bold. Treasures are found in the most dangerous of places. Such story tropes exist in many cultures, and with reason
Within the borders of Creation, Wyld-tides stay, trapped in a place of stability, a part of the outer chaos lingering within Creation. Within, are monsters, beasts, Rakshasa, and of course, treasures and exotic ingredients, that many a thauaturge, artificier, or sorcerer will pay in silver and gold for. Within old, green-glowing ruins of the shogunate, old treasures may be found, waiting to be sold to Dragonblooded Dynasts. In darkened, shadowlands, covered by mad ghosts, there may be ancient texts or artifacts from long-dead kingdoms.
Of course, what happens is that most people searching for this die. They lose their way, they get torn apart by monsters, or the deadly environment does them in. In reaction, people build their own tools to survive. They bring more. They bring guards. And they build environment suits.
Exemplary-Suit-of-Survival
The suit is a full-body suit with a bubble in the front, composed out of either glass or crystal. Made by scavenger-lords and work crews of treasure hunters, the suit is reinforced and armoured with thick leather and blessed wood, making it protective for the person wearing it (4 Bashing and Lethal soak). Over the top, it is customary to coat it with gold to gain protection against the creatures of darkness. Sadly, gold is expensive and other, lesser alloys are used, with a corresponding lessening in protection. By tradition they are always painted in a shade of yellow or gold, to better symbolize the protection of the sun.
The suit itself covers the person from head to toe, and a mild enchantment and advanced artifice makes it airtight, letting the wearer enter poisonous locations or underwater. An alchemical mixture placed in a bag of cloth within the helmet, with a beckoned air elemental, helps continuously refresh the air for 4 hours. The alchemical is bribed with the consumption of the alchemical mixture, it finding the mixture to be delicious. Upon finishing eating the mixture, it leaves, leaving the explorer to either open up his air supply to the outside, or asphyxiate.
Equipment:
Sticks of light (Resources 3)
A crystal vial of extract from the glow-sacs of a deep sea creature, as well as flecks of orichalcum. When shaken vigorously, the mixture glows, bathing the explorer and his surroundings in a yellowish light. The light works as a torch, and lasts for 5 hours before snuffing out. Ghosts and demons exposed to the light have a 2 die debuff on all their presence in their actions.
Ward of Safe travel (Resources 2)
A ward composed of comfrey tree and an insignia of the maiden of journeys. The ward grants a 2-die bonus on any and all attempts to navigate a dangerous place, like abandoned ruins or a long dead city. It works only for finding safe passage and navigation, and gives no protection to the dangers such as falling rocks or hungry ghosts.
Salt wand (Resources 2)
A stick or staff with rock salt embedded onto it. The staff itself is heavy, capable of giving heavy injuries, while the salt within helps drive away ghosts who are trying to chase away the explorer from the ruins he is exploring and treasures he is seeking. In water-explorers, who dive into long-drowned cities and tombs in search for treasure, the salt is contained inside the staff itself, to avoid being dissolved by the water.
