[PF-1e] Yokai Conquest

[BlackDragon0]

I think I'm going to withdraw this is way to complicated. My phb doesn't have monsters or crazy stuff. And I don't understand anything here.

[SoftEmbers]

Understood. It's complex, for sure. Thanks for your interest, and good fortune to you.

[Seekr34]

Character Sheet: Garou the Half-elf - https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=95221
Character Sheet: Garou the Werewolf - https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=95227
Character Sheet: Garou the Dire Wolf - https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=95228
Name: Garou Sylas
Clan: Yokai Clan
Race: Werewolf (Naturallyborn Lycanthrope)
Class: Ranger
Alignment: CG
Deity: Desna
Personality: : Normally outgoing, there are times though, when he is quiet. He basically gets along with anyone, but there are times when he needs alone time. More at home in the forest than he is in a city. Too many people for him and if it ever gets out of what he is, well, chaos will issue. Small towns and villages are not too bad, but they, unlike the city, towns folks look out each other and wary of strangers. So he prefers to stay in the forests, coming to town when needing supplies or for bit of company.

Physical Traits: Standing at 6’2 with a medium build muscular body. Dressed all in brown with a bit of green and a bit of fur. He looks like any other human, except for his short even ears. He looks like we was born of the wild, with long light brown hair that is all tangled up in the back and untreated mustache and beard. His brown eyes gives that fierce look.Armed with two swords, a bow and a dagger sheathed at each thigh.

Background: Born in the wilderness, far from any establishments, Garou found he was a werewolf from his grandfather. Somehow his father was bypassed, although his senses heighten during a full moon. When Garou was born, his father knew right away and moved his family to the woods a few miles away from town.

Growing up, he took up the ranger profession, becoming one with the forest. He briefly thought of being a druid, but it just didn’t feel right. He became good at being a ranger and he would go in wolf form with his grandfather and roam the forest. Being a werewolf wasn’t so bad as some made it out to be, but his grandfather warned him that many of them have turned to evil or just roam alone. The family though, was from the Gaia tribe. They were the peaceful folks. It was from that old age that Garou got his name. From the old world, Garou means “werewolf”, and Sylas was an old name from the old world as well that his Grandfather had taken. It means “Of the forest”. When he asked his grandfather why give him a name that tells everyone what his. The old man just laughed saying that not many people know the name now and besides, it shows defiance and how proud you of what you are. Garou wasn’t sure he agreed with all that but he kept the name.

The only side effect was the moon. Because he wasn’t cursed, but a true lycanthrope, he could at times resist the urge to turn, but not always. When the times he was unable to, he hated the pain of changing, although he gotten used to it since he changed every time when he was growing up, he still didn’t like the feeling. Shifting on his own free will was better, it felt better and was quicker, and he enjoyed the form of the dire wolf. He felt free and powerful. In hybrid form, he felt more like a beast, a creature of the dark and while he took the form now and then when he needed to, he never liked the feeling. Sometimes he would forget to undo his items when changing back to human and his stuff would fall to the ground. That part was a pain the butt.

Then one day he, and just about everyone heard about a new monarch will soon be crowned, and The Conquest Games that is to be taken place. He talked to his grandfather about it as he knew it would be dangerous, but both agreed that while other creatures would be participating, Garou should also. It would show that not all werecreatures are bad. His parents was too thrilled but their son was old enough to do as he sees fit.

Mind/Body/or Spirit: Spirit

[MundayKnight]

