General Exalted Thread
- Location
- my house
Haven't run them yet but my plan is basically just to run then as a series of buffs with a few custom charms
Like extra health levels/soak, enhanced strength and then like rocket boosters or flamethrower arms or whatever depending on the model.
Oh, and there's no minimum damage you have to beat the soak
Might write one up
- Location
- Pittsburgh, PA
Well, here we go.
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Aptocimexi, the Utility Crabs
Demon of the First Circle
Progeny of an Unknown Creator
One thousand, six hundred, and thirty-six individual bones. Twelve separate types of internal body fluid. Twenty-seven major organs, along with a twenty-eighth distributed throughout the interior of the carapace, which generates replacement organs and bones as needed. Nine limbs for motion, nine to grasp and manipulate objects, four that can be modified to serve a number of specialized purposes, five to hold sensory organs, and nine gelatinous apertures through which new appendages may be extruded for attachment to the carapace.
The aptocimex is a marvel of redundant, utilitarian design, capable of surviving wounds that would kill any of their peers - and they must be, for their flesh, bone, muscles, and fluids exist solely to be extracted and turned to whatever purpose their owners desire. Their modular anatomy allows for easy excision, expulsion and modification of its individual components, their nine-lobed brains crafted to excel at finding ways to recombine harvested bits of themselves into tools for almost any task. One needs only to ask and the aptocimex will eagerly strip its own carapace and trim the pieces to form a sturdy breastplate held together by precision spurts of hepatic adhesive, or shear its limbs away and lashs them together with nerve lengths pulled from the stumps to make a fetching stool. Their blood evaporates quickly when exposed to air, preventing their labors from making an unseemly mess and perfuming their handiwork with comforting scents of sandalwood and warm human skin.
Aptocimexi go about their duties with unsettling cheer, assiduously hiding the pain they suffer for their betters' enrichment, concerned only with ensuring the output is as pleasing to its beneficiary as possible. Their creator's diligence in impressing this mindset upon their forefathers is quite evident from the breed's reputation as supremely reliable serfs, bootlicks, and renewable food sources (although the latter purpose is quite disquieting and uncomfortable for utility crabs to even contemplate, and one of the few acts that can elicit reluctance, uneasiness, or disgust from them.)
Summoning (Obscurity 1/3): A utility crab is perfect for anyone in need of a demon that can quickly produce highly functional (if merely mortal-quality) goods and tools for a variety of purposes. Amateur infernalists favor them for their obedient and helpful natures, making it unnecessary to bind the demon so long as it is provided with praise and token shows of gratitude for its services. Alas, this same eagerness to serve makes them almost pathetically insecure - which can become quite annoying, as the beasts fret over what miniscule imperfection in its tissues caused their dear, wonderful, thoughtful owner to clothe himself in Eastern silks, rather than wear robes of its rendered lung-fibers and woven sinews. Should they witness their current master seek out another to provide them with new goods or raw materials, they immediately gain a point of Limit.
When a craftsman is threatened with loss of life or limb should he fail to complete a project before the next dawn, but lacks the tools or materials with which to do so, an aptocimex will often scuttle out of Hell and into his workspace, offering its own tissues in place of whatever the unfortunate mortal has need of.
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Aptocimexi, the Utility Crabs
Demon of the First Circle
Progeny of an Unknown Creator
One thousand, six hundred, and thirty-six individual bones. Twelve separate types of internal body fluid. Twenty-seven major organs, along with a twenty-eighth distributed throughout the interior of the carapace, which generates replacement organs and bones as needed. Nine limbs for motion, nine to grasp and manipulate objects, four that can be modified to serve a number of specialized purposes, five to hold sensory organs, and nine gelatinous apertures through which new appendages may be extruded for attachment to the carapace.
The aptocimex is a marvel of redundant, utilitarian design, capable of surviving wounds that would kill any of their peers - and they must be, for their flesh, bone, muscles, and fluids exist solely to be extracted and turned to whatever purpose their owners desire. Their modular anatomy allows for easy excision, expulsion and modification of its individual components, their nine-lobed brains crafted to excel at finding ways to recombine harvested bits of themselves into tools for almost any task. One needs only to ask and the aptocimex will eagerly strip its own carapace and trim the pieces to form a sturdy breastplate held together by precision spurts of hepatic adhesive, or shear its limbs away and lashs them together with nerve lengths pulled from the stumps to make a fetching stool. Their blood evaporates quickly when exposed to air, preventing their labors from making an unseemly mess and perfuming their handiwork with comforting scents of sandalwood and warm human skin.
Aptocimexi go about their duties with unsettling cheer, assiduously hiding the pain they suffer for their betters' enrichment, concerned only with ensuring the output is as pleasing to its beneficiary as possible. Their creator's diligence in impressing this mindset upon their forefathers is quite evident from the breed's reputation as supremely reliable serfs, bootlicks, and renewable food sources (although the latter purpose is quite disquieting and uncomfortable for utility crabs to even contemplate, and one of the few acts that can elicit reluctance, uneasiness, or disgust from them.)
Summoning (Obscurity 1/3): A utility crab is perfect for anyone in need of a demon that can quickly produce highly functional (if merely mortal-quality) goods and tools for a variety of purposes. Amateur infernalists favor them for their obedient and helpful natures, making it unnecessary to bind the demon so long as it is provided with praise and token shows of gratitude for its services. Alas, this same eagerness to serve makes them almost pathetically insecure - which can become quite annoying, as the beasts fret over what miniscule imperfection in its tissues caused their dear, wonderful, thoughtful owner to clothe himself in Eastern silks, rather than wear robes of its rendered lung-fibers and woven sinews. Should they witness their current master seek out another to provide them with new goods or raw materials, they immediately gain a point of Limit.
When a craftsman is threatened with loss of life or limb should he fail to complete a project before the next dawn, but lacks the tools or materials with which to do so, an aptocimex will often scuttle out of Hell and into his workspace, offering its own tissues in place of whatever the unfortunate mortal has need of.
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"This mortal wants a sorcerous link back to me. They are either a hostile sorcerer or in the thrall of one. Dispatch the police-monks who worship the most violent aspects of the Dragons and have an inordinate fondness for kneecaps.
HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Working on a really large Homebrew about a northern satrapy with faintly wyld-touched people. After that I have two ideas, which sounds better? "Martial Arts Societies of Creation" or "Colonies and Enclaves of The Realm"
- Location
- my house
This is really good! You've really improved over your old stuff.
I love how creepy these things are, cannibalizing their own flesh to provide tools and clothes is a perfect demon aesthetic
- Location
- Ottawa
Giygas
Cutest Sawk i could find. Lucario is a nice extra.
Just realized something: the Infernals are mini-primordials (at least according to 2E), with thus the ability to become their own mini-primordial. (Which has mechanical problems, given that it unlocks only at 6E and you already have all the Charms that you define you.) In Kerisgame, which does have saner mechanics, this is a problem because they are starting to spawn their own Third Circles, thus making themselves tecnically superiors to their Third CIrcle backers.
But shouldn't a Fetich/Third Circle Exalt be perfectly viable in-universe? The Incarnae should be roughly at the level of a Fetich, and they totally managed to infuse the Exaltations with their powers. Most certainly not infuse an already powered Solar Exaltation, but a blank exaltation could be powered by them.
Also, i was going to ask somebody here is they had any idea on how a Underworld tainted Wyld/Wyld tainded Underworld would look... before realizing that i have actually an example of such: the Neath, from Fallen London/Sunless Seas.
First thing first, anything of the Neath exposed to the sun will at minimum lose their special powers and revert to mundanity, and at wrost will violently die/explode/disintegrate. Which is something to be expected from anything coming from a combined Underworld Wyld place.
Secondly, Death is cheap in the Neath. Oh, you can still die, and it is as simple as being cut into pieces, or having a particurarly nasty disease, or being poisoned with the right poison. (Usually supernaturally powerful, nnothing else will stick) Even old age can kill you, even if it is more of a can than a will, given that there is an entire city filled with positively ancient peoples, and you can decay and not die even elsewhere. To not talk about the old continent, where thay had to pass laws to actually limit the lifespan of someone to one thousand years, and then kill those who reached that age. And you have to have a team of butchers on hand to kill effectivelly a Old Continent person, given how fast the regenerate.
I have other points, but i should have gone to sleep more than one hour ago, and thus i cannot write about then coherently.
But shouldn't a Fetich/Third Circle Exalt be perfectly viable in-universe? The Incarnae should be roughly at the level of a Fetich, and they totally managed to infuse the Exaltations with their powers. Most certainly not infuse an already powered Solar Exaltation, but a blank exaltation could be powered by them.
Also, i was going to ask somebody here is they had any idea on how a Underworld tainted Wyld/Wyld tainded Underworld would look... before realizing that i have actually an example of such: the Neath, from Fallen London/Sunless Seas.
