Shapechangers Birth (Shapechanger Tales Book 1)
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Let them wander the world. They may be shunned and feared, but they will never be destroyed. When she draped it over her children their old faces melted away and they could be whoever they wanted to be. And so it remains. Though the Children are shunned by all, the gift of the Traveler protects them still. A changeling can shift its face and form with a thought. This leads many people to treat known changelings with fear and suspicion. Wherever humans can be found, there are changelings; the question is whether their presence is known.
Changelings are born to one of three paths. A few are raised in stable communities where changelings are true to their nature and deal openly with the people around them. Some are orphans, raised by other races, who find their way in the world without ever knowing another like themselves. Others are part of nomadic changeling clans spread across the Five Nations who keep their true nature hidden from the single-skins.
Some clans maintain safe havens in major cities and communities, but most prefer to wander the unpredictable path of the Traveler. Does the character conceal their true changeling nature? Do they embrace it? Do they have connections to other changelings or are they alone and in search of companions?
In their natural form changelings are slender and pale, with colorless eyes and silver-white hair. A changeling can alter its physical appearance with a thought. While this can be used to deceive others, it is a natural form of expression for the changeling. A changeling shifts shapes the way others might change clothes. A mask can be used to express a mood or to serve a specific purpose and then never used again.
The Changeling Race for Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) Fifth Edition (5e) - D&D Beyond
However, many changelings develop identities that have more depth. This focused identity helps a changeling pinpoint a particular skill or emotion. A changeling adventurer might have personas for many situations, including negotiation, investigation, and combat. Personas can be shared by multiple changelings; there might be three healers in a community, but whoever is on duty will adopt the persona of Tek, the kindly old medic.
Personas can even be passed down through a family, allowing a younger changeling to take advantage of contacts established by previous users of the persona. A changeling might use a different name for each mask and persona and adopt new names as easily as they develop new faces. Changelings have a fluid relationship with gender, seeing it as one characteristic to change among many others.
Your Charisma score increases by 2, and either your Dexterity or your Intelligence increases by 1 your choice. Changelings mature slightly faster than humans but share a similar lifespan — typically a century or less. While a changeling can shapeshift to conceal their age, the effects of aging still catch up to them.
Changelings hate to be bound in any way, and those who follow the path of the Traveler believe that chaos and change are important aspects of life. Most tend toward pragmatic neutrality as opposed to being concerned with lofty ideals. Despite common fears, few changelings embrace evil. In their natural forms, changelings average between 5 to 6 feet in height, with a slender build. Your size is Medium. As an action, you can transform your appearance or revert to your natural form. You decide what you look like, including your height, weight, facial features, the sound of your voice, coloration, hair length, sex, and any other distinguishing characteristics.
You can make yourself appear as a member of another race, though none of your game statistics change. Even to the most astute observers, your ruse is usually indiscernible. If you rouse suspicion, or if a wary creature suspects something is amiss, you have advantage on any Charisma Deception check you make to avoid detection. You gain proficiency with two of the following skills of your choice: Deception , Intimidation , Insight , and Persuasion.
When a creature you can see makes an attack roll against you, you can use your reaction to impose disadvantage on the roll. You must use this feature before knowing whether the attack hits or misses. Using this trait reveals your shapeshifting nature to any creature within 30 feet that can see you.
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You gain proficiency with one tool of your choice. Define a unique identity associated with that proficiency; establish the name, race, gender, age, and other details. While you are in the form of this persona, the related proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses that proficiency.
Seems like maybe it should be in the same category as the Critical Role content? My sense is the reason DnD Beyond isn't classifying them as UA material is because they don't come with the expectation of being removed eventually, being paid content. I agree it's a little unclear though, especially considering the article about these classes on WOTC's website explicitly calls them UA content.
It's not really a problem for me personally, but I can see how it might be problematic in other circumstances.
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He closed his eyes, shutting out the busy and entrancing mortal world, and that magical rain, and huffed. When he had grown the balls to ask him, Dalton had looked as lost as he felt. They were both learning this shit as they went along, making half of it up and hoping what they did was right, and what the pride expected. He was the only heir to the position of alpha, which meant there would either be a fight between the strongest males in the pride to see who would take his place, or the pride would call upon a former alpha.
His cousin had been raised to be an alpha, while August had been raised to play a supporting role. He wanted his cousin to be happy though, and the damned idiot would have stuck with tradition if he had taken back the mantle of alpha, making it impossible for him to be with his mate, and beloved, Eloise, because she was born of the lower ranks in the pride. Still, Cavanaugh was with Eloise at last, and for better or worse, August was in charge of the pride.
Sure, he had three prides trying to palm off females onto him, and several of the high-ranking females in his own pride making valiant attempts to bed him.
