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The Cadaverous Earth

Started by Steerpike, October 30, 2008, 10:58:14 PM

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Steerpike

Just a weird, random idea, added to the diseases section...

Rune-Rash

This bizarre condition is quite common in Moroi and other locales in which large amounts of witchcraft are practiced, such as the Hexwarren district of Macellaria.  Rune-Rash usually afflicts spellcasters, and so is sometimes known as 'witchrot' or 'sorcerer's sores.'  Rune-Rash is a memetic, eldritch parasite transferred when a certain arcane formula is read by someone fluent in Hextongue, the glyph-language of witchcraft: those non-fluent in the language are effectively immune to the Rash's effects.  Upon reading the 'infected' symbols '" which have been found in certain ancient grimoires and have since been replicated, sometimes in graffiti form '" the reader has a risk of contracting the Rash; 'skim' reading the formula seems to carry a lesser risk of infection, whereas thorough study virtually guarantees it.

Once infected, the reader at first notices nothing; gradually, however, a strange skin-affliction begins to affect the victim, manifesting as a series of subcutaneous Hextongue runes, which gradually spread until the sufferer's body is covered in arcane formulae and becomes effectively contagious, since anyone 'reading' their body carries a risk of contracting the disease.  Fortunately, a simple dispel hex or potion totally erases the glyphs, effectively curing the Rune-Rash.  Because of the ease and availability of treatment, few cases become serious: however, in the advanced stages of Rune-Rash, the victim begins to suffer a strange, overpowering compulsion to further reproduce the formula, seizing any nearby writing material and immediately copying the runes down seemingly from memory and even engraving the glyphs on walls or other surfaces, such as furniture.  In extreme cases Rune-Rash victims deprived of other surfaces to write upon will attack living beings and attempt to cut runes into their flesh.  They also begin muttering in Hextongue in a manner similar to that of a Gibbergeist, albeit more coherently than those jabbering grave-spawn.  However, Rune-Rash only becomes dangerous if left untreated.

If the Rune-Rash is invoked as a spell all written material within a hundred feet is instantaneously transformed, becoming a copy or series of copies of the infected glyphs.  One (perhaps apocryphal) tale tells of a witch who foolishly cast the Rune-Rash formula in his library and so corrupted over a thousand valuable scrolls and spellbooks.  Wards and protective sigils bound to grimoires appear to protect against this effect, fortunately.

Nomadic

Quote from: SteerpikeJust a weird, random idea, added to the diseases section...

Rune-Rash

This bizarre condition is quite common in Moroi and other locales in which large amounts of witchcraft are practiced, such as the Hexwarren district of Macellaria.  Rune-Rash usually afflicts spellcasters, and so is sometimes known as 'witchrot' or 'sorcerer's sores.'  Rune-Rash is a memetic, eldritch parasite transferred when a certain arcane formula is read by someone fluent in Hextongue, the glyph-language of witchcraft: those non-fluent in the language are effectively immune to the Rash's effects.  Upon reading the 'infected' symbols '" which have been found in certain ancient grimoires and have since been replicated, sometimes in graffiti form '" the reader has a risk of contracting the Rash; 'skim' reading the formula seems to carry a lesser risk of infection, whereas thorough study virtually guarantees it.

Once infected, the reader at first notices nothing; gradually, however, a strange skin-affliction begins to affect the victim, manifesting as a series of subcutaneous Hextongue runes, which gradually spread until the sufferer's body is covered in arcane formulae and becomes effectively contagious, since anyone 'reading' their body carries a risk of contracting the disease.  Fortunately, a simple dispel hex or potion totally erases the glyphs, effectively curing the Rune-Rash.  Because of the ease and availability of treatment, few cases become serious: however, in the advanced stages of Rune-Rash, the victim begins to suffer a strange, overpowering compulsion to further reproduce the formula, seizing any nearby writing material and immediately copying the runes down seemingly from memory and even engraving the glyphs on walls or other surfaces, such as furniture.  In extreme cases Rune-Rash victims deprived of other surfaces to write upon will attack living beings and attempt to cut runes into their flesh.  They also begin muttering in Hextongue in a manner similar to that of a Gibbergeist, albeit more coherently than those jabbering grave-spawn.  However, Rune-Rash only becomes dangerous if left untreated.