First thing first, anything of the Neath exposed to the sun will at minimum lose their special powers and revert to mundanity, and at wrost will violently die/explode/disintegrate. Which is something to be expected from anything coming from a combined Underworld Wyld place.
Secondly, Death is cheap in the Neath. Oh, you can still die, and it is as simple as being cut into pieces, or having a particurarly nasty disease, or being poisoned with the right poison. (Usually supernaturally powerful, nnothing else will stick) Even old age can kill you, even if it is more of a can than a will, given that there is an entire city filled with positively ancient peoples, and you can decay and not die even elsewhere. To not talk about the old continent, where thay had to pass laws to actually limit the lifespan of someone to one thousand years, and then kill those who reached that age. And you have to have a team of butchers on hand to kill effectivelly a Old Continent person, given how fast the regenerate.
I have other points, but i should have gone to sleep more than one hour ago, and thus i cannot write about then coherently.
HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I believe it would be possible for 3CDs to make exaltations, but there are two complications. First, they don't know how, only the Incarnae and a few select others know the secret of Exaltation. UCS made sure that demons can't handle the Exigence according to developer comments and Oramus and Isidoros tried to come up with their own exalts without knowing the process and the results freaked out all the yozis. Two, all the yozis and their 3CDs are afraid of the Law of Diminishment, no 3CD wants to risk being permanently reduced.
UrsaTempest
Don't Panic!
That seems to be easiest, yay.
- Location
- Pittsburgh, PA
I'll vote for "Martial Arts Societies of Creation", since @QafianSage and I have ideas about how to handle them that involve adding bits of xianxia to the affair, where part of the divide between skilled practitioners of a martial art and true masters of it is having achieved godhood* - and that the skilled practitioners (IE, the various supernaturally-endowed scrubs that Yusuke pummels in order to become Genkai's apprentice) are distinguished by actually being able to use some of the Charms connected to their martial art, because they've experienced an epiphany (and/or Awakened their Essence) through their years of practice and experience, following the subtle wisdom of their techniques to the limits of human potential.
To go back to the xianxia analogy, it means that the Terrestrial Exalts get to be the sneering dynastic heirs to the Black Tortoise Emptiness Manse, while the Celestial Exalted are terrifying anomalies who have a busted cultivation technique that let them progress so much faster than they 'should' be able to, by providing an underlying layer of superhumans who are terrifying badasses to common mortals, but would in turn consider a blood ape to be a dire threat. It's intended to help emphasize how amazing the Exalted are by giving them lower echelons of power to loom over, rather than making it feel like they're the only real people in a world of helpless extras.
* Or behemothdom, so you have things like an Emerald Wasp stylist who hammers jadesteel nails through his chakra meridians to awaken his true potential, rejecting the bonds of humanity and becoming something more, without then getting a letter from the Celestial Bureaucracy about his new post. This also means you can have people who continue to age (and are thus still able to engage in the various narrative concepts that entails) after becoming ineligible for Exaltation, where most gods are portrayed as vaguely ageless, without having to get into the weeds on deific lifespans.
mothematics
How wide is the concept of "you"?
- Location
- the bottom of a coffee cup
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I think it could make sense for a 3CD to have an Exigent of them specifically rather than of the greater Yozi but I don't know if that's something we're likely to see in the book considering that it runs into questions of Yozi soul structure and primacy. "Can a 3CD have its own Exalted" is a pretty thorny topic that would have to account for this stuff and answer it in some way.
HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Martial Arts it is then. I probably won't do it all in one post and i'll be focusing on lore instead of mechanics. Major inspirations will be the webcomics Gosu and Kill Six Billion Demons.
- Location
- my house
I vote Martial Arts Societies of Creation as I am using them pretty heavily in my campaign right now.
Speaking of which, I still need to do a proper write up but I basically have Martial Arts Societies fulfill the same niche as the militant Buddhist monks in the Sengoku Jidai. As a heavily armed force they naturally attract people who seek their protection and form what are essentially city-states with varying degrees of freedom from the country they reside. On the one hand rulers hate them because of their autonomy, on the other hand, they love them for the ready access to highly skilled warriors they provide. The exact specifics, of course, vary from dojo to dojo and country to country.
Also this is confined to the hundred kingdoms. The Realm obviously has a much different relationship to MA.
HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I was thinking of having them resemble both the militant sects of the sengoku jidai, the more revolutionary roots of the older chinese triads, and fictionalized ninja clans in the vein of The Kouga Ninja Scrolls and Yagyu Ninja Scrolls (and Naruto, which was heavily inspired by the them before it turned into a kaiju manga).
HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Eshirreol, Land of Wyld-Blessed Springs
Long ago, as the world before this one died of plague and crusade, the peoples of the Middle North suffered. They wandered across the vast and trackless wastes, starving and afraid, beset by The Dead and the followers of The Baleful Gaze. One such people, the Eshir, were particularly maligned, their homeland destroyed. They cried out to their heroes, but their heroes were sickened or dying. They cried out to the heavens, but the heavens were silent. They cried out to The Princes of the Earth, but the Princes of the Earth were dead and rotting. At last, they cried out for anyone, anything, to deliver them from their fate, and lo, their cries were finally answered. From the east, heralded by dreams and songs on the wind, came the Nine Errants. Skilled with lore and the blade in equal measure, they cowed the Eshir and formed a covenant with them; the Errants would lead the Eshir to safety and prosperity, and the Eshir would adore the legends of the Errants forevermore. The Errants led the Eshir west to a series of mountain valleys that had been devoured by the wyld. Leveraging their mythic power, The Errants slew the protean chaos and carved new lands from its corpse. Alpine lakes sprung into being, warmed by the blood of the earth and subtle currents of the wyld. Towering forests of cedar and pine dotted the mountainsides, filled with game. The lower valleys were covered with fields and meadows of sublime beauty. The Eshir looked upon their new home and saw that it was good. They ate of the land, and so became of the land. They bathed in the sacred lakes, and were thus enlightened. All worshipped the Nine Errants, who vanished into song and legend after their great working. The Eshir named their kingdom Eshirreol, "Refuge of The People", and became a modest power of the North, situated in the mountains east of the Kunlun Desert and south of the White Sea.
For centuries, Eshirreol prospered. The land was fertile and its people healthy, fed on great harvests of crops that could grow nowhere else in the North. Its waters remained warm even in the harshest winters. The Eshir bathed in the lakes to receive their blessings, some granting luck, health, or fertility. Other Eshir found themselves granted wings, or scales, or other blessings. The greatest among the Eshir quested for power in the highest and most holy of the lakes, the Nine Wellsprings, using lore taught to them by the Nine Errants to avoid the dangers of the wyld at the hearts of the waters. Those who returned from their quests with powers were dubbed The Baptized, the Knights of Eshirreol, who's legends and deeds would become the basis for the noble lines of the land. When barbarians came unto the valleys seeking plunder or blood, The Baptized threw them back with wyld-touched magics. When the Eshir gazed upon their smaller neighbors with envy, The Baptized rode forth atop twisted goblin-beasts to demand tribute. Eshirreol prospered, and then, a century and a half ago, the Realm came.
At first, the war against the Realm went well for the Eshir. The Sesus Legions broke like sanguine waves upon the fortresses that guarded the passes into Eshirreol, their cunning spies deceived and enthralled by the priests of the Errants. The Baptized slew the Realm's vanguard and flooded the hinterlands with swarming goblin thralls. The Eshir bargained with the Winter Folk to harry the Realm's supply trains and haunt the dreams of their soldiers. And then the Imperial Legions joined the fray and Eshirreol withered under their might. The Baptized were outmatched by the Dragon-Blooded whenever they took to the field. The Realm's sorcerers laid blights and curses upon many of Eshirreol's sacred springs. Unbeknownst to both sides, the Star-Chosen in Yu-Shan wove dooms and terrible fates upon the Eshir to ensure their eventual defeat. After five years of bloody invasion, the Eshir sued for peace. The most cooperative of the Baptized nobility were allowed to retain their status, the most resistant were publically crucified. The Immaculate Order restricted access to The Nine Wellsprings and ritually defiled the lesser springs. The Sesus Satrap, enraged at the Eshir's defiance during the war, sought to break the peoples' spirits, inviting touring dynasts to frolic in springs once considered holy and gawk at the wyld-touched and lust after at comely Eshir. The Scarlet Dynasty soon thought Eshirreol like prostrate An-Teng to the far south, and the Eshir to be a broken people fit for servitude. The Eshir seethed under their rulers, but they had sworn oaths of fealty and were loathe to break their word, and the more flexible among them still feared the jade-mailed fist of the legions. Now, with the Realm turned inward to squabbling over the Empress's throne, a spark of hope has ignited in Eshirreol, a spark that is fragile yet treasured.
