Epicure
We turn now to
Meladina Vorell. It's a name I'm sure you've heard many times, in countless tellings and re-tellings in your local tavern. You're picturing it now, aren't you? It's a night like any other -- just like this one, perhaps:
You see the flickering firelight reflect off the seamed and leathery faces of the old-timers who nurse their dented mugs of Widow Fenton's dark, creamy ale; the rough-hewn stones that give back the soot-stained warmth they accumulated while spending a weary day supporting the ceiling of dark, heavy beams.
The small evening crowd sits in rapt silence, hanging on every word of the bard's melodic voice as he navigates through a well-worn tale of adventure and betrayal, love and deceit. Through cracks in the shuttered window, crickets stir, singing a sibilant accompaniment to the soft throb of lute strings.
The bard's story winds to its inevitable conclusion, and as everyone pauses to reflect, the words come from a shadow in the back. "Tell us one about Meladina Vorell," someone calls, and the request echoes from the other listeners, "Yes!" "Lady Vorell!" "The Night Lady!" "Void-Eater!"
*What can the storyteller do but comply?But this is not that sort of story. We speak now not of the
Night Lady's many legends and accomplishments, but of her origins, her training. For did you know that the **Void-Eater** is one of many with the same strange skills? The most well-known, to be sure, but far from the first, and certainly not the last.
So let us begin... but not at the beginning. Yes, we will get to her origins, and soon. We will touch on it all, in due time, don't fret. Just let me tell it in my own way, and I will paint you a picture of what it means to be what she was: the
Night Lady. An eater of magic.
An
Epicure.
The true gourmet, like the true artist, is one of the unhappiest creatures existent. His trouble comes from so seldom finding what he constantly seeks: perfection.
Ludwig Bemelmans
“Sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it.”
George R.R. Martin
AdventuresMela can't quite manage to keep the smug smile off her face as she stares at the dumbstruck fool. Not that she can blame him - in his shoes (pointy purple slippers, silk if she isn't mistaken), she'd be surprised too.
"B- but sire," the applicant begins, desperation leaking into his voice, "I don't know what happened! Please, let me try once more, I beg you!"
The king leans back on his throne, an uncomfortable-looking thing with a hard seat of polished wood. His temper is fraying, and Mela can see thunderheads building behind his eyes. "Ryzbeck-"
"Ryzbeck the Mystical," the fool interjects, then falters as he realizes his blunder, his thin mustache seeming to wilt under the force of the King Reginald's glare. After a long moment full of seething tension, the king manages to croak a few words through gritted and creaking teeth. "This is your final chance,
Ryzbeck. As of right now, the well of my patience for your incompetence has dried up."
The alleged "wizard" nods hurriedly, his expression a mixture of relief at not being dungeon-bound quite yet, and terror at the prospect looming over him. He rolls up his sleeves, gathers what tattered scraps of courage and focus he can muster, and begins a new incantation. Mela is ready, and breathes in soft and deep just as the magic begins to take shape in Ryzbeck's trembling hands.
She almost feels bad for him - the fool actually has some skill, but it's his bad luck (or bad decision) to be here in court today, applying for the same position as she is. But quickly, any shreds of pity she might have felt are washed away as her throat and abdomen grow comfortably warm. She feels sated near to bursting with the power - Ryzbeck must have been pulling out all the stops for this one, hoping to turn around his fading fortunes. Ah well, life can be funny and tragic in equal measure.
The spell sputters and dies between Ryzbeck's fingers, and he collapses to his knees, hands hiding a face suddenly streaked with sweat and tears. He can't even manage a single word as the king waves a hand, and a surly guard drags him across the polished marble towards a side door. The king shifts on the unforgiving seat, his mood growing even blacker. Mela isn't worried, though. She has a plan.
King Reginald scans the room, his eyes as hard and cold as the floor. He alights on Mel, and she steps forward and gives a graceful curtsey in his direction. She speaks before he has a chance to work himself into a rage, careful to modulate her tone so she sounds a bit older. "Your majesty, I am Meladina Vorell. I am here to fill the position your criers were advertising."
The king leans back, eyeing Mela up and down. She's grown used to such male attention over the past year. Though it took her much longer than her friends back home, Mela has finally grown into her height, and the way she fills out the subtle curves of the black velvet dress is quite pleasing. She's slim enough that the dress needs to be quite tight to produce said curves, leaving little (but just enough) to the imagination. Her features, always rather sharp, she would call "striking", especially with her black tresses teased into luxury and excess, pinned up on one side with an obsidian butterfly.