If the Rune-Rash is invoked as a spell all written material within a hundred feet is instantaneously transformed, becoming a copy or series of copies of the infected glyphs.  One (perhaps apocryphal) tale tells of a witch who foolishly cast the Rune-Rash formula in his library and so corrupted over a thousand valuable scrolls and spellbooks.  Wards and protective sigils bound to grimoires appear to protect against this effect, fortunately.

Sounds like the creation of a depraved eldritch prankster... I love it.

Oh btw I have something to say I am sure you will enjoy. Awhile back I showed my friend The CBG as I was talking with him about my setting. On his own he apparently started reading other settings and he ABSOLUTELY loves your settings (and your writing style in general). I was showing him your tempter stuff today and after I read him the intro paragraph on the tempter page he was applauding. So you have at least one fan you didn't know about.

TheMeanestGuest

I wasn't entirely sure what thread to post this in, but I think it might be slightly better placed here.

I decided to write another short story about Kaius, as I've grown more interested in him as a character. I think this got away from me a bit, but ended up being decent. It's a bit longer than I'd have liked. Read at your own peril.

This is about six months after Lady Genevieve's exile from Somnambulon. I didn't exactly explain the present circumstances in the story, so, basically Lady Genevieve is running a quasi legal fashion house (among other things) in Skein. She's not licensed to sell her products in the city, but I figure there's a lot of money to be made off clothing and silk.
 

Edit: The formatting got kind of screwed up on the forum, but I can't get it to look right =\ I'll fiddle with it tomorrow. For now I've just seperated everything.

 [ic=Fashion Faux Pas]
Eight Years Ago,

Skein

Perched precariously on the bank of the Radula at the southern edge of the Violet Ward, painted in a garrish mix of colours, the manse of Lady Genevieve resembled nothing less than a grotesque bird preparing to take flight. Of late it had been uncharacteristically quiet, and this deep in the night barely a sound emanated from the grounds. Standing on the lower tier of His Lady's dais, Kaius had a perfect view of the floor of the main hall. A few remaining hangers-on lay scattered about, draped over divans and cushions, smoking from hookahs or conversing quietly among themselves. A string quartet played faintly in a corner. After observing the changing fashions of Skein for many months from this very spot, Kaius considered himself lucky His Lady gave some consideration to practicality in the dress of her servants. Still, bedecked in a yellow and black diamond checkered brigandine and cloak Kaius longed for his own armour. Most troublesome of all was the obnoxious feather that drooped from his beret which he constantly had to blow out of the way. 'Kaius' Lady Genevieve called softly.

   Kaius turned;'Yes, My Lady?' he responded. Ensconced atop a shifting mound of pillows His Lady looked at him wistfully. Her angular face and high cheekbones were framed by long tresses of scarlet hair. Her slim but curvaceous figure was emphasized by a diaphanous dress of her own design. Baring her breasts, the red silk spiraled down her midriff and legs in sheer coils. She gave him a cryptic smile.  

   'Bernadette has returned with our.. guest. Would you please clear the hall?' said Lady Genevieve. She clapped impishly.
 
   'At once, My Lady.' Kaius followed with a salute of hand to heart. Kaius turned again, his three fellow Insomnolent - accoutred in similar discomfort - had half twisted towards him from their positions in front of the dais. 'Eugenie, Maximillian, Amelia. Direct the hirelings, clear the floor' the three Guards saluted in turn to Kaius. Sweeping out across the hall they issued a succession of hand signals. The hired guards left their positions near the entrances and detached themselves from the walls and began to assist the Insomnolent in herding Lady Genevieve's guests out the two side doors. In a few short moments, the last of the stragglers were making their exit. The hirelings returned to their postings and, at a gesture from Kaius, the three Insomnolent arrayed themselves by the central doors. Kaius glanced towards Lady Genevieve; she seemed pensive. The mahogany paneled doors opened slowly with a groan, as if in protest at what they were about to admit. In strode the two Whispers: Bernadette and her younger brother, Emery.  Before them walked a girl who could not have been more than nine. She wore a simple lacy white dress. A sinuous silver length of chain held by Emery was secured about her wrists; Bernadette drove her forwards with a beautiful long-barreled pepperbox leveled directly at her head. As the new arrivals stopped a respectful distance from the dais, the Guardsmen took up positions behind them. Bernadette saluted and looked up adoringly at Lady Genevieve.
   
'Lamia' Lady Genevieve said simply. She sipped calmly from a crystal wineglass.   