The People of Eshirreol
The Eshir were long considered eccentric by their neighbors. The blood of faerie runs in their veins, but so diluted as to leave them more or less human. Their wyld ancestry largely manifests in the form of mildly fae (either of the Raksha or their hobgoblin minions) features, atypical imaginations, and Old Realm phrases in their local dialect of Skytongue. They regard wyld-mutations with a pragmatic bent, seeing many as boons and blessings, while careful to put down those turned mad by the wyld. The Eshir revere stories and legends, nearly every family has a personal epic that grows with the deeds of each member, some taking the guise of beloved heroes or equally beloved villains over the years. Their worship of the Nine Errants, the Shinma, and various spirits native to the land continues in secret despite immaculate censorship. The Eshir always love a good story however, no matter how foreign, and some passages of the Immaculate Texts find themselves incorporated into their living mythologies even among those who hate the Realm the most. Before the Realm came, folk shamanesses would lay blessings and auguries upon newborns and the Priests of the Nine Errants would recite poetic sagas at feasts. Theatre was worship for the Eshir, retelling and foretelling great deeds. Eshir bards wrote folktales and songs that can be found throughout the north, and the region continues to produce renowned playwrights and musicians. Some of the lands neighboring Eshirreol consider the Eshir to be strange and unnatural yet also entertaining and honorable, many a northern saga has an Eshir character who acts as comic relief or an eccentric but steadfast friend. Others nurse bitter grudges over past cruelties inflicted by The Baptized and for the Eshir offering up their ancestors upon the altar of their own sagas. Some consider the Eshir less than human for the wyld-blood that they bear, claiming they have no souls and sell human captives to the Raksha. Whitewall, Gethamane, and the Icewalkers have always despised the Eshir, disdainful of their connection to the wyld. Pneuma in particular sees the Eshir as blasphemies against the Perfected Hierarchy.
Under the boot of House Sesus, Eshirreol tries to continue as it once did, but life is muted for the Eshir. They can no longer recite their sagas as they once did. They can no longer visit some of their most sacred lakes and some of the valley springs are defiled by byproducts of the Realm's economic interests. The Eshir may still bathe in many of the springs, but the Immaculates have taken care to seal several of the wyld zones. Several Baptized bloodlines remain, a puppet nobility of the Realm. Some knights are now rightfully reviled by the people, others try to limit the Realm's power and are loved for it. The terms of Eshirreol's surrender allowed for wyld-questing in the Nine Wellsprings by well behaved nobles, but excursions are heavily regulated by the Immaculate Order, which has gradually made access to the Wellsprings more and more difficult. Dynastic and Patrician tourists view Eshirreol as a scenic getaway, relaxing in its springs and relishing its distinctive food (often spiced or sweetened in ways alien most northern kingdoms due to Eshirreol's wyld-touched ecology). Less savory Dynasts take concubines and slaves from the Eshir, seeing them as a particularly exotic people. The Dynasty sees the Eshir as servile curiosities, forgetting they once held their own in the harsh wastes of the North. As a satrapy, Eshirreol sends ore, lumber, and crops back to the Realm, and in particular exports food surplus to many satrapies, improving the productivity of its fellow vassal states.
Intrigues and Mysteries
The defeat of the Tepet Legions was felt in heavily Eshirreol, many more Eshir now dream of casting out the Realm and ruling themselves once again. The Satrapy had always had a robust society of insurgents and other revolutionaries, but House Sesus was careful to put them down with regularity. Now, House Sesus turns its eye towards the prospect of civil war on the Blessed Isle, and is far less attentive than it used to be. Insurgent now cells swell with new recruits and support from Baptized nobles. The idea of allying with revolutionaries in neighboring satrapies has been gaining popularity among the Eshir's political underworld, many dreaming of forming a grand federation to keep out the Realm forevermore.
The year before the Empress disappeared, the imperial garrison cracked down on the revolutionary Red Cloud Society, a religious movement that opposed the Realm. Many were hauled off to the Deshaan Slave States while others were imprisoned in gulags on the shores of Eshirreol's Lake Sado, its toxic waters long regarded as an ill omen by the Eshir. One night, a shamaness imprisoned in one of the gulags cried out for salvation and the Dead Things of the Abyss answered her. Hungry ghosts slew all within save the newly exalted Deathknight, who walked into the Underworld to train under The Shining One. She has since left the region to spread the Word of The Neverborn across Creation, but the shores of the lake now possess a slowly growing shadowland. The unnatural place is connected to The Labyrinth itself, and has resisted several efforts by the Immaculate Order to seal it.
Baptized Knights once went to war at the head of great armies of short-lived goblin-things, shaped from the wyld by Eshir savants using a ritual called the Goblin-Calling-Way. Knowledge of the process was heavily censored in the years after Eshirreol's surrender, and none now claim to know the ritual to create the goblin hordes. The garrison commander, Ragara Sakar, has been quietly searching for information on the Goblin-Calling-Way under orders from Ragara himself.
Separate from the Eshir is the Vraj ethnic group, distant descendants of a Varajtul horde that ravaged the mountains. They form small clans in mountain strongholds and were once vassals and boon-companions to the Eshir. They now look down upon their former allies, viewing them as weaklings for capitulating to the Realm. An agent of the Silver Pact has taken note of the Vraj, and has made plans to wield them as a weapon against the Dragon-Blooded.
Dynasts, patricians, and legionnaires have long sired bastards upon the Eshir, treating Eshirreol as a more northerly version of An-Teng. Long viewed as legacies of the Realm occupation, these half-Eshir are subject to varying levels of distrust by both the Wan of the Realm and the Eshir themselves. The Wan expect the half-bloods to be exemplars of obedience, while the Eshir often expect them to be twice as loyal to their families and spy on the Realm. Some bear the Blood of the Dragons, and a few have Exalted over the years. Even in the far off cells of Pasiap's Stair, Eshirreol and its customs are difficult to forget, though some Eshir Dragonblooded nurse grudges against their mortal relatives for years of mistreatment. One Eshir Outcaste, Winter Cider, rose to the position of a respected Dragonlord in the Imperial Legions before the Empress's disappearance. She has since been discharged by House Cathak. Once a die-hard Realm loyalist she now holds back cold rage against the Dynasty that used her only cast her aside. The Satrap, Sesus Laren, has also given birth to a half-Eshir daughter, and now has trouble managing her fondness for the precocious child.
House Sesus has been funneling more and more of Eshirreol's harvests into granaries on the Blessed Isle to feed its legions. The tribute is not yet unsustainable, but if the amount continues to rise at its current rate, Eshirreol and its neighbors may be left with fallow fields for years to come.
Three years ago, a young nobleman power quested in one of the Nine Wellsprings and became something more than merely Baptized. His command of essence, well hidden from the satrap and Immaculate Order, far outstrips that of his brethren. When he sleeps, he receives visions claiming that he is one of the Dream-Souled, Chosen of the Wyld. Secretly, he fears that the wyld has driven him mad.
Unbeknownst to the Realm, a wyld-spawned behemoth sleeps beneath Lake Baam. Zozimat, The Thousand Gale Wyrm, lies in a deep slumber, lulled by the wyld. The Immaculates have inadvertently disturbed it's slumber by interfering with the wyld energies of the lake. It now sleeps fitfully, causing tremors and rough weather around the lake as it awakens over the course of years. The Eshir know of the beast's legend, but believe it vanquished. It took countless Baptized Knights and three of the Errants to seal it away in ages past.
The Errants
A studious savant could easily deduce that the Nine Errants were raksha nobles. Their tale is far stranger than most however. Nine powerful nobles of the Balorian Crusade grew bored with the destruction of all Creation, and sought to amuse themselves using the gullible mortals. Stealing a minuscule fragment of the Ishiika, the Grass Cutter Scythe of Balor, they deserted the Crusade, riding far ahead of their former compatriots and laughing all the while. They came upon the Eshir and first sought to turn them into their larder, to feast upon their souls until the world finally ended. It was when they came upon the tainted lands that would become Eshirreol when they became more than they were. The fears of the Eshir and other tribes of the middle north had bled into the local wyld and turned it poisonous. When the Errants sought to tame the wyld zone, it instead spat forth a terror that shook them to the core, one of the first and greatest of the hannya. The desperate raksha were nearly destroyed, but as they began to know despair for the first time, they noticed the hopes and dreams of the Eshir filling them with determination. The Eshir believed the Errants would prevail, and the Errants devoted all their beings to fulfilling that belief. Exhausting all the power of their stolen fragment of the Ishiika, the Errants managed to slay the hannya and carve Eshirreol from its corpse. Feted by the Eshir as true heroes, the Errants decided to defend their worshippers, if at first only to feast on their dreams with regularity. With time however, the Errants began to love what they had built, for it was founded on true struggle and effort, not from the easy narratives they conjured up in the wyld. As the wyld-powers of the Errants subtly changed the Eshir, so too did the Eshir change the Errants.