Alden Callindral Name: Duke Alden Vestra Callindral Race: Unnerving Human Class: Flying Blade Swashbuckler 8/Thug Unchained rogue 1 Alignment: Chaotic Good Deity: Desna Clan: Mortal Style: Body style Appearance:Alden has the lean, athletic build of someone accustomed to movement. His dark hair is kept short but unruly, often brushed back with little care for style. His eyes are almost always covered by a mask both to shield them from the harsh light and to keep others from fleeing in terror for to meet his look is to gaze upon the infinite darkness of space before Desna filled it with light. Though his features are undeniably noble, they lack the haughty sharpness of his peers; instead, they carry a quiet, unassuming strength. His attire is practical but refined, favoring muted tones of blue and gray that blend with the dusk. His coat, a gift from a Desnan priest he met during his travels, is dark leather with faintly embossed constellations along the cuffs and collar. His starknives, polished but unadorned, are always within reach, a subtle reminder of the path he has chosen. He wears a mask when in towns or expecting to meet with others to avoid frightening them with his eyes. The black iron mask is studded with various precious gems to give the appearance of stars in the night sky. Personality: Alden’s reserved nature often leads others to underestimate him. He prefers to observe, taking in the details others might miss before offering his opinion. When he does speak, his words carry weight, often cutting to the heart of the matter with disarming clarity. While he values his independence, Alden is not a loner. He is fiercely loyal to those he calls friends, often placing their needs above his own. He believes deeply in fairness and freedom, traits that draw him into conflicts he might otherwise avoid. Though he does not seek the role of hero, he cannot abide cruelty or oppression, and his actions often speak louder than his words. Desna’s teachings resonate deeply with him. Her emphasis on freedom and the beauty of the journey aligns with his own values, though he rarely prays aloud. Instead, he finds his connection to her in the quiet moments beneath a starry sky, in the thrill of a perfectly thrown starknife, or in the fleeting smile of someone he has helped. He carries her symbol, a simple butterfly charm, tucked inside his coat, a private acknowledgment of the goddess who inspires him to keep moving forward. "The stars don’t care who you are or where you’re going. They just shine. Maybe that’s all we need to do too." - Duke Alden   The stars were always brighter outside the high walls of the Callindral estate. Alden remembered slipping out of the manor as a child, climbing the tallest hill on the grounds to sit beneath the vast tapestry of the night sky. Back then, he didn’t have words for the weight pressing down on him, the expectations, the carefully arranged future that stretched ahead like a gilded cage. But under the stars, with the cool night breeze against his face, it all seemed... lighter. His eyes hurt from even the dim light offered by the firmament above. The house guard refused to spar with him unless he covered his eyes and remained silent so he had asked his father for an iron mask with no eyes or mouth and was still getting used to the strange contraption. Alden had only seen seven summers that night but already he walked with the steady grace of his family and dueled men thrice his age. Court gossips spoke in hushed tones and furtive glances of how the Calindrals were enhancing their line with alchemy or magic needing something, anything, to explain the sheer terror or overwhelming awe that the scions of the warrior house commanded with a glance let alone the achievements their youths accomplished but the truth, as is so often the case, proved far simpler. His family pushed themselves to the limit of their abilities and their marriages were and always had been meticulously chosen to bring about the most adept offspring possible and Alden was the pinnacle of both their nature and their nurture. While the young child had sat staring into the night sky a most peculiar vision struck him. Motes of moonlight coalesced into the form of a butterfly whose wings left a trail of scintillating lights after only a few moments the light trails began to take on form. A crowned figure stood among a small crowd of silhouettes baring little resemblance to each other. The silhouettes formed a protective ring around the crowned figure and as the light trails continued to shift and grow he saw himself, decades older but himself all the same. The smile on his older face brought a smile to his own as the images began to fade like the memory of a dream.   