'Genevieve' the girl responded. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of being dragged here by your pets?' her voice echoed strangely, far too powerful to have come from such a small creature.

   'Come now, we think we both know the reasons.' she laughed airily.  Her composure shifted suddenly. 'You tried to fucking fleece us!' she shrieked. Kaius gritted his teeth against the noise. She relaxed. 'But there's no reason we can't work this out. Just return what you made off our silk.' Lady Genevieve smiled amicably. 'Or would you like us to inform the magisters of your continued existence? I'm sure they would be most displeased to hear of that, and all too happy to rectify it' she arched an eyebrow. The girl, Lamia, giggled.

   'Oh, Genevieve.' she giggled again 'You think I still have it? You'd think I'd give it to you if I did? As for those pathetic magisters -' Lady Genevieve raised an index finger to her lower lip and spat a searing gob of flame at Lamia. The five Insomnolent surrounding her barely had time to dive out of the way. As the girl was enveloped Kaius's revolver had already leaped to his hand, he fired six shots quickly into the conflagration. 'You bitch!' Lamia cried.

   Kaius dropped his revolver. The lights dimmed. Lady Genevieve sprung from her throne of cushions as it was torn apart by dozens of razor-sharp lances of shadow stuff. Pirouetting in the air, she twirled her rapier about her as she landed, spitting flames, but was quickly occluded by a whirling mass of shadows. His revolver hit the ground. Cries of terror rose from the hirelings but were quickly and wetly silenced. Kaius had jumped from the dais, rolling off a nearby divan. Two bolts of shadow whistled through the air where his head had been seconds previously. The five other Insomnolent were fighting in a close knot; Amelia's cloak was aflame as she grappled with a shadow homunculus. Coming out of his roll Kaius threw a dagger at Lamia; she stepped out of the way neatly and grinned contemptuously at Kaius. He surged forward, cutting deftly with his longsword through a homunculus that tried to bear him down. Another lashed at him with its claws of vicious insubstance, he ducked, his sword cleaving through its legs. Panicked at how quickly Kaius was advancing, Lamia wove an impenetrable web of lashing tendrils about her. The last gap in her defence was closing. Kaius vaulted off a chair and dove headfirst through the too-quickly vanishing hole; lacerations opened on his legs as the tendrils grasped at him. Lamia's eyes widened as Kaius's sword drove straight for her neck; a silent gasp played across her lips. Her eyes changed. Before he could process the action Kaius had moved his sword arm almost imperceptibly to the right. He sheared through one of the girl's brown locks. The lights hummed as they returned to full brightness; Kaius clattered to the floor. Bawling, the girl crumpled next to him.

    Almost instantly Lady Genevieve was there beside them, holding the girl roughly by the chin she looked into her eyes; Lady Genevieve hissed.  'The bitch was too cowardly to experience her body's death. Kaius, dispose of this. There's no telling what it might remember.'

   'My Lady? She is but a child.' Kaius sputtered, taken aback, as he picked himself up.

        'Kaius.' there was a warning tone in His Lady's voice, barely restrained anger danced in her eyes.

   'Yes, My Lady. Immediately.' Kaius glanced at the sobbing girl. 'Well, come on then.' He reached down to take her hand. The girl proved recalcitrant, so he hoisted her onto his shoulder with a sigh. Pointedly ignoring the glances of his wounded comrades, Kaius retrieved his revolver and gingerly stepped around the bodies littering the hall, leaving through one of the side doors. Servants and guests of His Lady looked at him questioningly as he walked down the hallway, but said nothing. The girl had fallen asleep. He marched through the kitchen, the chef waved at him confusedly over the beginnings of breakfast spread before himself; Kaius answered with a slight nod. Exiting into the yard, he took a deep breath of the cool early morning air. Strolling lazily over to the river wall he looked into the fast flowing water. He hesitated while reaching for his revolver. Looking over at the girl's face he noticed she was awake.

   'Hello' she said shyly. Kaius sighed heavily and let his reaching arm slacken. 'You saved me from the wicked lady.' her cheeks were flushing. She looked away, embarrassed. 'Mummy always says proper ladies aren't supposed to cry.'

   Kaius furrowed his brow seriously. 'Well, in this case I think she might be able to understand. You've been through a lot.' he said.
 
   'Mummy is never very understanding..' she mumbled. Her face suddenly lit up. 'My name's Sarah! What's yours?'

   'Well, Sarah, I'm -'

   'Lady Sarah' she interrupted officiously.