The Errants faded into the legends of the Eshir, subtly steering the land of Eshirreol for its own benefit and the benefit of their own stories. Now, with their beloved descendants chained to the yoke of the Realm, the remaining Errants are conflicted. Though they are uniquely mighty among the Tribes of Faerie, all fear reprisals from the Realm and the prospect of being discovered and slain by Immaculates or by the Chosen of the Maidens(who's existence they discovered over the course of centuries). One, The Lady with Nine Fingers, rules over the Court of Cedar and Springs and harries the Realm when she believes she can get away with it. The Ragged Unicorn Knight and Marius of the Crooked Shoulders treat with the Church of Balor and the Winter Folk, hoping to raise warriors against the Realm while preserving Eshirreol. The Saffron Princess Rampant quests for power in the wyld, hoping to become an Ishvara who can throw back the Realm. Agate Crown pores over the shinmaic and soul research of the sanskaras and the shuddavaita, hoping to pull Eshirreol into a protective current of the wyld or empower every Eshir so they may drive their enemies away. Rakish Soulaka wanders Eshirreol as he has for centuries, invoking sacred hospitality and treating with his many lovers, but now he nervously tends to the land's geomancy, correcting the near fatal blunders of the Immaculates so that the valleys do not dissolve back into chaos.
The Baptized Knights
The godblooded nobility of the Eshir bear several heritable gifts and mutations, but the most respected among them power quest in the wyld energies of the Nine Wellsprings. The powers of the Baptized Knights vary, but many can channel their essence to evoke aspects of their personal or familial legends. Many have powers of illusion and minor glamour. Martial arts are common, Dreaming Pearl Courtesan Style and Laughing Monster Style being popular in Eshir legends. The Baptized Knights have an essence pool equal to Essence x 10.
Long ago, as the world before this one died of plague and crusade, the peoples of the Middle North suffered. They wandered across the vast and trackless wastes, starving and afraid, beset by The Dead and the followers of The Baleful Gaze. One such people, the Eshir, were particularly maligned, their homeland destroyed. They cried out to their heroes, but their heroes were sickened or dying. They cried out to the heavens, but the heavens were silent. They cried out to The Princes of the Earth, but the Princes of the Earth were dead and rotting. At last, they cried out for anyone, anything, to deliver them from their fate, and lo, their cries were finally answered. From the east, heralded by dreams and songs on the wind, came the Nine Errants. Skilled with lore and the blade in equal measure, they cowed the Eshir and formed a covenant with them; the Errants would lead the Eshir to safety and prosperity, and the Eshir would adore the legends of the Errants forevermore. The Errants led the Eshir west to a series of mountain valleys that had been devoured by the wyld. Leveraging their mythic power, The Errants slew the protean chaos and carved new lands from its corpse. Alpine lakes sprung into being, warmed by the blood of the earth and subtle currents of the wyld. Towering forests of cedar and pine dotted the mountainsides, filled with game. The lower valleys were covered with fields and meadows of sublime beauty. The Eshir looked upon their new home and saw that it was good. They ate of the land, and so became of the land. They bathed in the sacred lakes, and were thus enlightened. All worshipped the Nine Errants, who vanished into song and legend after their great working. The Eshir named their kingdom Eshirreol, "Refuge of The People", and became a modest power of the North, situated in the mountains east of the Kunlun Desert and south of the White Sea.
For centuries, Eshirreol prospered. The land was fertile and its people healthy, fed on great harvests of crops that could grow nowhere else in the North. Its waters remained warm even in the harshest winters. The Eshir bathed in the lakes to receive their blessings, some granting luck, health, or fertility. Other Eshir found themselves granted wings, or scales, or other blessings. The greatest among the Eshir quested for power in the highest and most holy of the lakes, the Nine Wellsprings, using lore taught to them by the Nine Errants to avoid the dangers of the wyld at the hearts of the waters. Those who returned from their quests with powers were dubbed The Baptized, the Knights of Eshirreol, who's legends and deeds would become the basis for the noble lines of the land. When barbarians came unto the valleys seeking plunder or blood, The Baptized threw them back with wyld-touched magics. When the Eshir gazed upon their smaller neighbors with envy, The Baptized rode forth atop twisted goblin-beasts to demand tribute. Eshirreol prospered, and then, a century and a half ago, the Realm came.
At first, the war against the Realm went well for the Eshir. The Sesus Legions broke like sanguine waves upon the fortresses that guarded the passes into Eshirreol, their cunning spies deceived and enthralled by the priests of the Errants. The Baptized slew the Realm's vanguard and flooded the hinterlands with swarming goblin thralls. The Eshir bargained with the Winter Folk to harry the Realm's supply trains and haunt the dreams of their soldiers. And then the Imperial Legions joined the fray and Eshirreol withered under their might. The Baptized were outmatched by the Dragon-Blooded whenever they took to the field. The Realm's sorcerers laid blights and curses upon many of Eshirreol's sacred springs. Unbeknownst to both sides, the Star-Chosen in Yu-Shan wove dooms and terrible fates upon the Eshir to ensure their eventual defeat. After five years of bloody invasion, the Eshir sued for peace. The most cooperative of the Baptized nobility were allowed to retain their status, the most resistant were publically crucified. The Immaculate Order restricted access to The Nine Wellsprings and ritually defiled the lesser springs. The Sesus Satrap, enraged at the Eshir's defiance during the war, sought to break the peoples' spirits, inviting touring dynasts to frolic in springs once considered holy and gawk at the wyld-touched and lust after at comely Eshir. The Scarlet Dynasty soon thought Eshirreol like prostrate An-Teng to the far south, and the Eshir to be a broken people fit for servitude. The Eshir seethed under their rulers, but they had sworn oaths of fealty and were loathe to break their word, and the more flexible among them still feared the jade-mailed fist of the legions. Now, with the Realm turned inward to squabbling over the Empress's throne, a spark of hope has ignited in Eshirreol, a spark that is fragile yet treasured.
The People of Eshirreol
The Eshir were long considered eccentric by their neighbors. The blood of faerie runs in their veins, but so diluted as to leave them more or less human. Their wyld ancestry largely manifests in the form of mildly fae (either of the Raksha or their hobgoblin minions) features, atypical imaginations, and Old Realm phrases in their local dialect of Skytongue. They regard wyld-mutations with a pragmatic bent, seeing many as boons and blessings, while careful to put down those turned mad by the wyld. The Eshir revere stories and legends, nearly every family has a personal epic that grows with the deeds of each member, some taking the guise of beloved heroes or equally beloved villains over the years. Their worship of the Nine Errants, the Shinma, and various spirits native to the land continues in secret despite immaculate censorship. The Eshir always love a good story however, no matter how foreign, and some passages of the Immaculate Texts find themselves incorporated into their living mythologies even among those who hate the Realm the most. Before the Realm came, folk shamanesses would lay blessings and auguries upon newborns and the Priests of the Nine Errants would recite poetic sagas at feasts. Theatre was worship for the Eshir, retelling and foretelling great deeds. Eshir bards wrote folktales and songs that can be found throughout the north, and the region continues to produce renowned playwrights and musicians. Some of the lands neighboring Eshirreol consider the Eshir to be strange and unnatural yet also entertaining and honorable, many a northern saga has an Eshir character who acts as comic relief or an eccentric but steadfast friend. Others nurse bitter grudges over past cruelties inflicted by The Baptized and for the Eshir offering up their ancestors upon the altar of their own sagas. Some consider the Eshir less than human for the wyld-blood that they bear, claiming they have no souls and sell human captives to the Raksha. Whitewall, Gethamane, and the Icewalkers have always despised the Eshir, disdainful of their connection to the wyld. Pneuma in particular sees the Eshir as blasphemies against the Perfected Hierarchy.
Under the boot of House Sesus, Eshirreol tries to continue as it once did, but life is muted for the Eshir. They can no longer recite their sagas as they once did. They can no longer visit some of their most sacred lakes and some of the valley springs are defiled by byproducts of the Realm's economic interests. The Eshir may still bathe in many of the springs, but the Immaculates have taken care to seal several of the wyld zones. Several Baptized bloodlines remain, a puppet nobility of the Realm. Some knights are now rightfully reviled by the people, others try to limit the Realm's power and are loved for it. The terms of Eshirreol's surrender allowed for wyld-questing in the Nine Wellsprings by well behaved nobles, but excursions are heavily regulated by the Immaculate Order, which has gradually made access to the Wellsprings more and more difficult. Dynastic and Patrician tourists view Eshirreol as a scenic getaway, relaxing in its springs and relishing its distinctive food (often spiced or sweetened in ways alien most northern kingdoms due to Eshirreol's wyld-touched ecology). Less savory Dynasts take concubines and slaves from the Eshir, seeing them as a particularly exotic people. The Dynasty sees the Eshir as servile curiosities, forgetting they once held their own in the harsh wastes of the North. As a satrapy, Eshirreol sends ore, lumber, and crops back to the Realm, and in particular exports food surplus to many satrapies, improving the productivity of its fellow vassal states.
