spoilers: he never finished reviewing the book

Changing Breeds Part XV: Ha Ha Ha! Birdmen.

This is gonna be a big one, folks.

The opening fiction for the Wing-Folk section actually shows some promise and creepiness compared to the standard this book has set, with a mortally wounded soldier seeing an ethereal nurse at the foot of his bed who resembled a nurse on staff, except for the fact that her arms split into wings of hundreds of feathery arms and hands, which she uses to choke him to death in an embrace, the beating of wings the last thing he hears as she carries him to the afterlife.

The book talks about the roles birds and bats have taken in mythology, from psychopomps to heralds to omens to tricksters to embodiments of fate to embodiments of good or evil. The book raises an interesting point that man is still, on some level, averse to killing birds as rampantly or directly as other animals. Those we kill or consume on a regular basis are normally flightless or 'pests' and prey animals to other birds, and it's actually against the law to hunt, kill, or otherwise harm many predatory birds. The Wing-Folk take this to heart and come down with bloody vengeance on those who would try to break this taboo. They view themselves as rightful rulers of the Earth, for they are unfettered by the grip of gravity or terrestrial woes. They're also slightly more numerous than other breeds, and it's said that they could easily act on their desire for rulership if they could ever collectively agree on anything. They're unable to look past territorial squabbles and petty arguments long enough to band together unless all their lives are threatened.

The homes of the Wing-Folk tend to be open, spacious, and full of trinkets they find interesting. Most feral Wing-Folk are often kleptomaniacal and Kender-esque in what they define as theirs. They also flock to where their animal forms are viewed with the proper respect - Corvidae prefer the Tower of London, crane-folk prefer Japan, etcetera. They're all aloof and egomaniacal to a fault, believing their breed is the smartest, most cunning, and most worthy breed amongst the Wing-Folk, leading to most of their disputes. Despite their own boasts, they tend to be too smart for their own good, with very little practical wisdom to back them up once their intelligence and smart-ass mouths get them into trouble.

Wing-Folk are rather gluttonous and gourmands of the weird, liking food that most Westerners find strange, like candied ants wrapped in leaves or poached field mice. They sometimes cannibalize smaller Wing-Folk when enraged or half-mad, and don't have strong rivalries with many other shifters, too busy fighting themselves. They do, however, creep out fish and snake shifters, and shy away from cat and rodent shifters. They inspire extreme devotion in their animal kin, but bird-folk mostly view their feral cousins as disposable, unbothered by anything short of systematic purges of their populations. Bat-folk are much more protective of their relations.

Some breeds view themselves as representative of the spirits or gods (or God), and get into extremely violent arguments with other shifters (or creatures) who claim to be the true inheritors of divine wisdom. Some take their psychopomp role in mythology equally seriously, ranging from genuinely empathetic participants in assisted suicide to serial killers who justify what they do as easing suffering.

Bird-folk usually gather in small groups of mated pairs, which may be paired for life (leaving the survivor to remain celibate or commit suicide when their partner dies) or may be a pair of serial monogamists (always in a single relationship, but unafraid to move on to a more interesting mate). They have a high rate of twins or triplets and are frankly abusive to them most of the time, but God help whoever else who tries messing with a Wing-Folk's kids. Bat-folk are far more communal, and their low birth rate and even lower rate of children showing the Gift mean the community will lay down their lives to protect their young. Every Wing-Folk thinks itself the alpha of its own group in a fashion, the one with the most force of personality acting as the true leader until someone gets sick of their shit and overthrows them.

quote:

Stereotypes
Man: Man is a mere page in the vast tome of our people's history.
Mages: They could achieve more if they weren't afraid to get their hands messy. True magic requires sacrifice. (Hahaha, ahaha, ha.)
Vampires: No good for food, no use as servants. What use is something undead?
Werewolves: What have we to fear from creatures bound to the earth?

The first breed are the Gente Alada, the Bright Assassins, and these guys are rad as fuck. Their animals are the quetzal bird and the hummingbird. The book mentions a Guatemalan tale that the quetzal bird used to sing the most beautiful song in all the world, but when the Spanish conquered the Americas, its grief caused it to only sing with harsh screams from then on. Once its people are free from the oppression forced upon them, it will sing its song once more. Its shock of red feathers on its chest comes from when it dipped itself into the blood of a fallen Mayan warrior prince who fell in combat with the Spaniards. Huitzilopotchli, god of war and the sun (also known as that charming fellow who Aztecs chopped out hearts for), called souls of warriors who died in battle, women who died in childbirth, and people sacrificed in his name to be part of his retinue in the Sun for a time, then released the souls back to the Earth in the form of butterflies and hummingbirds.

The birds together form a sect, the vastly more populous hummingbirds believing themselves to be the returned warrior souls of the honored dead come to reverse the dominion of Man over nature. The rare but powerful quetzal shifters are the assassins and terrorists of the sect, preferring to kill single targets to consume their heart as tribute to Quetzalcoatl and Huitzilopotchli and gain the victim's strength. Some few follow Mictlantecuhtli, the god of the dead, and just eat anybody who looks delicious, in order to send souls to their master. They're a bit unhinged.

The Gente Alada are, as you can imagine, mostly in Central America, with the quetzal-shifters having roots in Guatemala. They train all their children in the arts of war and the lore of their people, except the Mictlantecuhtli guys, who murder any human children they have because they hate humans that much. Their cousins look at this as depraved at best and sacrilegious at worst.