Gods, he missed the old days. Hell, he had thought it would be a perk of the position, had imagined himself rolling in more females than ever, at least double the number he had used to invite into his bed. The stress of running the pride had him awake most nights, poring over documents and tearing his hair out as he tried to figure out what to do about the thousand issues and projects piled up on his desk, and busy every hour of the day, taking visits from members of the pride and hearing their problems.
His every moment, every breath, was dedicated to getting the pride back on their feet. Dalton was a good male, and one hell of a looker, and always had his back, but neither of them swung that way. No way he was going to let his best friend take the hit like that just because he was bucking tradition. August was behind him one hundred percent, would do whatever it took to help them be together, just as he had for Cavanaugh. He never had been cool with some snow leopard traditions. Now he was caught up in them himself.
As alpha, he could bed all the lowborn females he wanted, but he was expected to pick from the highborn or somehow find his fated one among the elite, the snow leopard female who had been made for him, if he ever chose to settle down. He sighed. Dalton would probably leap at the chance to settle down with the female he was seeing. It was obvious his friend loved her.
August should have turned him down when he had offered himself as his second in command. Maybe then Dalton could have found a way to be with his female. Now, because of his elevated position, he was expected to choose a female from within his own social sphere. His friend was indispensable, kept him sane when he was losing his mind, and pulled him up whenever he tripped and fell.
He was more than a right hand man. He was vital. So vital that August had left the pride in his capable hands while he flew halfway across the world to London. August hated to admit it, but it felt fucking good to be away from the pride and his responsibilities there. He looked up at the redbrick warehouse to his right as the taxi pulled up outside it, at the bright neon sign that hung above thick steel doors.
August slipped the driver his money, grabbed his duffle bag and opened the door. He stepped out onto the wet tarmac, slammed the door and stared up at the sign as the car pulled away, leaving him alone in the night, rain pouring down on his face. The doors of the club opened and laughter burst around him, and he watched the two females staggering away, heading towards the main road. He eased inside the nightclub in one fluid motion before the door closed, not touching it, and stilled in the darkness.
The twenty-foot-wide corridor opened out a short distance ahead of him into a huge space. Flashing colourful lights stuttered across the black wooden bar that ran along the right black wall of the club, and the dance floor that filled the rest of the space to the left. It was still busy, close to one hundred people writhing against each other to a heavy rock beat. Halfway up the height of the building, a balcony ran around three sides of the dance floor, only absent above the bar. A few couples were making out up in the booths he could see, and more than one of the enclosed spaces had the curtain drawn across to give the occupants some privacy.
Cool air washed over him, and his nerves vanished, his head growing a little light as he breathed it in. What was in the air conditioning vents? Whatever it was, it was good. The pride? Not a problem. Trade negotiations? A pretty blonde of indiscernible breeding bounced along the bar towards him, bringing his gaze with her, and he frowned when she stopped and his eyes settled on the one who had threatened him. I dealt with him last time! Cavanaugh set a tall glass down in front of a male at the bar, heaved a sigh and turned towards him.
His grey eyes widened, locked on August, a ripple of surprise crossing his face a second before he scrubbed a hand over his softly-spiked silver hair and stomped towards him. She squeezed past him and went back to serving the customers. The blond male looked him up and down, curled a lip and pivoted on his heel, striding away from Cavanaugh. Cavanaugh rolled his broad shoulders, stretching his white shirt even tighter across them, and offered an apologetic smile.
Kyter owned Underworld, had taken Cavanaugh in a few years back when he had left the pride after Stellan had defeated him. August eyed the blond. According to Cavanaugh, he was a jaguar. Highly territorial. Cavanaugh grabbed a tall glass, stuck it under one of the pumps, and pulled him a pint.
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He set it down on the bar and nodded towards it. August walked to it, slid onto the stool and set his duffle down beside him. It hit him hard that he could have. Look at my father. He had been so focused on a need to speak with Cavanaugh that he had been convinced the only way to do it was face to face.
Cavanaugh slapped his shoulder, and August was thankful he had chosen his left, and not his right. Damn thing was still healing after their fight against Stellan. He nodded, lifted his beer to his lips and took a swig. Damn, it was good. Not as good as the homebrew they had at the village, but it was still good. It was freezing cold for a start, not warmed over a fire. Cavanaugh had been pushed into a position that had taken him away from Eloise, had separated them because of their status, and it had almost killed him.
It was good to see the old Cavanaugh back though, the one who smiled and laughed. It made everything August had done worth it, and everything he was going through. His cousin pulled his phone from the pocket of his black trousers, swiped over the screen as it illuminated his face, making his eyes more silver than grey, and then shoved it away again. He found himself nodding, because four days sounded heavenly. He needed some space, some time to get his head straight and learn from Cavanaugh about how to run the pride. He would still be back in time for the meeting. She spotted him and her smile lit up her face.
She lifted her arm, pulling up the hem of her plain dark t-shirt with it, and waved. Cavanaugh growled at his mate, or was it him?