Mela's confidence, buoyed by the magic that fills her (if she's being honest, the neckline on her dress certainly doesn't hurt), seem to distract the king somewhat, and he clears his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Aren't you a bit... young... to be a sorceress? I have no desire for another court toady, girl. I'm looking for a magus I can send out to do my bidding. Deal with rabid manticores, ferret out traitors, that sort of thing. Are you sure a lovely young thing like yourself is interested in that kind of work?"
Mela keeps her smile fixed in place, and she keeps her gaze steady. He's playing the "concerned uncle", and it makes her loathe him, just a little bit. But that's the game, and she always wins. "Of course, your majesty. The criers were clear about that, when I asked. I didn't come here to waste your time, or mine. By your leave, if I may demonstrate my abilities?"
She doesn't wait for permission, but instead raises her hand with a sharp movement, and the air between Mela and the throne pulses and vibrates beyond the edge of hearing, growling like the flight of a thousand hornets directly at the king, seated directly in front of her. Nearby guards shout and try to rush towards Mela, and Reginald recoils instinctively before it, whatever it is, reaches him.
With a sharp *crack*, the ancient wooden slab which makes up the seat of the gilded throne snaps in half, tearing free from the throne's frame and dumping His Royal Hiney onto the dais with a bellow. He staggers to his feet, face purpling as he opens his mouth to roar at her, but she takes a half step forward, locking him in place with her gaze, and murmurs "Ahm well.. what a shame about the throne. You'll probably have to replace the seat. Too bad it was an irreplaceable antique, instead of, say... something cushioned?"
The king halts and stares at Mela, holding up a hand to stay the guards. His tirade fizzles in his mouth. Then, he looks back at the shattered remains of the throne's seat, and begins to chuckle. "I see, Lady Vorell. How careless of you... I would suggest that you work on your control while traveling, as I can't have someone bearing my seal be so cavalier with other peoples' property." He gestures to a nearby clerk, who shakes herself out of a stupefied reverie and hurries over with important documents.
Mela allows her smile to broaden and fully occupy her face. The sweetness of victory is only slightly marred by a transient surge of emptiness which suffuses her -- just like male interest, she's grown used to this by now, too.
CharacteristicsA foot, confined in a sturdy, secondhand leather shoe, taps the hard-packed dirt of the farmyard. "I don't get it. You're saying I can do... what, exactly?" Mel scratches the back of her head, pulling strands of fine, dark hair from her tight braid, and scrunches up her smudged face in consternation, creasing the youthful smoothness with frustrated wrinkles.
The man smiles and lifts his hands palm-up, attempting to placate the 8-year-old girl in front of him. "Right now, not much. Until you get some serious training, you've got the one basic trick. It's a doozy, though." He ignores the chicken pecking curiously at his boot, and it gives up when it realizes that the travel-stained thing isn't a piece of corn.
"So," Mel muses, chewing her lower lip, "I can, what... *eat* magic?"
The man beams at her, amusement and delight playing across his face in equal measure. "That's an excellent description, actually. You probably feel a little less hungry than you did earlier, don't you?" When she nods, he points at her abdomen, holding her gaze. "That's because your belly is holding some magic."
Mel makes a face, and wraps her arms around her thin frame, as if to protect her from invasive sorcery. The homespun of her colorless shirt is rough against the inside of her forearms, and she latches onto the mild abrasion as a light in the darkness. She has no idea what to think of this man.
First he shows up at her farm, trying to sell her parents a pair of ancient donkeys. She doesn't like him at all, and as she watches him, she notices a weird sparkle around his mouth and throat while he speaks. She can't suppress a quiet gasp, and the sparkle disappears at the same time her belly grows all warm and full. The man is really surprised, then he just *gives* her parents the donkeys, as long as he can talk to her alone. Then, this whole bizarre tale about her having special powers, that she absorbed the magic he was trying to use.
Her eyes narrow in sudden suspicion. "You're a crook. You were trying to, I dunno, *charm* my parents, or something, so they'd buy your stupid donkeys. Why should I trust you?"
The man doesn't seem bothered by her accusations, and just shrugs and keeps on grinning. "Because I know someone that can train you, that does what you can do. And she'll pay me quite a bit for finding a student with your talents, far more than I would've gotten for those beasts. It's pure self-interest."
Mel relaxes slightly. His explanation makes sense, so her mind wanders back to the warmth she feels, and the vanishing sparkle. She can feel the excitement starting to build. She'll be able to get away from this stupid farm, will learn how to do... something. "So once I get this training, what will I be able to do? Will I be able to charm people too?"