Intrigues and Mysteries
The defeat of the Tepet Legions was felt in heavily Eshirreol, many more Eshir now dream of casting out the Realm and ruling themselves once again. The Satrapy had always had a robust society of insurgents and other revolutionaries, but House Sesus was careful to put them down with regularity. Now, House Sesus turns its eye towards the prospect of civil war on the Blessed Isle, and is far less attentive than it used to be. Insurgent now cells swell with new recruits and support from Baptized nobles. The idea of allying with revolutionaries in neighboring satrapies has been gaining popularity among the Eshir's political underworld, many dreaming of forming a grand federation to keep out the Realm forevermore.
The year before the Empress disappeared, the imperial garrison cracked down on the revolutionary Red Cloud Society, a religious movement that opposed the Realm. Many were hauled off to the Deshaan Slave States while others were imprisoned in gulags on the shores of Eshirreol's Lake Sado, its toxic waters long regarded as an ill omen by the Eshir. One night, a shamaness imprisoned in one of the gulags cried out for salvation and the Dead Things of the Abyss answered her. Hungry ghosts slew all within save the newly exalted Deathknight, who walked into the Underworld to train under The Shining One. She has since left the region to spread the Word of The Neverborn across Creation, but the shores of the lake now possess a slowly growing shadowland. The unnatural place is connected to The Labyrinth itself, and has resisted several efforts by the Immaculate Order to seal it.
Baptized Knights once went to war at the head of great armies of short-lived goblin-things, shaped from the wyld by Eshir savants using a ritual called the Goblin-Calling-Way. Knowledge of the process was heavily censored in the years after Eshirreol's surrender, and none now claim to know the ritual to create the goblin hordes. The garrison commander, Ragara Sakar, has been quietly searching for information on the Goblin-Calling-Way under orders from Ragara himself.
Separate from the Eshir is the Vraj ethnic group, distant descendants of a Varajtul horde that ravaged the mountains. They form small clans in mountain strongholds and were once vassals and boon-companions to the Eshir. They now look down upon their former allies, viewing them as weaklings for capitulating to the Realm. An agent of the Silver Pact has taken note of the Vraj, and has made plans to wield them as a weapon against the Dragon-Blooded.
Dynasts, patricians, and legionnaires have long sired bastards upon the Eshir, treating Eshirreol as a more northerly version of An-Teng. Long viewed as legacies of the Realm occupation, these half-Eshir are subject to varying levels of distrust by both the Wan of the Realm and the Eshir themselves. The Wan expect the half-bloods to be exemplars of obedience, while the Eshir often expect them to be twice as loyal to their families and spy on the Realm. Some bear the Blood of the Dragons, and a few have Exalted over the years. Even in the far off cells of Pasiap's Stair, Eshirreol and its customs are difficult to forget, though some Eshir Dragonblooded nurse grudges against their mortal relatives for years of mistreatment. One Eshir Outcaste, Winter Cider, rose to the position of a respected Dragonlord in the Imperial Legions before the Empress's disappearance. She has since been discharged by House Cathak. Once a die-hard Realm loyalist she now holds back cold rage against the Dynasty that used her only cast her aside. The Satrap, Sesus Laren, has also given birth to a half-Eshir daughter, and now has trouble managing her fondness for the precocious child.
House Sesus has been funneling more and more of Eshirreol's harvests into granaries on the Blessed Isle to feed its legions. The tribute is not yet unsustainable, but if the amount continues to rise at its current rate, Eshirreol and its neighbors may be left with fallow fields for years to come.
Three years ago, a young nobleman power quested in one of the Nine Wellsprings and became something more than merely Baptized. His command of essence, well hidden from the satrap and Immaculate Order, far outstrips that of his brethren. When he sleeps, he receives visions claiming that he is one of the Dream-Souled, Chosen of the Wyld. Secretly, he fears that the wyld has driven him mad.
Unbeknownst to the Realm, a wyld-spawned behemoth sleeps beneath Lake Baam. Zozimat, The Thousand Gale Wyrm, lies in a deep slumber, lulled by the wyld. The Immaculates have inadvertently disturbed it's slumber by interfering with the wyld energies of the lake. It now sleeps fitfully, causing tremors and rough weather around the lake as it awakens over the course of years. The Eshir know of the beast's legend, but believe it vanquished. It took countless Baptized Knights and three of the Errants to seal it away in ages past.
The Errants
A studious savant could easily deduce that the Nine Errants were raksha nobles. Their tale is far stranger than most however. Nine powerful nobles of the Balorian Crusade grew bored with the destruction of all Creation, and sought to amuse themselves using the gullible mortals. Stealing a minuscule fragment of the Ishiika, the Grass Cutter Scythe of Balor, they deserted the Crusade, riding far ahead of their former compatriots and laughing all the while. They came upon the Eshir and first sought to turn them into their larder, to feast upon their souls until the world finally ended. It was when they came upon the tainted lands that would become Eshirreol when they became more than they were. The fears of the Eshir and other tribes of the middle north had bled into the local wyld and turned it poisonous. When the Errants sought to tame the wyld zone, it instead spat forth a terror that shook them to the core, one of the first and greatest of the hannya. The desperate raksha were nearly destroyed, but as they began to know despair for the first time, they noticed the hopes and dreams of the Eshir filling them with determination. The Eshir believed the Errants would prevail, and the Errants devoted all their beings to fulfilling that belief. Exhausting all the power of their stolen fragment of the Ishiika, the Errants managed to slay the hannya and carve Eshirreol from its corpse. Feted by the Eshir as true heroes, the Errants decided to defend their worshippers, if at first only to feast on their dreams with regularity. With time however, the Errants began to love what they had built, for it was founded on true struggle and effort, not from the easy narratives they conjured up in the wyld. As the wyld-powers of the Errants subtly changed the Eshir, so too did the Eshir change the Errants.
The Errants faded into the legends of the Eshir, subtly steering the land of Eshirreol for its own benefit and the benefit of their own stories. Now, with their beloved descendants chained to the yoke of the Realm, the remaining Errants are conflicted. Though they are uniquely mighty among the Tribes of Faerie, all fear reprisals from the Realm and the prospect of being discovered and slain by Immaculates or by the Chosen of the Maidens(who's existence they discovered over the course of centuries). One, The Lady with Nine Fingers, rules over the Court of Cedar and Springs and harries the Realm when she believes she can get away with it. The Ragged Unicorn Knight and Marius of the Crooked Shoulders treat with the Church of Balor and the Winter Folk, hoping to raise warriors against the Realm while preserving Eshirreol. The Saffron Princess Rampant quests for power in the wyld, hoping to become an Ishvara who can throw back the Realm. Agate Crown pores over the shinmaic and soul research of the sanskaras and the shuddavaita, hoping to pull Eshirreol into a protective current of the wyld or empower every Eshir so they may drive their enemies away. Rakish Soulaka wanders Eshirreol as he has for centuries, invoking sacred hospitality and treating with his many lovers, but now he nervously tends to the land's geomancy, correcting the near fatal blunders of the Immaculates so that the valleys do not dissolve back into chaos.
The Baptized Knights
The godblooded nobility of the Eshir bear several heritable gifts and mutations, but the most respected among them power quest in the wyld energies of the Nine Wellsprings. The powers of the Baptized Knights vary, but many can channel their essence to evoke aspects of their personal or familial legends. Many have powers of illusion and minor glamour. Martial arts are common, Dreaming Pearl Courtesan Style and Laughing Monster Style being popular in Eshir legends. The Baptized Knights have an essence pool equal to Essence x 10.
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- Location
- my house
So here is my first pass of how I'll be handling Warstriders in the game I am running. The actual stat blocks still need to be run through but this gives a basic overview of their place in the world and how they work.
Warstriders:
Warstriders are controlled using the same rules as a mount. He uses the Warstrider's attributes. A war strider is made durable and tough, able to shrug off blows that would fell even an exalt and mow through legions without feeling a scratch. Consequently, a Warstrider does not take any damage from attacks that fail to penetrate its soak, it ignores the minimum damage requirement of weapons.
The modern Warstrider is simple to use and easy to maintain. By default, all Warstriders created since the fall of the Shogunate have a control rating of 0. This fallen age has neither the knowledge nor the inclination to create truly sentient Warstriders. Warstriders require regular maintenance. Modern Warstriders require a steady flow of Essence to move. A Warstrider without Essence cannot move. The most common method of powering a Warstrider is through the use of Hearthstones, however, an exalt or other Essence wielding creature can choose (or be forced) to use it's Essence to power a Warstrider for a time. The Essence expenditure of a Warstrider is listed in its stat block.