   'Lady Sarah, I am Kaius Alexander, at your service.' he smiled as he lowered her to the ground.
'Now, My Lady, I think its about time we got you home. Your family must be horribly worried.'

   Sarah sniffled loudly.    'I don't know where Mummy and Daddy are!' she wailed 'I can't remember much at all. The wicked lady took me away so very long ago. She said I'd never see them ever again.' Sarah looked like she was about to cry again.'I'm sorry, Mr. Kaius. You must think me a terrible baby. I.. I have an Aunty, she lives in the Azure Ward!'

     'My Lady, I swear to you that I shall assist you however I may in your return to your relations. Come, we have spent too much time standing around here.' Kaius scanned the yard as he stood up ; Sarah nodded sagely. There did not seem to be anyone about. Sarah clutched at his gauntleted hand as he led her towards the back gate.

   'Going somewhere, lover?' the last word was dragged out. Bernadette dropped lithely off the low wall that surrounded the compound. She grinned fiercely as she pulled the hood of her black cloak back, revealing her short cropped brown hair. The leather harness cinching her blackened scale shirt creaked slightly as she advanced towards him. Sarah hid behind Kaius's leg. 'Disobeying Our Lady?Naughty, Kaius.' Bernadette purred.

   'We are not involved, Bernadette. And you are not involved in this. Step aside.' said Kaius. Bernadette pouted.

   'You always know how to disappoint a woman, Kaius.' she said. Kaius made to move past her. He saw her glance over his shoulder. Locking his arm around Bernadette's throat, Kaius turned. He ripped the dagger out of her hand as she freed it from its sheathe. Sarah squealed. He just noticed the low whistling sound and barely managed to catch the projectile with his free hand before it sank into his face. Hurling the paralytic dart back at its origin, Emery staggered out of the shadows clutching at it as it protruded from his neck before loosely collapsing in a heap. Kaius tightened his grip.

   'I told you to step aside, Bernadette.' he said. Kaius lowered her gently to the ground as she lapsed into unconsciousness. He quickly hustled Sarah out of the gate and into the alley.
 
   'Mr. Kaius! You shouldn't go around hurting people like that.' Sarah intoned seriously, hands on her hips.
 
   'Lady Sarah, you have my apologies. But it was necessary for your safety. I did not injure them grievously. They are merely sleeping, and will be up shortly. So we had best move on quickly' said Kaius.

   'I suppose I can forgive you. If you did it for me.' she said as she smiled up at him. It was getting lighter as they walked out of the alley. Sarah blinked in astonishment at the unfamiliar architecture and cleverly suggestive, though artfully wrought, signage that advertised for the various businesses along the street.
 
   'Mr. Kaius, where are we?' she asked.

   'My Lady. I regret to say that this is the Violet Ward.' he answered.

   'Oh no. Daddy will be horribly cross if he finds out.' Sarah's face had turned bright red.

   'Then for your safety and dignity, we shall make our exit quickly.' he assured her. As they headed towards their destination Sarah chatted idly, expressing immense curiosity in Kaius's own childhood and the Sleepwalker's City. He gladly informed her of what he could, though of necessity left out the majority of his story. As they neared the Azure Ward Kaius began to notice people staring pointedly at them. At first he dismissed it, but quickly it began to worry at him. His concern had reached a fever pitch by the time citizens began to filter off the street.'Lady Sarah, you must forgive me, but I fear that I may be unable to fulfill my promise to deliver you to your kin.' said Kaius as he glanced about uneasily. Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but never had the opportunity. A group of automata belonging to the Watch had rumbled across the next intersection.

   'HALT MALCONTENT' an indeterminate automata bellowed mechanically. 'YOU ARE ACCUSED OF KIDNAPPING AND OTHER SUNDRY CRIMES. REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE FOR SUMMARY JUDGEMENT' Kaius turned, but the previous intersection was similarly blocked by men of the Watch and their machines. Kaius sprinted for a nearby alley. The automata reacted immediately, throwing themselves into motion. Sarah chased after him.