The crook laughs. "Most assuredly, and a lot of other stuff besides. I have no idea what the full extent of your abilities will be - I can't do what you do. What I *do* know is that you'll be able to absorb - sorry, 'eat' - magic that wizards and paladins and other magical folk try to use around you, and then you can store that magic up like a camel stores water, and use it to do all kinds of amazing spells yourself."
The little girl stares at him wide-eyed, imagining herself as a sorceress. She can't wait to begin her training, can't wait until she's so powerful, even her older brothers will have to do what she says. "Okay! I want to go with you, I want to get trained. I just have one question."
The man claps his hands and rubs them together, business-like but for the ever-present smile. "Excellent! I thought you'd say that. Ask your question, and we can get on the road."
Mel hesitates, suddenly shy. "Well, I was just wondering... what's a camel?"
Alignment"Please, Lady, p-please - won't you show mercy?" Gerald Ashblow, victor of a hundred and one duels, veteran soldier, and leader of the mercenary band called the Kingswood Killers, huddles beneath his tower shield, blood leaking from a shallow scalp wound. His sword lies 10 feet away - might as well be a mile, for all the good it'll do him. He tenses as he hears her footfalls crunch and splinter on the debris scattered around, and takes a quick peek around the battered steel edge.
Lady Vorell stalks forward, stepping around fallen bodies still smoking and twitching. Though her face is an expressionless mask, her eyes burn with a depth of fury the man has never seen. Her hands at her sides are clenched into fists, white-knuckled, and beginning to glow and shimmer with the power she's absorbed. She pauses for a moment to kick the corpse of the enemy warlock directly in the face with a reinforced boot, and his head snaps back and lolls. Shards of broken teeth and sluggish, cooling blood spatter up onto her black traveling dress, already soot-stained and torn from the confrontation. This accomplished, she turns back toward Gerald, and he hides his face again, praying to any god who might be listening that the shield can protect him.
He hears a few more steps - she must be close, now - and then nothing. A moment later, Lady Vorell speaks, and the calm in her voice chills him to the bone, despite the roaring bonfire 20 feet away.
"Mercy?" She gives a humorless chuckle. "I've shown mercy in the past. When I was a girl, I always thought everyone was good. I gave the benefit of the doubt whenever I had the chance. I even sobbed for hours, the first time I ended a life with my power. I swore I would only do so again under the most dire circumstances." She takes another step closer, and Gerald tenses, wondering if she's close enough for him to thrust the shield backwards and knock her out.
"I won't kill you," she whispers, and he freezes, hope coming alive like a candle flame in his chest. "No," she continues, voice growing louder, "I won't kill you, even though your men ambushed my friends, murdered them in their sleep. Even though you left them lying there like slaughtered calves. You don't deserve that much mercy."
Suddenly, Gerald feels himself tip the shield away from himself, and it clatters to the ground. He can do nothing but tremble in terror as his muscles disobey, and he finds himself standing to face the Lady. Her eyes are terrible, and despite the grey streaks in her hair, the lines of age in her face, Gerald is struck by an incongruous thought: *How beautiful she is. I would have worshipped this woman.*
Then she turns, and his body turns to mirror hers. They takes two steps, and reach to the ground, her hand closing on nothing. His hand, however, closes on the hilt of his sword. They both straighten, and he gasps, tears leaking from his eyes to draw rivulets on his dirty cheeks. Lady Vorell bends her arm at the elbow and rotates her wrist, and Gerald feels the sword's edge part the soft leather of his breeches and come to rest against his inner thigh. His stomach is a hollow pit of horror and disbelief. If only he'd forgotten to sharpen his sword - his father's sword, given to him on his Naming Day. If only he hadn't taken the contract, or had been careless with his men and attacked during the day.
Lady Vorell stares at him, face hollow. Gerald opens his mouth to speak, but before he can get out a word, her arm snaps inward. He feels a sharp pain, sees the ground rushing at him, and hears the crackle of the fire become fuzzy and indistinct.
Then, all is dark.
ReligionMeladina crouches at the corner of the passageway, struggling to breathe quietly, to stand absolutely still. Her mind races for the twentieth time, but comes up empty yet again. She is stuck here, her back pressed to the pitted stone, while the emaciated dragon prowls the cavern behind her. She knows that her previous attack deafened the feral creature, but she doesn't know what other senses it might have, and its eyesight is still perfectly good.