Quetzal shifters wear red shirts and vests to honor their animal selves, and their warform is a man with green wings, a crest of feathers, a trailing tail of feathers, and rows of feathers on their arms and legs. They traditionally paint their chests red with blood before battle. Hummingbird warriors are small and slight in warform, but their beaks are sharp enough to pierce and pluck out a man's heart. Those who follow Mictlantecuhtli wear bland clothing and paint themselves with ash before battle, preferring to be ghostlike instead of HERE I AM LOOK AT ME WHILE I MURDER YOU

Mechanically, all Gente Alada have three free specific specialties (Close Combat, Silent Killing, and Aztec History) given to them but their normal three specialties must be in Brawl, Weaponry, and Athletics. They get +2 to rolls to hide themselves due to their size as well. They are blisteringly fast and insanely dextrous in their alternate forms, but pretty frail compared to most everything.



Next up, the Corvians. The book talks at some length about the legends of Crow and Raven, especially those from Native American mythology. They're represented as creator gods, discoverers of man and land, thieves of the sun, the right-hand bird of Satan, comforters of Lilith, guides for the dead, and tricksters. The Corvians don't want to spoil a good joke, so they refuse to confirm or deny any of these. The children of Crow and Raven are walking paradoxes, unable to take life seriously while acknowledging its seriousness, liars who always tell the truth, black-hearted jesters, ignorant sages, they have a tendency to drive people around them crazy. They don't take mockery and deceit as well as they dish it out, though. They're obsessively curious, gathering trinkets and information with equal zeal, and are incredible informants if you can ever get one to actually share what it knows.

They're vain and preening in all forms, often wearing black clothing or dyeing their hair black in human form. Some go for a Gothic or punk look (some ironically, some not) while others prefer snappy dress suits. Irreverent and eerily smart from bith, most Corvian use mockery and cruel humor to cover up how incredibly frustrated they are at the world and how much they care about it. They're teachers who smash your illusions and call you an idiot for having them, then help you piece back together the truth of the matter.

Due to the myth that Raven never loses his temper, the Corvians do not have warforms, instead becoming bird-men that look like they crawled out of a Bosch painting, man-sized ravens, or giant swarms of crows and ravens. They are able to hide well, and are able to get the Bag of Tricks aspects like the Laughing Strangers are due to the history of crows and ravens being tricksters. Their animal forms are decidedly middlin' when it comes to power.

Next are the Chervaliers Rapace, the raptor-folk (not those raptors) and Ministers of War. They're the warrior-kings of old and the generals and old money of today, claiming to have created their order in the days of Charlemagne and constructing a vast and glorious history for themselves. Ruthless, power-hungry, and marrying brutality and chivalry, the group is more of an old boys' club than a close knit family. They crush anyone in their way, whether through legal means and suing people into oblivion, or by sending assassins (or assassin-birds) to deal with someone more directly. They have hideous tempers under their impassive looks, and have a bad habit of shooting messengers.

The Ministers arrange marriages between families to consolidate power, killing the children if they object, and otherwise stay out of each others' businesses, as interfering with someone else's territory is a massive breach of etiquette. Mechanically, they are hilariously fast and shockingly brutal in combat, as befits "eagle the size of a large child" or "eagle-man with talons the size of butcher knives."

Next are the Vagahuir, the bat-folk. Due to mankind demonizing bats and associating them with evil and sorcery, they tend to be extremely shy and stay far away from humanity, only venturing into civilization by accident or in desperate times. While some places are still accepting of bats and the bat-folk, such places are being encroached by Westernization, and thus most bat-folk remain nomadic and wary of humanity. They enjoy tattooing and embroidery, as well as leather crafting and dyeing. As mentioned earlier, they have very low birth rates, so the women tend to be polyandrous among both shifters and humans, and superstition says that remaining with a single mate may even render them infertile, so falling in love is discouraged. They have a rich oral history in songs they teach youth, hoping that the songs will coax the Gift out of them. This sensitivity to music and sound also means they find most sounds of human civilization painful.

Their animal forms are giant-ass bats and bat-people who sadly do not look like Batman. Think more Man-Bat (an actual character.) They're beefier than most of their bird cousins, and still pretty damn fast. They also get a free specialty in Song if they have the Expression skill.



Next are the Strigoi, the owl-folk - specifically the screech owls. Emissaries of the dead and the form taken by hags and witches, including Lilith, Mother of Demons. Despite Athena's companions being owls, the mythological depictions of owls are overwhelmingly sinister in tone. Strigoi are necromancers, and have "a weary familiarity" with the dead. They do not treat the shades of the dead with much respect unless given it in return, and are unafraid to abuse or troll ghosts to amuse themselves. They're solitary in nature, and their homes are pretty much gooncaves. Speaking of goons, they also care little for their own appearance and live sedentary lives, often becoming somewhat obese and wearing the same clothes until threadbare and so horrifically nasty the smell practically has a life of its own. Mates are often paired due to wanting to make an unknown quantity living nearby something more comfortably familiar, rather than love or a sense of fidelity.

Their animal forms are large screech owls and the thing you see in the picture above. Statistically, they're pretty slow but stockier than most bird-folk, and have Aspects that let them fuck around with dead people and spirits.

Lastly we have the Brythians, swan-folk who make Kevorkian look like a slacker. They come from Valkyries of Norse myth, the Choosers of the Dead who honor great warriors with a quick, peaceful death. Comforting the living who do not need to die yet with medical treatment, company, or 'company,' Those who they deem as ready or needing to move on get a snap of the neck, an injection, and a comforting embrace as they pass on to whatever afterlives await them.

Mechanically, they have no breed bonus at all, which I'm pretty sure is an oversight, and have surprisingly fast and durable shapeshifted forms.

...wait, that's it? That's the whole chapter? There was nothing flagrantly stupid or terrible? What the hell is this, a decent book!? No, seriously, this was actually a good chapter and if the rest of the book had been up to this quality it'd be far less painful.

Next time: the catch-all breeds, and then the example characters, and then I'm free! Holy shit!