   'Wait!' she cried. 'Please don't hurt him, he rescued me!' When they arrived at the mouth of the alley he had already vanished.  
[/ic]

Sooo, yeah. I didn't really intend to introduce Sarah as a character. I don't plan things out before I write them, maybe I should! I've never tried to write a child in anything before, I hope I wasn't horrendously patronizing. Sarah is kind of naive, but I figure that wouldn't be all that surprising coming from a sheltered magister's daughter. Incidentally, her parents were most certainly murdered by Lamia. She doesn't really remember much of her possession, nor does she understand what happened. She was convinced Lamia had physically absconded with her, rather than possessing her. I figure writing a catatonic character would be kind of boring and depressing.
Let the scholar be dragged by the hook.

TheMeanestGuest

I am sure Steerpike appreciates your clever input, spambot.

Weird, that's the first one I've ever seen here.
Let the scholar be dragged by the hook.

Steerpike

Two new races/creatures (one rather similar to Cataclysmic Crow's Swarm Gods, admittedly...):

Writhelings

Also called blattarians (as they term themselves), metamorphs, and soul-eaters, writhelings are sometimes considered grave-spawn because of their grotesque appearance, though in fact they are hideously alive.  In their true forms they appear as seething swarms of insects very similar to cockroaches, albeit with larger mandibles.  Writhelings are accomplished shapeshifters, however, and rarely assume their natural forms, preferring to counterfeit those of other beings.  Writhelings cannot simply adopt the form of any creature they wish, however: they choose from a repertoire of forms which they amass by devouring other beings alive.  Consuming a corpse is inadequate; a writheling's victim must die while being eaten for the writheling to later assume their semblance.  Writhelings are perfect mimics, however '" there are no physical 'tells' or other indications that a being is actually a writheling.  However, as writhelings are actually a mass or swarm of creatures possessing a hive-mind as opposed to an individual entity, they have a tendency to refer to themselves in the plural rather than the singular.  While most of the time they are able to maintain their façade a flustered or inattentive writheling may slip up and expose itself by referring to itself as 'we,' though only a keen listener will pick up the error.
   
Writhelings do not reproduce in their natural forms but rather breed while transformed.  Offspring of one writheling and one non-writheling parent are full writhelings: though born in the semblance of their non-writheling parent they quickly discover their shapeshifting abilities, usually adopting their swarm shape six months to a year after birth.

Conspiracy theories abound as to the secret plots of writhelings abound.  Those who endorse such rumours often claim that many of the most powerful individuals in the Twilight Cities have been replaced by writheling doppelgangers working to bring the civilized world under their clandestine control.  Whether or not there is any truth to these stories, it is true that writhelings frequently devour and replicate the forms of those in positions of authority or luxury.  Because of these rumours, writhelings are shunned and actively persecuted, much as eidolons are.  Only in the cosmopolitan chaos of Crepuscle, the catacombs of Macellaria, and some of the more libertine districts of Lophius can writhelings openly display their true natures.

Sheevra

The dwindling descendents of the city of Ker-Iz on the fabled Isle of Dusk off the Serrated Coast in the Fevered Ocean, the race known as the Sheevra has become diluted from centuries of human-Sheevra couplings, such that there are no pure-blooded Sheevra left, and those who do claim Sheevra ancestry look almost entirely human, betrayed only by their luminous green-gold eyes and a faint golden shimmer and pale glow to their skin, an attribute that has earned them the name of 'Tawny Folk.'  In millennia long past, the citadel-metropolis of Ker-Iz was the most beautiful city in the world, though its gates were shut to all but the Sheevra.  An aloof and secretive people driven by wild desires and intensely sybaritic impulses, the hedonistic Sheevra might have conquered the known world with their natural eldritch talents; even at its height the cestoid Imperium itself never penetrated the ensorcelled walls of Ker-Iz.  Some have suggested that the Sorcerer Kings of old are the progenitors of the Sheevra, having joined their lineage with demons, oneiroi, or some other manner of spirit.