The Callindral name carried weight. Lords and ladies whispered of their military acumen, their unwavering loyalty to the King or Queen, and their meticulous attention to propriety. Lord Davion Callindral, Alden's father, was the epitome of this legacy, a general who expected his son to follow in his footsteps with unswerving precision. Alden tried... at first. He excelled in the fencing lessons, his strikes crisp and calculated. He mastered the forms of court etiquette, his bows low and his words precise. He even endured the endless parade of noble suitors presented to him, each smiling sweetly and speaking of alliances. But none of it felt right. There was a restlessness in Alden, a quiet yearning he couldn’t name. It came to him hardest when he practiced with the family’s starknife, an old relic kept more for display than utility. The weapon’s unconventional design fascinated him, its balance, its grace. Unlike a rapier, which required rigid adherence to form, the starknife seemed to demand something more instinctual, more improvisational. Training with it felt... free. At eighteen, after yet another stifling banquet, Alden made his choice. He packed what he could carry, slipped his father's old starknife into his belt, and left the estate. He left no note, only empty rooms and broken promises. The next ruler would be chosen in ten years and he needed to be ready.   Alden stepped into the clearing, his boots barely making a sound on the packed dirt trail. Moonlight sifted through the canopy above, dappling the ground with faint silver. Around him, the bandits closed ranks, their numbers pressing in, a dozen men with blades drawn and grins plastered across their rough-hewn faces. The leader, a hulking brute with a face like worn leather and a jagged scar down one cheek, stood in the center. The man held a rusted sword resting casually on his shoulder. He grinned wide as he took a step forward, confidence radiating from him like the stink of ale. “Bad luck, friend,” the leader said, his voice a low growl. “Should’ve handed over your coin while you had the chance. Now we’re going to take it off your corpse.” Alden tilted his head slightly, his eyes closed but still he knew every detail of the men around him, could even hear the beat of their hearts quickening with excitement. Twelve men. A mix of weapons, mostly crude, ill-kept, but dangerous in the hands of determined brigands. Their stances spoke of bravado, but their movements were lazy, careless. They thought they had already won. The starknife spun once in his hand, the motion smooth, almost lazy. Alden’s expression didn’t change, his features calm, composed, almost indifferent. But his eyes... his eyes locked onto the leader’s and finally opened. Even in the dark of night the way his eyes drank the starlight cause a primordial terror to well up in their chests. In Alden's eyes there was not anger, not fear. Something colder. Something that stilled the air in the clearing and froze the blood in the men's veins. “I’m going to give you a chance,” Alden said quietly, his voice soft but cutting through the night like steel through silk. “Walk away.” The leader barked a laugh, loud and harsh, like a nervous dog. “Walk away? Look around, lad. You see what I’ve got here?” He gestured to his men with a sweep of his sword, the bandits slowly shrugging off their inexplicable terror. “Twelve blades against one. You think I’m scared of a little toy like that?” He nodded toward the starknife, his grin widening. Alden didn’t answer. He simply flicked his wrist. The starknife blurred through the air, a flash of silver in the moonlight, and the closest bandit cried out, his sword clattering to the ground as the blade carved a shallow line across his wrist. Before anyone could react, the starknife ricocheted off a tree trunk, striking the second bandit’s hand with a crack that sent his dagger spinning into the dirt. The weapon was back in Alden’s hand in the space of a breath, its crimson lined edge gleaming faintly as he settled into a relaxed stance. The clearing fell silent. Alden’s eyes swept over the group again, meeting the gaze of each man in turn. His expression remained calm, his movements unhurried, but the weight of his presence pressed down on them like a stormcloud ready to break. “Leave,” he said softly. The word was a whisper, but it carried more weight than any shouted threat. The bandits hesitated. Their bravado wavered, confidence bleeding away in the face of the calm, implacable man standing before them. One of them broke first, a wiry man near the back who took an unsteady step backward. “He’s not worth it,” the man muttered, glancing at the leader before retreating into the shadows. Another followed, then another, until the clearing was nearly empty. The leader stood alone, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white around the hilt of his blade. Alden took a step forward, his gaze never leaving the man’s face. The starknife spun once more in his hand, the motion as smooth and unhurried as before. “You can leave with them, no one will blame you.” Alden said quietly, his tone unchanged. “Or you can stay. Your choice.” For a moment, the leader stood frozen, his pride warring with the instinct for self-preservation. Then, with a growl of frustration he turned, stomping into the forest without another word. Alden watched him go, the tension in his shoulders easing as the clearing fell silent once more. He bent to retrieve the fallen blades, tossing them into the underbrush before wiping his starknife clean against his sleeve. The stars above shone faintly through the trees, their light steady and unchanging. Alden sheathed his weapon and turned back to the path, his movements as quiet and measured as before. Another step forward.

