Heart of Sacrifice

     There were two ways of looking at Codrain. Ugly, and ugly. His body was 
covered, head to toe in the most astonishing variety of scars ever seen. Burn scars, 
slashing scars, acid scars, gashes, lacerations. Many overlapped, making him out as a 
patchwork man. He was of course, hidden in the deep, deep folds of his robe. But his 
hands held it together, and they were scarred beyond hideousness. From inside, though 
one could not see it, his clear blue eyes were, odd. He looked to be at the same time a 
mixture of apathetically miserable and whimsically happy. He could very well have been 
on the narcotic that was recently found in Wyvern Blood, although he wasn't. 
     Codrain stepped up to the bar, where the bartender shivered and blanched. "Wot kin 
Ah git ya sir?" he asked, fighting down his gag reflex. Codrian tried to ignore it, but shook
the arms of his robe down so that they covered more of his hands, which the bartender 
was endlessly thankful for. The tips of the man's finger's were hideous enough.
     "Water please." Codrian's voice flowed out in the same manner of a clear spring on a 
child's feet. "cold if you can." The bartender had every desire to get him cold water, let 
alone water, which was never asked for in this part of town. He turned, and quiet 
unhappily informed the scarred man that there was no water to be had. "Its ok friend."
     Codrian turned around and made to leave. The bartender, unable to see the man 
suddenly admired him. But Codrian was not to make all friends this day. He stepped into 
the doorway and was bowled over by a huge man, perhaps six and a half feet tall. "Move
it cupcake!" More than likely he was drunk. His muscles were hard though, strong from 
pit fighting. He was missing an eye with had a long jagged scar from the forhead through 
the socket down to his lip, which was locked in a perpetual sneer. Codrian stood up and 
dusted his robe off as well as he could without revealing too much of his body. 
     Then quite unexpectedley he turned to the man. "Could you bend down, so I can see 
you clearer?"
     "WHAT! You bloody runt!" The fighter booted Codrian in the chest, sending him flying.
     "Thars noh need fer that in mah bar!" the bartended complained meekly. But the pit 
fighter was well known and the bartender cowed before him.
     Codrian stood up. "Just let me..."
     There was a cumulative gasp and an absolute silence in the bar. His hood had fallen 
back. The multitude of criss crossed scars, lacerations, tears, burns, and every wound 
imaginable made him quite effectively, the ugliest thing alive. No one moved, as though if
they stayed still Codrian would not know they were there and just move on. Even the pit 
fighter, for all his years, was terrified and weak before the visage.
     Codrian whimpered a bit. He did not like having his hood down. He shuffled over 
towards the door but stopped midstep as he passed the fighter. He dropped a small tear 
and backed up once. "Just stand still." He squeezed out in a whimpered tone. He 
touched his hand, his grossly deformed hand, to the mans face, running it from the top of 
the scar, to the eye socket, to the lip. As he did so a long, hideous scar, from his forhead, 
to his eye socket, down to his lip appeared, and disappeared from the man. His eye 
socket was not empty, but Codrian's was. 
     Weeping wholly now Codrian fled the bar, his robe flowing behind him like a cape, 
revealing his wretched legs. He skipped town, leaving what he owned where it was and 
scurried off, somewhere else, where no one knew him, at all.
     In the bar, the pit fighter looked around, his vision blurry from adjusting to two eyes. 
His mind caught hang of it again and things focused. Everyone stayed silent and shock 
still. 
     One man spoke. "T-t-thank ggod that's over with..."
     The pit fighter made a great leap and slammed a hard, trained fist into the mans 
nose."You shut up! Shut up and get out!" He kicked the man to the ground and shoved 
him out of the bar with the boot of his foot.
     He then got drunk.
     Very, very drunk.

Many people owe their lives to a Heart of Sacrafice. They aren't organized, cummunitative, or close. They hate themselves and their appearence. But cannot help being drawn to cities and places of tragedy. Shrouded in a robe or cloak or rags the move from place to place. Never capable of bringing themselves to wear gloves or cloths that hide their entire body. Like penance for kindness they take wounds away from people, to give to themselves. Their hearts are ceaslessly large, and give to any whom they pass bearing sorrowful pain. They can feel an age old wound on a person as though it was fresh. And it doesn't go away until they take it from the person and onto themselves.

Hearts of Sacrafice are usually Clerics, almost exclusively Neutral Good clerics of benevolent and peaceful gods. They are not even required to worship any god, and since it is not an order no one can be banned from their ranks.

Heart of Sacrifice

prerequisites

class skills

Appraise (Int), Concentration (Con), Diplomacy (Cha), Escape Artist (Dex), Heal (Wis), Hide (Dex), Listen (Wis), Move Silently (Dex)

Pts/level: 2+int

HD: d10

BAB: As Wizard

Weapon and Armor Proficiency: The Heart of Sacrifice gains no new proficiencies.