Disgusted with the notion of conquest, the Sheevra preferred the pursuit of pleasure to power, indulging in every conceivable desire, and a few inconceivable to all but the Sheevra themselves.  Labour was unnecessary for them, for the race was and is gifted with extraordinary inborn arcane talent, their blood mingled with pure numina, whose glow gives them their distinctive sheen.  While disinterested in the scholarly witchcraft of humans and other species, the Sheevra's natural abilities allowed them to conjure the servants and resources they needed to live their luxurious, decadent lives.  All of this changed, however, when Ker-Iz was suddenly swallowed by the Fevered Ocean, pulled beneath the waves in a single cataclysmic surge that tore down the crystalline walls with their battlements of ethereal glass stronger than glyph-etched steel or ur-bone, flooded the winding, half-sentient streets, and toppled the iridescent towers.  The exact reason for this disaster is still a mystery, but most believe the destruction of Ker-Iz to be the work of the vengeful beast-gods punishing the Sheevra for some broken pact or other, ancient wrongdoing.  The jatayi fablers speak of crustacean abominations stalking the mutable streets and tentacled horrors tearing down buildings, of a molluscoid warlord and his barnacle-studded retinue rampaging through the Glass Gardens and shattering the columns of the Dreaming Dome whose oneiric gems have been scattered across the Earth.  The Shreeva fought back with now-forgotten Arts, their cavalry wheeling on the backs of sphinxes, mood-lances slinging bolts of sorrow, but in the end the city fell, claimed by the cold and merciless sea.

Now, the Sheevra are an all but extinct race.  Some few of the survivors forged a fell contract with a demoniac prince and transformed themselves into the first eidolons, or so the lore-keepers whisper.  The rest chose a life of vagabondage, becoming noble exiles - mercenaries and gutter-witches, sensual flaneurs, addicts, beggars with glittering eyes.  Restless and melancholy from birth for a homeland none of their remaining ilk can still remember, the Sheevra are both drawn to and repelled by the society of other sentient beings.  Though their bloodline has been corrupted the descendents of the Sheevra still live for several centuries, and some spend decades wandering alone or else secreted in solitary hermitages.  At other times Sheevra throw themselves into fresh debaucheries to fight back against their vague sorrow.

I envision the Sheevra at least as playable.  Here are some rough stats:

Sheevra Traits

Fey: Shreeva are Fey, not humanoids.

+2 Charisma, -2 Strength: Sheevra are exquisitely beautiful but physically frail.

Base Speed 30 ft.

Low Light Vision (2x)

Drowsy: Like cats, Sheevra require large amounts of sleep.  If they do not get 10 hours of sleep in a given night they cannot cast spells the following day, and must make a Fortitude save (DC 20 - the number of hours they did sleep) or be fatigued.

-4 Hide: Sheevra have slightly luminous eyes and skin, making it difficult for them to conceal themselves.

+2 racial bonus to Will saves against spells or spell-like abilities.

+2 racial bonus to Witchcraft [Spellcraft] checks.

Spell-Like Abilities: 1/day a Sheevra can cast Hexsight [Detect Magic], Light, and Resistance as a first level caster.

Sheevra get a Background trait but do not select an additional trait.

Favoured Class: Witch.  Note: Shreeva witches prepare and cast spells as 3.5 Sorcerers rather than Wizards, casting spells spontaneously and using Charisma rather than Intelligence.

Automatic Languages: Shambles, two bonus languages.

Ghostman

How complete a transformation is the writhelings' shapeshifting ability? Do they only look like the creature they're imitating, or do they actually take on fleshly forms with functional organs? If a transformed writheling is cut, will it bleed convincingly?
¡ɟlǝs ǝnɹʇ ǝɥʇ ´ʍopɐɥS ɯɐ I

Paragon * (Paragon Rules) * Savage Age (Wiki) * Argyrian Empire [spoiler=Mother 2]

* You meet the New Age Retro Hippie
* The New Age Retro Hippie lost his temper!
* The New Age Retro Hippie's offense went up by 1!
* Ness attacks!
SMAAAASH!!
* 87 HP of damage to the New Age Retro Hippie!
* The New Age Retro Hippie turned back to normal!
YOU WON!
* Ness gained 160 xp.
[/spoiler]

Steerpike

Full and complete transformation.  Physically, they're totally indistinguishable from the creature they devoured.

EDIT: Are the Sheevra too weak stat-wise?  Would giving them SR of 11+ class level give them an LA?

LD

I was thinking maybe upping the base speed to 40 or 50 ft. to counter the problem re: strength and the fact that they cannot hide to escape predators.