That attack also drained her to the absolute dregs of her stored magic, less than she'd had in years. She'd been counting on the dragon to use its own sorcery against her, which would have replenished her store and given her plenty to work with, but the thing was so far gone that it was relying entirely on tooth and claw, of which it had far too many for her to feel comfortable. At this point, there wasn't anything to do... but pray.
"Great Mother", she whispers, then tenses, listening. The dragon's breathing and scraping movements don't change, and she relaxes the tiniest bit. It's still deaf. "Great Mother," she starts again, and then pauses, continuing, "and any other deities who might be listening... and friendly... I know I haven't spoken to you much. I've gone along with Cedric a few times to all the temples he visits, and I gave an offering at each one - that has to count for something, right? I didn't even complain about doing it, either. So, if one of you is listening, and feeling rather generous... please, please please
please, help me out, here. I can't promise to suddenly become devout, we both know that, but I will absolutely promise to send all my desparate prayers and thanks your way forever after. Please. Thank you."
Suddenly her eye spies a glimmer of gold in the moonlight, at the base of the wall a few feet to her left. Heart in her throat, Meladina inches her way towards it, trying to move as little as possible. Her fingertips brush against it, and she can feel the shape: it's a thin metal rod about a foot long, etched with intricate, flowing designs. She can also feel the power thrumming through it. A wand! Her eyes flood with relieved tears. She's saved.
She whispers, "Thank you," choking back a sob. She concentrates for a moment, and can feel the magic draining from the wand into her core, warming and filling her in that comforting way she's learned to love so much. She slowly rises from her crouch, leather creaking, thighs and knees aching, and after taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she leaps around the corner.
The dragon is stunned at her sudden appearance, and pauses, one taloned foot hanging in midair. Meladina gathers green energy into her hands, and she can see it reflect off the dull white metal of the creature's scales. She flings the energy, and it splits into three coherent spheres, each of which slams into the dragon's body with an acrid sizzle.
BackgroundMel stands nervously in the center of the room as Amandine paces slowly around her, eyes narrow, lips pursed. She's not wearing anything but a simple shift, and there's a draft which chills her arms and bare ankles into gooseflesh.
Amandine stops directly in front of her, and sighs expansively, waving bejeweled fingers with a vague gesture at a small pile of cushions. When she speaks, her voice is a rich, throaty contralto. "Alright, girl, you can sit. We have much to discuss."
Mel grabs one of the cushions and drops onto it without ceremony, grateful for the chance to sit. She crosses her ankles awkwardly, and looks at the floor. She's not sure what to expect from this woman; when she left her farm with Magnus, she wasn't expecting to have to journey for 3 years, all the way to the other side of the world, to start her training. Still, she's here now, and she's determined to make a good impression. She lifts her gaze to Amandine, who is watching her with a mixture of amusement and bemusement.
"You're a bit young to qualify for my tutelage, but Magnus tells me that you're ready, and he and I go back a
long ways." Amandine's lips curve into a slow smile, and Mel blushes when she realizes what her teacher means. She can't help but stare at the low-cut dress of the finest red silk, which shows off Amandine's slim curves, or the jewels, the immaculate makeup. The woman is a true beauty, and knows it. When Magnus had seen her, his jaw had dropped, and Amandine had laughed and given him a hug. Now Mel wonders whether Amandine had dressed so finely just to impress Magnus, or if she always looked like this.
"So I'm wondering... did anything strange happen to your mother before you were born? When she was pregnant with you?" Amandine's dulcet voice pulls Mel from her reverie, and she blinks for a moment, trying to think.
"Um... no, I don't - no, wait! Yes, I remember. Just before I was born, there was a pestilence that killed a bunch of people on the neighboring farms. My mother caught it while she was pregnant, and my father gave everything he had, all of their savings, to pay an acolyte of the Great Mother from the nearest town to come and heal her."
Amandine nods, as if she expected this. "As I suspected. You were nourished by magic while you were in the womb, and your body developed a taste for it. That's why you instinctively consumed Magnus's spell when he tried to charm your parents."
Mel nods. "That makes sense." She leans forward, excitement suffusing her tone. "So, you're really going to teach me? To be an Ep- Eppy-" she stumbles over the unfamiliar word.
Amandine laughs. "Epicure. Oh yes, child, I will teach you. You'll learn the flavors of magic in its many forms, and all the wonderful things you can do with it once you've consumed its essence. You will learn to savor each spell, each morsel of magic that passes your lips, and eventually, you may never need any other kind of nourishment."