 

Defensive traits: 1: eternal hope
2: Cornered Fury
3: Fast healing 1
Feat/skill traits: 1: Flexible feat
2: Skilled
Offensive traits: 1: frightful gaze
2: kneecapper
3: terrifying croak
Other
Support traits: 1: blindsense 30 feet
2: see in darkness
Weakness: Light Blindness
Bonus due to weakness: Advanced Charisma.

Ultimate move: Star Struck: Give the character a frightening aura with an area of 5' per level around the character. Any enemies in the area must make a will save or be frightened, if they fail the save by more than 5 they will be panicked instead. DC: 10+1/2 Character level+Charisma modifier.

Character traits: Divine: Unsettling Presence (Old Cults)
Social: Shadow Whispers
Feats: B: Divine Fighting Technique (Way of the shooting star)
1: Combat Reflexes
3: Weapon Focus (Starknife)
4b: Dazzling Display
5: Startoss Style
7: Shatter Defenses
8b: Vicious Display
9: Frightening Ambush

[Clawsome]

If I understand correctly, A werewolf would be CR 2 and then could have 7 class levels or a Juvnile CLoud dragon would be CR 8 so get I level of a class? or none as you level up dragon itself? or am I off on this? No I dont want to be a cloud dragon . just an example

[SoftEmbers]

That is correct if you're going pure dragon and not dragon-related or creating something new.

[Clawsome]

On Were Creatures (Werewolves etc), do they keep equipment on them when they morph into hybrid form? and/or polymorph into wolf or bear or shark whatever there thing is?

[SoftEmbers]

Human to hybrid no, but either to animal form, yes.

[Ermine]

Is there a reason you're not doing the normal custom race rules with a higher race point cost? Not saying change it for me or anything (since I don't know if I'll even apply), but I'm curious.

[SoftEmbers]

I felt they would cause more restrictions than I wanted.

[Ermine]

That makes sense. ^~^

[Ermine]

Okay, thinking of a concept. But would an ult that was just "channel energy, but healing all allies and hurting all enemies" be fair? Or too weak? Same amount as a regular channel for that level, or maybe like 1d6 per level instead of 1d6 per 2 levels?

Also, can we make favored class bonuses (using existing ones as a template)?

We can determine what our creature type is? So I could, say, have "humanoid (kitsune, shapechanger)" as my type? (Just an example, PROBABLY not doing it)

If I went with Alchemist for class, could I make a homebrew alchemist discovery? Specifically Inscribe Alchemical Tattoo: This functions identically to Inscribe Magical Tattoo, but you can use extracts in addition to spells for spell prerequisites, your tattoos are considered alchemical items, and you treat your ranks in Craft (Alchemy) as your caster level. You must use Craft (Alchemy) to inscribe your alchemical tattoos. You must be at least 6th level and have the Infusion discovery to select this discovery.

Is variant multiclass an option?

[Clawsome]

Sorry so many questions.

On Were Creatures (Werewolves etc), do they keep equipment on them when they morph into hybrid form? and/or polymorph into wolf or bear or shark whatever there thing is?

Human to hybrid no, but either to animal form, yes.

So you lose equipment and magic items when you go hybrid? does it drop off or? Understand melding when polymorphed.

Great questions Ermine.

Also, can we make favored class bonuses (using existing ones as a template)?

Since most won't be listed as typical races.

Isnt the Ultimate power a 1/day thing or can it be more ie. as Ermine stated a charged thing many times a day Or ie permanent thing like immune to poison, fire etc. Innate casting, innate touch turn to stone etc, etc.

[Seekr34]

Hmm, I would think while their belongings melds with their animal form, I think they would probably have to release their items if they go from human to hybrid since hybrid form is bigger and some things would probably break due to the size like belts, belts that holds their swords, etc. Which kind sucks but it is what it is. Having to dump their stuff each time before going from human to hybrid gonna be interesting.

[SoftEmbers]

The mass channel energy for all enemies and allies in an area at 1d6 per level is fair. Not a bad ultimate at all. Simple.

Yes, you can.

Yes, you can determine creature type.

Yes, you can make alchemical tattoos a thing.

Variant multiclass is open to players.

Seekr34 is right about lycanthrope form changes.

Ultimates don't have to be a one time use power. You can choose to be immune to fire and gain a power-up when hit by fire spells or absorb fire for example. You can have a permanent effect like everything you touch turns to gold for example.