Ghostman

As written the race is only really good at being witches (and perhaps bards too). But they make rather powerful spellcasters due to the +2 on the casting stat. Giving them spell resistance might make them a bit too strong with optimal class. Perhaps you could give them some innate spells or spell-like abilities? Something that would be eventually obsoleted for spellcasting classes as they gain higher levels, but would remain a useful aid to non-spellcasting classes.
¡ɟlǝs ǝnɹʇ ǝɥʇ ´ʍopɐɥS ɯɐ I

Paragon * (Paragon Rules) * Savage Age (Wiki) * Argyrian Empire [spoiler=Mother 2]

* You meet the New Age Retro Hippie
* The New Age Retro Hippie lost his temper!
* The New Age Retro Hippie's offense went up by 1!
* Ness attacks!
SMAAAASH!!
* 87 HP of damage to the New Age Retro Hippie!
* The New Age Retro Hippie turned back to normal!
YOU WON!
* Ness gained 160 xp.
[/spoiler]

Llum

40 or 50ft seems pretty fast as a base speed. They don't really seem weak to me as is. I gather they almost always have some kind of eldritch talent? Maybe something about their glow that distracts the eye, giving them +1 to an active defense bonus? Is that too much?

Steerpike

Added some spell-like abilities... they would certainly make excellent casters or charismatic types, and fairly terrible warriors.  They're intended kind of as similar to the Numenoreans (Tolkien), Melniboneans (Moorcock), or Altmer (Elder Scrolls).

LordVreeg

Quote from: SteerpikeAdded some spell-like abilities... they would certainly make excellent casters or charismatic types, and fairly terrible warriors.  They're intended kind of as similar to the Numenoreans (Tolkien), Melniboneans (Moorcock), or Altmer (Elder Scrolls).
I'm pleased that I am sufficiently geeked out that I did not blink and merely nodded.

These strange, eldritch exiles, do they have goals?  Who were they allied with?  Is there a grouping of them anywhere?
VerkonenVreeg, The Nice.Celtricia, World of Factions

Steel Island Online gaming thread
The Collegium Arcana Online Game
Old, evil, twisted, damaged, and afflicted.  Orbis non sufficit.Thread Murderer Extraordinaire, and supposedly pragmatic...\"That is my interpretation. That the same rules designed to reduce the role of the GM and to empower the player also destroyed the autonomy to create a consistent setting. And more importantly, these rules reduce the Roleplaying component of what is supposed to be a \'Fantasy Roleplaying game\' to something else\"-Vreeg

Steerpike

Too scattered for real communities; perhaps here and there a small enclave within a larger city.  They have goals, certainly, but without a stable society of their own, those goals are either tied to a power other than their own or (more commonly) they're purely personal.  Godless, homeless, mingling power and weakness, filled with a drive to connect with others coupled with revulsion at those around them, vain and egotistical yet too lazy for intellectual or scholarly pursuits, most Shreeva fill their lives with hollow pleasures of the flesh.  Long-term relationships are difficult for Shreeva to form and sustain, partly because of their long lifespans, though one might imagine a Shreeva/ghul pairing, if the Shreeva could overcome his or her natural disgust and the ghul could tolerate the Shreeva's boisterousness (ghilan in general being rather more sedate and reserved than the quick).  A few Shreeva might flirt with death in an attempt to fill the emptiness of their existence, throwing themselves into danger.  Others might manage the patience required to create works of art, probably with the aid of witchcraft.  Theirs is the way of the blood, not the brain.  They're intended, principally, as tragic characters.

An interesting twist might be to have a messianic Shreeva obsessed with the idea of building a new Ker-Iz and restoring his/her race to its former glory.  He/she might travel in search of his/her ilk in order to gather the dispersed remnants of the race.  Could be an interesting character, with a good excuse for adventuring.

Kindling

Two things:

Can Baranauskas persist as an archaic name for Macellaria that is still wrongly used by some people in the more distant cities? I just like the word and don't want it to vanish from the setting. It could be kind of like I hear a lot of people here (the UK) accidentally calling the Czech Republic Czechoslovakia.

Secondly, in your Blood and Bewitchment logs, wine gets mentioned a few times. Where does it come from? I can't think of a single region of CE that I can imagine being a good place for a vinyard.
all hail the reapers of hope

Steerpike

Sure, Baranauskas can be an archaic name, like Byzantium/Constantinople.

Wine I was imagining being produced in the regions around Skein and Crepuscle, which aren't quite as barren as other regions and which aren't as infested with monsters (they're still weird and filled with old ruins and stuff, they're just not quite in the Slaughter-lands proper) - so basically the northwestern parts of the world would be the principal wine producers.  There might also be scattered vineyards around the southern cities, growing grapes suited to the more arid conditions, but those would be rarer.  The far northern cities and Moroi probably wouldn't produce much in the way of wine, but they might import it.

Lophius is pretty swampy... not sure how well grapes would do there.