Shogunate Warstriders function the same as modern Warstriders except bigger and better. This should come as no surprise, as many of the modern Warstriders are based on old Shogunate designs. The Shogunate did have the ability to produce sentient Warstriders and even ones which did not require regular upkeep but these became too expensive as time went on.
The Warstriders of the First age never requires repairs. They do however require vast Essence expenditures to function. They are also very prideful. Getting them to accept a pilot is a quest in and of itself. A First Age Warstrider (and greatest Shogunate Warstriders) cannot be piloted without its consent. Even afterwards they still have a minimum control rating of 5. First Age Warstriders should be treated as characters in their own right, allies as much as objects. Woe betide the foolish Solar who mistreats their Warstrider, for they may find themselves stripped of control and trapped as a Battery by the angry God-Machine.
When a character fails their Control roll, the Warstrider acts of its own accord as a mount does. When performing these actions all rolls use the Warstriders the character's abilities, but replaces the character's ride rating with it's Control rating.
*GM's Note: You may notice that the only time a player can lose control of their Warstrider is when their Ride is lower than it's Control rating. This means that losing control of the Warstrider actually enhances their capabilities! This is intended. The Warstriders of the First Age haven't weathered the transition well. Many have had their internal logic corrupted, follow protocols alien to this day and age or have failed to realize that the world has changed. While it is possible to get them to join forces with the PCs, they will never act exactly as the players would want. Letting the Warstrider take control is a risky tactic that can pay off very well, but can also go very wrong.
I'm worried the GM's note isn't clear. Does it make sense to everyone? Should I rework it or add examples?
EDIT:
I definitely like the the behemothdom thing. I really like how it makes awakening your essence more unique and weird. Like a lot of the time when thinking about martial artists we picture what is basically just people with super powers and I think making them weirder improves the world. Sure, maybe that monastery on the mountain only does ritual fasting to awaken their essence, but the group over their tatoos themselves with firedust to channel flame essence through their bodies, and those monks near shadowlands follow the practice of living mummification, etc.
I don't really like the god thing though? It feels a little too simple if that makes sense? Like you awakened your Essence, BOOM you're a god.
Agreed. Martial Arts should fulfil a variety of roles in Exalted depending on the location. Like the great houses having Kouga Ninja serving them makes tons of sense. My take as semi to entirely independent ruling parties is specifically for the turbulent area of the hundred kingdoms.
Warstriders:
Warstriders are controlled using the same rules as a mount. He uses the Warstrider's attributes. A war strider is made durable and tough, able to shrug off blows that would fell even an exalt and mow through legions without feeling a scratch. Consequently, a Warstrider does not take any damage from attacks that fail to penetrate its soak, it ignores the minimum damage requirement of weapons.
The modern Warstrider is simple to use and easy to maintain. By default, all Warstriders created since the fall of the Shogunate have a control rating of 0. This fallen age has neither the knowledge nor the inclination to create truly sentient Warstriders. Warstriders require regular maintenance. Modern Warstriders require a steady flow of Essence to move. A Warstrider without Essence cannot move. The most common method of powering a Warstrider is through the use of Hearthstones, however, an exalt or other Essence wielding creature can choose (or be forced) to use it's Essence to power a Warstrider for a time. The Essence expenditure of a Warstrider is listed in its stat block.
Shogunate Warstriders function the same as modern Warstriders except bigger and better. This should come as no surprise, as many of the modern Warstriders are based on old Shogunate designs. The Shogunate did have the ability to produce sentient Warstriders and even ones which did not require regular upkeep but these became too expensive as time went on.
The Warstriders of the First age never requires repairs. They do however require vast Essence expenditures to function. They are also very prideful. Getting them to accept a pilot is a quest in and of itself. A First Age Warstrider (and greatest Shogunate Warstriders) cannot be piloted without its consent. Even afterwards they still have a minimum control rating of 5. First Age Warstriders should be treated as characters in their own right, allies as much as objects. Woe betide the foolish Solar who mistreats their Warstrider, for they may find themselves stripped of control and trapped as a Battery by the angry God-Machine.
When a character fails their Control roll, the Warstrider acts of its own accord as a mount does. When performing these actions all rolls use the Warstriders the character's abilities, but replaces the character's ride rating with it's Control rating.
*GM's Note: You may notice that the only time a player can lose control of their Warstrider is when their Ride is lower than it's Control rating. This means that losing control of the Warstrider actually enhances their capabilities! This is intended. The Warstriders of the First Age haven't weathered the transition well. Many have had their internal logic corrupted, follow protocols alien to this day and age or have failed to realize that the world has changed. While it is possible to get them to join forces with the PCs, they will never act exactly as the players would want. Letting the Warstrider take control is a risky tactic that can pay off very well, but can also go very wrong.
I'm worried the GM's note isn't clear. Does it make sense to everyone? Should I rework it or add examples?
EDIT:
I definitely like the the behemothdom thing. I really like how it makes awakening your essence more unique and weird. Like a lot of the time when thinking about martial artists we picture what is basically just people with super powers and I think making them weirder improves the world. Sure, maybe that monastery on the mountain only does ritual fasting to awaken their essence, but the group over their tatoos themselves with firedust to channel flame essence through their bodies, and those monks near shadowlands follow the practice of living mummification, etc.
I don't really like the god thing though? It feels a little too simple if that makes sense? Like you awakened your Essence, BOOM you're a god.
Agreed. Martial Arts should fulfil a variety of roles in Exalted depending on the location. Like the great houses having Kouga Ninja serving them makes tons of sense. My take as semi to entirely independent ruling parties is specifically for the turbulent area of the hundred kingdoms.
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- Pronouns
- They/Them
Holy shit that's awesome.
QafianSage
Ascending Ape
- Location
- United Kingdom
That's not really what we meant re: the god thing. It's more like, it's possible for a non-godblood to take in divine Essence or take other means to become a part of the Celestial Bureaucracy, and this is one of the forms of 'ascension' a sufficiently-enlightened mortal can undergo. It's not that you awaken your Essence and become a god, it's that after you awaken your Essence, you keep on clawing your way up until you get to a point where if you go any further you're simply not mortal anymore. Like, for other routes you've got the aforementioned behemothdom, which is really an endless number of different 'routes', drinking deep of the Wyld to become a martial artist of impossible power and skill, making pacts with demons to become a heretical devil-master, meditating for years in a powerful Fire demesne, respiring the Essence such that it doesn't twist your flesh but becomes a part of you until at the culmination of your apotheosis you burn away your mortal flesh and emerge as a garda bird. Or something.
In other words, the idea isn't that martial artists all turn into gods or whatever, it's that there's a kind of tier system, where you have mortal MArtists, enlightened MArtists, MArtists beginning to transcend mortality and then the MArtists who leave mortality behind entirely and become something new. It's opening the way for mortals to grow and become cool shit, rather than making it simple. A martial artist who truly and totally transcends mortality is going to be a one-in-ten-thousand genius (possibly of hard work) or rarer.
Like, let's take a legendary dojo as an example - the Ember Peacock Monastery. The master is a garda bird who was once, five hundred years ago, a human, and has mastered the entirety of the Heart's Fire Style. Legends tell that a century ago she fought a demon lord to a standstill in the mountains behind the monastery, weathering every blandishment and blasphemous word as she weathered the blows of its immense cudgel, buying time for the legendary sorcerer Wu Lijin - her lover of decades, and still - to banish it back to Hell. She has ten disciples who are on a similar road to her; their eyes are merry flames and each could fight on equal footing with a blood ape or two. Each of these masters has their own small circle of disciples whose Essence runs as fire in their meridians, but these adepts, while mighty warriors in their own right, are lucky if they have sufficent mastery of the Style as to be able to enter its Form. Then we have the mortal students, who have no magic of their own but masterful skill and years of conditioning, and below them the student-students, who are working up to that baseline. There's probably around a couple thousand or so in total who live at the monastery, and more who come to study from surrounding villages or similar. This is a force fit to shape the course of nations, and even put up a significant fight against an exalt or two - and not one of them is an exalt themselves. They're mortals who pulled themselves up and became more than that.
In a more normal dojo, you'd probably have only a single adept-level MArtist as the master, with the lesser members being simply mortal, if skilled. The Ember Peacock Monastery is the result of several centuries' work by an immortal once-human elemental and her sorcerer-lover, so it's kind of on the higher end of the scale.