RacesThe dress is uncomfortably tight on Mela's ribs, and she shifts surreptitiously, trying to force it into a more comfortable position. "I don't understand why I have to do this, Ama. Who cares about other Epicures? You already know how to do everything, and you're teaching me, so why does it matter?"
Amandine sighs, exasperated, and brushes Mela's hair back from her forehead. "Stop squirming, darling. Mela, I love you, but you're being dense." She steps in front of Mela, holding her gaze. "It's not just that he's
any other Epicure. It's that he's a
dwarven Epicure. You know how rare they are. Dwarves don't usually have the force of personality to overpower a spellcaster's natural control over the magic they create. Elves, gnomes, and halfings, sure, but a dwarf? You
know how exciting this is."
Mela gives a noncommittal grunt, and tries again in vain to shift the dress. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and he'll bring along his apprentice Epicures... the orc, and the gnoll. And the zombie."
Amandine stares at her for a moment, then collapses against the wall, laughing so hard that she can't hold herself up. Mela smiles, and tries to chuckle, but winces as the corset digs into her ribs.
Other ClassesThe room is silent as Meladina steps in behind Cedric. Three men stare at her with undisguised curiosity. The human, swathed in battered leather, leans back from the arrows whose fletching he's been checking. "Who's this now, Ced? You bring us something fun to play with?"
Meladina steps forward and gives a tiny curtsey and a forced smile. "You must be Ric. I'm the newest member of your troupe. My name is Meladina."
Ric returns a scowl. "Ah, sh- I mean, sorry, Lady. I didn't mean to insult you like that-"
Meladina laughs, and the room relaxes. "It's fine."
Cedric gently lays a heavy, gauntleted hand on Meladina's shoulder. "She's fresh off the king's business, and I think we're lucky to have her. She's an Epicure."
Ric and the half-elf raise their eyebrows, but the elf in the corner grimaces and pushes a thick tome under the travel sack he's packing. "Oh, just great. Good thinking, Cedric, just typical paladin. How am I supposed to cast spells when she's standing right next to me, gobbling them up?"
Meladina gives the elf a wickedly friendly smile. "Don't worry, wizard, I won't bite." She snaps her teeth at him, and he jumps. The other men all laugh, and the elf's frown deepens. She gives him a placating gesture. "I mean it. I'll only consume your spells if we both agree it's the right thing to do. Like, if you finish the day with some extra. I've worked with a spellcaster before, and I know how to control it. I'm going to focus on stopping my
enemies from casting, not my friends."
The elf shakes his head and turns away. "We'll see, I guess."
The half-elf jumps to his feet and sweeps a grandiose bow, spoiled only by the pair of daggers in his hands. "Welcome aboard, Lady Meladina. We're glad to have you."
Role"You see," Amandine murmurs as their carriage pulls up to the palace gates, "you are indeed exactly the kind of person the king wants for this task. Sure, in terms of raw firepower or versatility, a wizard likely has the edge on you, and for physical durability or group augmentation, a cleric is probably also better. But
you have a few attributes that make you a better fit for the kinds of situations you'd face working for His Majesty."
Instead of paying full attention, Mela has been gawking out the carriage window at the imposing edifice of white stone as they approached. Pigeons perch on the battlements, where resigned guards on patrol half-heartedly shoo them away. They return almost immediately. The heavy doors of iron-reinforced wood creak open, and the carriage rolls through. She smooths the rich black velvet of the dress Amandine gave her as a graduation present, and turns back to find her teacher watching her with a raised eyebrow.
Mela flushes and rifles through her vague memories of the conversation. "Uh... yeah... oh! Right. What... attributes are those?"
Amandine rolls her eyes, but a smile plays over her lips. "Paying attention now?" Mela nods with enthusiasm, and she sighs. "Well, first of all, unlike those reclusive bookworms,
you know how to talk to people and make them like you, trust you, even adore you. That kind of thing can be very handy in a pinch. Also, you have more supernatural lasting power, since you can absorb more magic from your enemies during a confrontation."
Mela squirms slightly. "Ama, I know all this already." Her teacher leans forward and pats her hand. "I know you do, Mela. I'm just trying to calm your nerves."
The young woman tosses her hair back over her shoulder, and shoots Amandine a haughty look through lowered eyelids. "Calm my nerves? Dear teacher, here's what will happen. I'm going to walk into the throne room, and all those silly courtiers and fops are going to fall all over themselves to worship at my feet."
Amandine smiles proudly. "That's my girl."