The Gift, The Curse: It is a blessing to heal. It is a curse to suffer. Still worse to do one to do the other. The HoS gains the supernatural ability to cure 5+level times their level of hit points per day. (So a 1st level HoS can heal 6hp, while a 5th level HoS can heal 50, and 10th lvl HoS can heal 150). When they do this however they take the equivalent amount of damage and any physical deformaties that go with it, at the same time removing those deformities from the victim. Deformaties involving severed limbs cost the HoS their entire limb, which grows back in 4 days until third level, when it grows back in 1d4 days.

Hideous Presence: To see a man with one scar invokes curiosity, to see a man with five scars invokes awe, to see a man with twenty scars invokes pity. To see a man with a hundred scars invokes dread. Each level the HoS becomes more and more hideous. His Cha mod does not actually drop, but for all interactions with sentient beings they have an effective -4 to their Cha per level of HoS if the being can see any part of their body. When it reaches 0 they have an effective modifier of -6. Note this is NOT their actual Cha score. Just their modifier when determining reactions with sentient creatures. Also, creatures that can see a small part of the HoS (Such as their just their hands or feet, or a quarter of their face) must make a Will save DC 15 or be shaken. However so long as the HoS can make a visible effort to hide their extremity they may speak calmly and comfortingly, negating this effect. Those who see a large part of the HoS's body, like their full face, or both arms up to the shoulder, must make a Will save DC 10+lvl HoS+ the HoS negative Cha mod (as though it were positive) or be affected by fear. This fear can have one of two effects. Either people run away as fast as possible for 1d4+3 rounds, or they are stunned into inaction for 1d4+3 rounds. Any act that puts them at danger during these rounds of inaction, such as drawing a dagger, makes them flee for the remainder of the rounds.

Fast Healing: It is cruelty to harm a person, it is wickedness to heal them so you can harm them again. Out of pity, remorse, adaptation or wickedness, some power grants the HoS the ability to heal 5 hp each round. In addition lost body parts grow back in 1d4 days. However during the time these body parts are growing back, the HoS heals only 2 hp per round. This ability increases to +10 at 8th level and becomes +6 when regenerating body parts.

Suffer All unto Me: There are sick and disposessed in every part of the globe. They suffer from scars of disease both inside and out. In many ways, they are more miserable than those with mere wounds. The HoS gains the ability to cure diseases. Even magical diseases like Mummy Rot and Lycanthropy. The HoS must then make their own save against the disease. If they succeed then it is as though the disease never existed. if they fail they suffer the full effects of the disease, which gains an incubation period of immediate. For an HoS however Mummy Rot and Lycanthropy act differently. Each day they are allowed a new Fort save against the disease.

Healing All: A cut is only as deep as the skin, and in a matter of days it is gone again. But the wound goes deeper, it goes within, to fester and rot like needles and pins. Many people take to evil and violent paths because of something in their past. An act of violence that left some eternal mark both upon their bodies or within their souls. The HoS gains the ability to remove physical scars, long since healed from a person's body in the same way they heal other people with The Gift/The Curse. However, this healing goes deeper, because like the act of violence is one of thoughtless hate, the act of curing is one of thoughtless love. Curses, Marks, and other magical markings attatched to the target are removed completely, the target also must make a Will save of DC15 + level of HoS if it wishes to make any attempt to bring the HoS harm. If they fail then the HoS is considered to be under the effect of Sanctuary (as the spell) in accordance to that creature. This effect goes even deeper down, as it removes the internal discords of hate and pain that the target has suffered emotionaly as long as it was connected to the removed scar. Though they rarely befriend the HoS, they often hold them in high esteem, defending their name, and their life if it is threatened while they can see. HoS's usually spurn companions, seeking to hide their own deformity in solitude.

The Ease of Burdens: There is something so abjectly heart rending about the pathos of a Heart of Sacrafice. To wish they could have their own burdens eased for once is the subject of thought for many who ever come close to knowing them. It is through this method that some Wizard, Preist, or even Outsider has wished that the HoS have reduced suffering. As a result they have a damage reduction DR -5. It is not much, but it is a little, and every little bit helps. The DR applys to damage taken through healing with The Gift/The Curse. However at this point the HoS cannot simply heal 5, then another 5. They must heal all the damage that the target took from at least one attack or 30 damage, whichever is less. This cannot force the HoS into being reduced below 0. If the HoS heals someone else up to the point where the HoS's hp is 0 they automatically have the choice to stop healing then. But as with all of the Heart of Sacrafice's gifts, this one is not without cost. The HoS must make a Will Save: DC 17+ the amount of damage to not attempt to use their Gift/Curse healing to heal a wounded creature, even an enemy.

Gifts of Life: "And I looked upon his body, wracked and broken with disease and torment. I layed my hands upon him and he was healed. But I looked upon my hands and saw I had done too much. The boils festered in my hands now. The pus oozed from my pours and my blood into the streets. I fell upon my knees cried out. 'Why God why!" The HoS learns the ability to temporarily take the death of a creature onto themself and bring the creature back into life. They may cast ressurection but in the process must use Gift/Curse healing to heal half of the targets total Hp. In the process they must make a Fort save as though affected by Death from Massive damage. Failure indicates the HoS is slain.