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HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Lotus Drake Triad
The Lotus Drake Triad is a particularly reviled martial artist sect. It engages in all sorts of criminal activities, using it's connections in various cities to acquire goods considered contraband in others, dealing in prohibited drugs, arms and artifact smuggling, and untaxed gambling. Confined to the coastal and riverine states of the Scavenger Lands and the more lax satrapies, the Triad is dominated by ethnic Wan, causing many to suspect them of being patsys of the Realm. In truth, they assign the Realm no special privileges, being descended from enclaves of dissidents, impoverished patricians, scions of fallen great houses, and the dispossessed. Many triad doyens even hold the Realm in disdain for injustices inflicted upon their ancestors, dreaming of one day overthrowing the Scarlet Dynasty, though this is a distant wish at best.
The triad practices a twisted version of the Immaculate tradition, blended with occult practices and heresies. Triad enforcers engage in ascetic training regimes and hone their bodies into weapons. It's doyens marry esoteric martial arts with thaumaturgies and true sorceries, ensuring the fivefold oaths of loyalty sworn by the triad's elite are backed up by threats of horrific and arcane reprisal. The triad's initiated members abide by a code of "chivalrous conduct" and maintain a narrative of resistance against the tyranny of the Scarlet Dynasty. Some even try to make good on these claims and defend the impoverished against the abuses of the wealthy and powerful, many more interpret the codes as they please. Most villages and neighborhoods under the triad's thumb couldn't care less about their selective romanticism so long as the enforcers leave them alone. It's upper ranks are saturated with outcastes and disgraced immaculates, including the dread sorcerer Loshung, master of the Thousand Cuts Style, and the heretic Immaculate Abbot Sixty-Seven Cinders, whose blasphemous version of the Fire Dragon Style saw him declared Anathema.
The triad has been violently suppressed several times in the past, but has always managed to survive. Governments suspect it's resilience comes from aid from various interests in the Confederation of Rivers and the Guild, and they are partially correct, but the triad has friends much higher places. The Five Vagabond Drakes, a group of powerful Lesser Elemental Dragons, collectively serve as the triad's hidden patron divinities, using their outcaste elite as proxies against their rivals in various spirit courts. In exchange, the dragons teach triad doyens occult secrets and help them acquire various supernatural goods.
The Lotus Drake Triad is a particularly reviled martial artist sect. It engages in all sorts of criminal activities, using it's connections in various cities to acquire goods considered contraband in others, dealing in prohibited drugs, arms and artifact smuggling, and untaxed gambling. Confined to the coastal and riverine states of the Scavenger Lands and the more lax satrapies, the Triad is dominated by ethnic Wan, causing many to suspect them of being patsys of the Realm. In truth, they assign the Realm no special privileges, being descended from enclaves of dissidents, impoverished patricians, scions of fallen great houses, and the dispossessed. Many triad doyens even hold the Realm in disdain for injustices inflicted upon their ancestors, dreaming of one day overthrowing the Scarlet Dynasty, though this is a distant wish at best.
The triad practices a twisted version of the Immaculate tradition, blended with occult practices and heresies. Triad enforcers engage in ascetic training regimes and hone their bodies into weapons. It's doyens marry esoteric martial arts with thaumaturgies and true sorceries, ensuring the fivefold oaths of loyalty sworn by the triad's elite are backed up by threats of horrific and arcane reprisal. The triad's initiated members abide by a code of "chivalrous conduct" and maintain a narrative of resistance against the tyranny of the Scarlet Dynasty. Some even try to make good on these claims and defend the impoverished against the abuses of the wealthy and powerful, many more interpret the codes as they please. Most villages and neighborhoods under the triad's thumb couldn't care less about their selective romanticism so long as the enforcers leave them alone. It's upper ranks are saturated with outcastes and disgraced immaculates, including the dread sorcerer Loshung, master of the Thousand Cuts Style, and the heretic Immaculate Abbot Sixty-Seven Cinders, whose blasphemous version of the Fire Dragon Style saw him declared Anathema.
The triad has been violently suppressed several times in the past, but has always managed to survive. Governments suspect it's resilience comes from aid from various interests in the Confederation of Rivers and the Guild, and they are partially correct, but the triad has friends much higher places. The Five Vagabond Drakes, a group of powerful Lesser Elemental Dragons, collectively serve as the triad's hidden patron divinities, using their outcaste elite as proxies against their rivals in various spirit courts. In exchange, the dragons teach triad doyens occult secrets and help them acquire various supernatural goods.
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I'll be honest, my first impression of these guys wasn't "craft parts" but like, "replacement organs for people who don't heal Crippling", or "if you breed them you can try and aim for body mods/upgrades a few generations down the line." Or like, otherwise use them for biotech/medical purposes for people who can't or won't use Artifacts.
but "imma chop my own hand off to make an umbrella for you" is pretty cool too
HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Karnasthus Royal Sword Sect
In the southeastern Hundred Kingdoms, the lands of Karnasthus are ruled by the royal Anaxophi clan, known for their frankincense scented robes and oiled beards. The royal line has held the throne for two hundred years, a miracle in their particular stretch of the Hundred Kingdoms. Karnasthus has lost little territory to foreign conquests and has slowly but surely expanded its borders. It owes this success primarily to the Royal Sword Sect, an order of martial mystics in the service of the Anaxophi. Wielding their distinctive basket-hilted hook swords, the Royal Sect-Men, as they are called, have served as bodyguards, assassins, and elite infantry to the Anaxophi. The sect's personal art, Claw Strider Style, is believed to have evolved from Crane Style, and is far more aggressive than its predecessor, using flesh ripping slashes and sword-breaking techniques. The style's masters have enlightened their essence by undergoing the dangerous Strider-Devil-Way, inviting bestial claw strider avatars into their souls and ritually casting them out, gaining mystic resonance with the spirits' domain in the process. The sect's current leader, Grandmaster Manakaru Indyau, is a wizened old man who moves with astounding speed and strength despite his age. He wields the moonsilver relic blades known as the Inevitable Talons, a pair of artifact hook swords that are legendary throughout the Scavenger Lands. Such is the power of the Royal Sect-Men that they have served as a kingmaker faction in Karnasthus's royal court several times, protecting young monarchs from assassination and slaying offending members of rival factions. Grandmaster Manakaru currently serves as chief of the council of regents for the young Anaxophi Knosus, the twelve-year old child-king of Karnasthus.
In the southeastern Hundred Kingdoms, the lands of Karnasthus are ruled by the royal Anaxophi clan, known for their frankincense scented robes and oiled beards. The royal line has held the throne for two hundred years, a miracle in their particular stretch of the Hundred Kingdoms. Karnasthus has lost little territory to foreign conquests and has slowly but surely expanded its borders. It owes this success primarily to the Royal Sword Sect, an order of martial mystics in the service of the Anaxophi. Wielding their distinctive basket-hilted hook swords, the Royal Sect-Men, as they are called, have served as bodyguards, assassins, and elite infantry to the Anaxophi. The sect's personal art, Claw Strider Style, is believed to have evolved from Crane Style, and is far more aggressive than its predecessor, using flesh ripping slashes and sword-breaking techniques. The style's masters have enlightened their essence by undergoing the dangerous Strider-Devil-Way, inviting bestial claw strider avatars into their souls and ritually casting them out, gaining mystic resonance with the spirits' domain in the process. The sect's current leader, Grandmaster Manakaru Indyau, is a wizened old man who moves with astounding speed and strength despite his age. He wields the moonsilver relic blades known as the Inevitable Talons, a pair of artifact hook swords that are legendary throughout the Scavenger Lands. Such is the power of the Royal Sect-Men that they have served as a kingmaker faction in Karnasthus's royal court several times, protecting young monarchs from assassination and slaying offending members of rival factions. Grandmaster Manakaru currently serves as chief of the council of regents for the young Anaxophi Knosus, the twelve-year old child-king of Karnasthus.
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HamSandLich
MEAT WIZARD
- Location
- Somewhere in NOVA, possibly, maybe, presumably
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Dragonguard of The Paths of Hesiesh Triumphant
In the mountains east of Goldenseal resides the remote Immaculate Xima Lo Monastery, a fortified complex jutting from the side of an extinct volcano that towers over the surrounding jungle. The warrior-monks and lay residents of the monastery are the Dragonguard of The Paths of Hesiesh Trimuphant, a martial order founded to guard several demesnes and manses deemed sacred to Hesiesh. Their warrior monks go to battle in flame patterned scale armor and wearing robes covered in Immaculate calligraphy. Many of their sets of armor are potent artifacts, their evocations providing protection from the harsh environment and enabling their wearers to move as fast as burning winds and cover their surroundings in burning ash or toxic gases. In addition to the Immaculate Dragon Styles, many warrior monks are proficient in Righteous Devil style. Their ascetic practices involve meditating in the extreme heat of the southern sun and the demesnes they guard, communing with the primal essence of fire.