AdaptationCedric sips his wine, listening to an orchestra of crickets and cicadas echo through the cool night. A harvest moon looms just above the horizon, throwing soft orange light over the two figures seated on the balcony, and in the ruddy illumination, Dina seems almost young again. She catches him looking, but her days of blushing at his stares are long past.
"Cedric, love, what are you thinking about?"
What had he been thinking about? Time, thought, and memory seem to slip away from him more and more with every passing year. "Just basking in your reflected glory, my heart. I hope you won't begrudge me a bit of indulgent nostalgia."
Dina laughs, the same musical laugh that caged his heart so long ago. "You always were a poet as much as a paladin. It seems in your dotage, the former is harder to retire from than the latter."
He leans forward, then, and brushes from her face a curl of silver hair, turned fiery in the moonlight. He kisses her with comfortable familiarity. "For you, always a poet."
After a time of silent stargazing, he murmurs, "There is a question I had. For all the time we've known each other, every quest we ever completed, I never understood why they called you 'Void-Eater'. I get all the rest of the names - "
"
All of them?" she teases, but he waves it away.
"You know what I mean. Where did that one come from?"
She purses her lips, and considers the question. "If I recall... it came from a legend, far to the east, past the Dead Reaches. One of those exotic ancient civilizations had tales of fearsome practitioners called 'Void-Eaters', who consumed the vital spirit of all manner of supernatural creatures. Sucked the life right out of them. It's kind of grim, actually. Never my favorite epithet."
Cedric grins at her, an expression surprising for its youthfulness on so worn a face. He strokes her hair again. "Ah, but you see, my heart, no one gets to choose their own infamy, not even you."
She punches him lightly in the shoulder, and he laughs, long and hard. After a minute, she can't maintain the scowl, and joins him. The moon's light shades to silver as it rises, shimmering, into the ocean of stars.
Game Rule InformationEpicures have the following game statistics.
Abilities: Charisma and Constitution are the primary ability scores for an Epicure. Strength and Dexterity are important for an Epicure focusing on combat, and Intelligence is important for several of an Epicure's skills.
Alignment: Any.
Hit Die: d8
Starting Age: As bard.
Starting Gold: As bard.
Class SkillsThe Epicure's class skills (and the key ability for each skill) are Bluff (Cha), Concentration (Con), Craft (Int), Decipher Script (Int), Diplomacy (Cha), Disguise (Cha), Gather Information (Cha), Intimidate (Cha), Knowledge (Arcana, Religion, Nature) (Int), Profession (Wis), Spellcraft (Int), and Use Magic Device (Cha).
Skill Points at First Level: (4 + Int modifier) x 4
Skill Points at Each Additional Level: 4 + Int modifier
Table 1: The Epicure
Level | Base
Attack
Bonus |
Fort
Save |
Ref
Save |
Will
Save |
Special |
| 1st | +0 | +2 | +0 | +2 | Connoisseur, consume, digestion (intrinsic), relish |
| 2nd | +1 | +3 | +0 | +3 | Gourmand |
| 3rd | +2 | +3 | +1 | +3 | Savor (1st) |
| 4th | +3 | +4 | +1 | +4 | Moxie |
| 5th | +3 | +4 | +1 | +4 | Repast |
| 6th | +4 | +5 | +2 | +5 | Absorb Aura, savor (2nd) |
| 7th | +5 | +5 | +2 | +5 | Gourmand |
| 8th | +6/+1 | +6 | +2 | +6 | Digestion (enhanced) |
| 9th | +6/+1 | +6 | +3 | +6 | Savor (3rd) |
| 10th | +7/+2 | +7 | +3 | +7 | Assumption, greater relish |
| 11th | +8/+3 | +7 | +3 | +7 | Excellent moxie |
| 12th | +9/+4 | +8 | +4 | +8 | Gourmand, savor (4th) |
| 13th | +9/+4 | +8 | +4 | +8 | Feast |
| 14th | +10/+5/ | +9 | +4 | +9 | Digestion (delicious) |
| 15th | +11/+6/+1 | +9 | +5 | +9 | Savor (5th) |
| 16th | +12/+7/+2 | +10 | +5 | +10 | Improved Connoisseur |
| 17th | +12/+7/+2 | +10 | +5 | +10 | Gourmand |
| 18th | +13/+8/+3 | +11 | +6 | +11 | Savor (6th), superior moxie |
| 19th | +14/+9/+4 | +11 | +6 | +11 | Piquancy |
| 20th | +15/+10/+5 | +12 | +6 | +12 | Ascension, digestion (sublime) |
Class FeaturesAll of the following are class features of the Epicure.