The Dragongaurd have long been the protectors of the surrounding village states, defending them from bandits, wyld barbarians, and the raksha in return for supplies and obeisance to the Immaculate Texts. The Order also guards tribute caravans from satrapies and pilgrims visiting holy sites across the far Southwest. When the Scarlet Empress reigned, the Dragonguard were exemplars of Immaculate piety and loyalty to the Realm, but now, the Realm rots from within. With the neighboring satrapies recalling more and more of their garrisons and the Mouth of Peace nearing death, the Dragonguard of the Paths find themselves more and more isolated from their homeland. Once merely custodians, they find themselves as the de facto rulers of their region, Xima Lo Monastery being only true source of the Realm's authority for miles. Some monks are uncomfortable with this reality, and try to remain aloof from the secular world as they always have. A few see the writing on the walls, that the Realm will soon descend into chaos and the faithful will have to forge their own paths in a new age of turmoil.
Slowly but surely, heresies are beginning to take root in the Dragonguard without their conscious notice. Hesiesh, their patron, is being revered with heterodox frequency and intensity, as are Pasiap and Mela. The monks have increased the tithes they ask of the locals and caravans, in case of civil war on the Blessed Isle cutting off their funding(or so they tell themselves). The local prayer calendar is being altered to favor spirits the Dragonguard have pacted with to defend caravans and towns. Their sacred calligraphy, once done in moderation, is beginning to consume more and more of their daily lives, some monks wearing clothing with every inch covered by devotional script. Legate-Abbot Mirthful Grin is developing a new martial arts style from visions he believes come from the Dragons themselves, naming his creation the Burning Veins Style, for it evokes the devastation of Hesiesh and Pasiap's primordial volcanism through overwhelming rushes and explosive haymakers.
In the mountains east of Goldenseal resides the remote Immaculate Xima Lo Monastery, a fortified complex jutting from the side of an extinct volcano that towers over the surrounding jungle. The warrior-monks and lay residents of the monastery are the Dragonguard of The Paths of Hesiesh Trimuphant, a martial order founded to guard several demesnes and manses deemed sacred to Hesiesh. Their warrior monks go to battle in flame patterned scale armor and wearing robes covered in Immaculate calligraphy. Many of their sets of armor are potent artifacts, their evocations providing protection from the harsh environment and enabling their wearers to move as fast as burning winds and cover their surroundings in burning ash or toxic gases. In addition to the Immaculate Dragon Styles, many warrior monks are proficient in Righteous Devil style. Their ascetic practices involve meditating in the extreme heat of the southern sun and the demesnes they guard, communing with the primal essence of fire.
The Dragongaurd have long been the protectors of the surrounding village states, defending them from bandits, wyld barbarians, and the raksha in return for supplies and obeisance to the Immaculate Texts. The Order also guards tribute caravans from satrapies and pilgrims visiting holy sites across the far Southwest. When the Scarlet Empress reigned, the Dragonguard were exemplars of Immaculate piety and loyalty to the Realm, but now, the Realm rots from within. With the neighboring satrapies recalling more and more of their garrisons and the Mouth of Peace nearing death, the Dragonguard of the Paths find themselves more and more isolated from their homeland. Once merely custodians, they find themselves as the de facto rulers of their region, Xima Lo Monastery being only true source of the Realm's authority for miles. Some monks are uncomfortable with this reality, and try to remain aloof from the secular world as they always have. A few see the writing on the walls, that the Realm will soon descend into chaos and the faithful will have to forge their own paths in a new age of turmoil.
Slowly but surely, heresies are beginning to take root in the Dragonguard without their conscious notice. Hesiesh, their patron, is being revered with heterodox frequency and intensity, as are Pasiap and Mela. The monks have increased the tithes they ask of the locals and caravans, in case of civil war on the Blessed Isle cutting off their funding(or so they tell themselves). The local prayer calendar is being altered to favor spirits the Dragonguard have pacted with to defend caravans and towns. Their sacred calligraphy, once done in moderation, is beginning to consume more and more of their daily lives, some monks wearing clothing with every inch covered by devotional script. Legate-Abbot Mirthful Grin is developing a new martial arts style from visions he believes come from the Dragons themselves, naming his creation the Burning Veins Style, for it evokes the devastation of Hesiesh and Pasiap's primordial volcanism through overwhelming rushes and explosive haymakers.
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- Location
- my house
My first custom Warstrider write-up using the rules I posted earlier this page:
The MK-22 All-in-One Armored Frame was an invention of the late Shogunate. Faced with increasing resources shortages the various Daimyo's could no longer afford to build specialized Warstriders for any given task and so turned instead to a modular design. Consisting of a simple jade-steel frame, and a single hearthstone slot the base MK-22 can move with outrun a horse, wields the strength of 10 men and is capable of operating at low power for an entire week or high power for an hour. Most impressivly, it is simple to repair and easy to modify. It's open source and modular design means that it can easily be customized for the riders needs. Armour can be bolted on for increased toughness, jumpjets added to increase manueverability. Additional hearthstones slots can be added for MK-22's which spend extensive time in the field. Grapplers can be added to move heavy loads. And all of this can be changed out as needed.
This modular design made the MK-22 extremely popular during the late Shogunate, and its simplicity means that it can still be produced, in very limited quantities, today. Consequently, it is the most common Warstrider for someone to encounter, even if it is often barely held together by spit and prayer.
Base Stats:
Str:10
Sta:10
Dex:3
App: 3
Power: 10 motes per scene of strenuous activity, 10 motes per week of light usage. Combat is always considered strenuous activity.
Maintenance Time: The MK-22 must spend 1 hour a week receiving regular maintenance.
Control Rating: 0
Soak: None
Sample MK-22
The "Dragon Scale" Warstrider is a variant of the venerable MK-22 design. Developed by the realm for Dragonblooded pilots in war, it prioritizes Essence usage and durability.
Base Stats:
Str:10
Sta:10
Dex:3
App: 3
Power: 10 motes per scene of strenuous activity, 10 motes per week day of light usage. Combat is always considered strenuous activity.
Maintenance Time: The MK-22 must spend 1 hour a week receiving regular maintenance.
Control Rating: 0
Soak: 15B/15L
Modules:
Essence battery: The Warstrider's hearthstone acts as a peripheral mote pool for the rider, allowing them to fuel their own charms off its essence.
Heavy Armor: The Warstirder is heavily armoured. It provides 15L/15B
Heavy Weapon: The Warstrider is equipped with a jadesteel weapon to match its size. The weapon has statistics of:
Speed: 5, Accuracy: +7, Damage: +6L, Defense: +4, Rate: 3, Overwhelming, Piercing, Reach
The MK-22 All-in-One Armored Frame was an invention of the late Shogunate. Faced with increasing resources shortages the various Daimyo's could no longer afford to build specialized Warstriders for any given task and so turned instead to a modular design. Consisting of a simple jade-steel frame, and a single hearthstone slot the base MK-22 can move with outrun a horse, wields the strength of 10 men and is capable of operating at low power for an entire week or high power for an hour. Most impressivly, it is simple to repair and easy to modify. It's open source and modular design means that it can easily be customized for the riders needs. Armour can be bolted on for increased toughness, jumpjets added to increase manueverability. Additional hearthstones slots can be added for MK-22's which spend extensive time in the field. Grapplers can be added to move heavy loads. And all of this can be changed out as needed.
This modular design made the MK-22 extremely popular during the late Shogunate, and its simplicity means that it can still be produced, in very limited quantities, today. Consequently, it is the most common Warstrider for someone to encounter, even if it is often barely held together by spit and prayer.
Base Stats:
Str:10
Sta:10
Dex:3
App: 3
Power: 10 motes per scene of strenuous activity, 10 motes per week of light usage. Combat is always considered strenuous activity.
Maintenance Time: The MK-22 must spend 1 hour a week receiving regular maintenance.
Control Rating: 0
Soak: None
Sample MK-22
The "Dragon Scale" Warstrider is a variant of the venerable MK-22 design. Developed by the realm for Dragonblooded pilots in war, it prioritizes Essence usage and durability.
Base Stats:
Str:10
Sta:10
Dex:3
App: 3
Power: 10 motes per scene of strenuous activity, 10 motes per week day of light usage. Combat is always considered strenuous activity.
Maintenance Time: The MK-22 must spend 1 hour a week receiving regular maintenance.
Control Rating: 0
Soak: 15B/15L
Modules:
Essence battery: The Warstrider's hearthstone acts as a peripheral mote pool for the rider, allowing them to fuel their own charms off its essence.
Heavy Armor: The Warstirder is heavily armoured. It provides 15L/15B
Heavy Weapon: The Warstrider is equipped with a jadesteel weapon to match its size. The weapon has statistics of:
Speed: 5, Accuracy: +7, Damage: +6L, Defense: +4, Rate: 3, Overwhelming, Piercing, Reach