Weapon and Armor ProficienciesAn Epicure is proficient with light armor and shields (but not tower shields). She is also proficient with simple weapons, as well as a single martial weapon, chosen when she enters this class.
Connoisseur (Su)An Epicure quickly gains a taste for a particular flavor of spell, and can always identify it. She chooses a single school of magic. Whenever the Epicure is within a range of 10 feet times her Charisma modifier of a spell or similar magical effect of that school, she becomes aware of it. She does not gain any information about the magical aura's strength, direction, or source, only of its presence. This ability is triggered both by existing magical effects, and by spells or spell-like abilities as they are being cast or activated.
Her chosen school also affects the Flavors that the Epicure learns through her Digestion ability, as well as other class features, as described below.
Consume (Su)An Epicure's signature ability is the capacity to consume spells and other magical effects, absorbing the energy for her own use. At will, she may attempt to consume a spell or spell-like ability as it is being cast by readying a standard action to do so, similar to a counterspell attempt. When readying an action to consume, she must select an opponent to whom she has line of sight and effect as the target.
Once the target casts a spell or activates a spell-like ability, she makes a Consume check (1d20 + her Epicure level + her Charisma modifier), using her readied standard action, against a DC of 10 + the spell's level + the spell's caster level. She need not identify the spell first. Whether or not the Consume check is successful, the opponent is aware of the attempt.
If the Consume check is successful, she consumes the spell, and it has no effect. Instead, she absorbs and stores 2 Gustation Points (GP) per level of the spell (0th-level spells count as 1/2 level for this purpose). Use the spell's level, not the level of the slot it was cast from, to determine the amount of GP absorbed. If the Consume check is unsuccessful, the spell functions as normal.
At any time, the Epicure may have a total number of GP stored equal to her Epicure level + her Constitution modifier. If she absorbs GP beyond this amount, the excess are lost. In addition, whenever an Epicure sleeps for 8 hours, she absorbs enough ambient magical energy to grant her a number of stored GP equal to her Charisma modifier (up to her normal maximum). The Epicure may use her stored GP to activate other class abilities, as described below.
Digestion (Sp)An Epicure exhibits a measure of mastery over the magical energies she consumes, and gains a number of spell-like abilities (henceforth called Flavors) which she can use by spending Gustation Points. The Epicure automatically learns the Intrinsic Flavor associated with the school of magic which she chose for her Connoisseur ability, and learns an additional flavor of her choice from the list of Intrinsic Flavors described below at 1st level and every level thereafter. See Epicurean Digestion, below, for more details on learning and using Flavors, as well as Flavor lists and descriptions of the individual Flavors.
At 8th level, the Epicure can begin learning Flavors from the list of Enhanced Flavors, and automatically learns the Enhanced Flavor associated with her chosen school in addition to the Flavor she would normally learn by gaining a level. At 14th level, she may learn Flavors from the list of Delicious Flavors, and automatically learns the Delicious Flavor associated with her chosen school in addition to the Flavor she would normally learn by gaining a level. At 20th level, she may learn Flavors from the list of Sublime Flavors, and automatically learns the Sublime Flavor associated with her chosen school in addition to the Flavor she would normally learn by gaining a level.
This ability also grants an Epicure the ability to create magic items almost as a spellcaster would. She may use her Epicure level in place of a caster level to qualify for Item Creation feats, and to determine the caster level of any item she crafts. In addition, when creating an item, she may make a Use Magic Device check to satisfy the requirement of a particular spell, the DC of which is 15 + the required spell's level.
Relish (Su)An Epicure relishes all magic she absorbs, whether or not she uses it to produce Flavors. At any time as an immediate action, an Epicure may spend 1 of her stored GP to gain one of the following benefits. Multiple uses of this ability do not stack.
- Temporary hp equal to her Charisma bonus (minimum 1), which last until used. Gaining this benefit erases any remaining temporary hp from a previous activation this ability.
- A +1 luck bonus on the next d20 roll she makes before the beginning of her next turn.
- A luck bonus equal to her Charisma bonus (minimum +1) to the next damage roll she makes before the beginning of her next turn.
GourmandAt 2nd level, and every 5 Epicure levels thereafter, an Epicure gains a bonus feat from the list of Epicurean Feats, described in the section below titled Epicurean Extras.
Savor (Sp)Beginning at 3rd level, an Epicure learns to savor and remember the magic she consumes. At will, the Epicure can replicate ("savor") the most recent spell of 1st level or lower that she consumed, as a spell-like ability. Activating this ability requires an amount of time equal to the casting time of the spell. The Epicure must also spend 2 GP per the level of the spell (0th-level spells count as 1/2 level), but if the spell is of her chosen school, it costs 1 GP less (to a minimum of 0 GP for a 0th-level spell of her chosen school). The DC of the savored spell (if applicable) is 10 + the spell's level + her Charisma modifier, and it has a caster level equal to her Epicure level. The effects of the savored spell are determined by the Epicure's stats and abilities, not the original caster's.
Use a spell's level, not the level of the slot it was cast from, to determine whether or not it can be savored. Consuming a spell of a higher level than 1st does not change the spell she can produce with this ability; however, whenever she consumes a new spell of 1st level or lower, the spell she replicates with this ability becomes the newly-consumed (and savored) spell. Every 3 levels after 3rd, the maximum level spell that the Epicure can savor increases by 1 (to 2nd at 6th level, 3rd at 9th level, and so on).
Moxie (Ex)An Epicure of 4th level or higher has a certain *je ne sais quoi* which comes from absorbing magical energy for sustenance. As long as she has at least 1 Gustation point stored, she gains an insight bonus equal to her Charisma modifier on Fortitude, Reflex, or Will saves (her choice). She may change which type of save receives this bonus by spending 1 minute in concentration.
Repast (Su)At 5th level, an Epicure enjoys sharing the magical meals of her allies. Whenever an ally successfully casts a spell or uses a spell-like ability, the Epicure can spend an immediate action to absorb 1 GP per level of the spell (she absorbs no GP with this ability from 0th-level spells). The ally's spell is not consumed by this ability, and functions as normal. The Epicure must have line of sight and effect to the ally to use this ability.
Absorb Aura (Su)Upon reaching 6th level, an Epicure can attempt to dispel and consume a nearby ongoing spell or similar magical effect as a standard action. This functions as a targeted
dispel magic, except as follows. The range of this ability is touch, so it requires a successful melee touch attack if used on unwilling subjects. This ability only affects the most powerful spell (the one with the highest caster level). The Epicure makes a Consume check against the spell's Consume DC, rather than a dispel check, and does not automatically succeed against her own spells. If successful, the spell is dispelled, and she gains Gustation Points and other effects as though the spell had been cast and she had consumed it.
An Epicure can also use this ability to dispel and consume area and effect spells. To do this, she must be within reach of the spell's area or its effect. Unlike an area
dispel magic, this dispels the entirety of an area spell even if she is too far away to reach the spell's point of origin. Unless the spell creates an effect with a defined Armor Class, the Epicure need not make a touch attack.
Unlike
dispel magic, this ability cannot suppress magic items; however, it can still dispel spells applied to them.
Assumption (Su)At 10th level, an Epicure has learned to become what she eats. As a full-round action, may spend all her stored Gustation points to transform into a being of pure magic. She remains in this form for 1 round per Gustation point spent, to a maximum number of rounds equal to her Constitution bonus (minimum 1 round). She may revert back to her normal form as a standard action at any point during this time, but does not regain Gustation points if she ends the effect early. Any additional Gustation points beyond her Constitution modifier are spent with no effect on the duration. If she consumes a spell effect with her Consume ability while this ability is in effect, she may not activate it again until the duration is complete, at which point it would require another full-round action to activate.
While this ability is active, an Epicure gains the
incorporeal subtype. Her armor grants her no armor bonus, and she cannot make weapon attacks with her held weapons while in this form.However, she can make a single incorporeal touch attack as a standard action, which deals 1d8 damage + her Charisma modifier. She gains a bonus on attacks and damage with this touch attack equal to twice the number of Gustation points she spent on this effect.
In addition, whenever an Epicure in this form spends an entire round within the area of the same non-instantaneous spell effect (which must have an area of effect rather than being targeted), she heals a number of hit points equal to the spell's level at the beginning of her next turn. She need not spend any actions to gain this benefit, only to remain within the same spell's area for the entire round.
Greater Relish (Su)Beginning at 10th level, an Epicure takes even more pleasure in the magic on which she subsists. The benefits granted by her Relish abilities improve as follows:
- The amount of temporary hp she gains increases to her Charisma bonus + her Constitution bonus (minimum 1).
- The luck bonus to her next d20 roll becomes equal to her Charisma bonus (minimum +1).
- The luck bonus to damage applies to all attacks she makes until the beginning of her next turn.
Excellent Moxie (Ex)An Epicure of 11th level or higher is even more of a go-getter, and can apply the bonus from her Moxie ability to two kinds of save instead of one.
Feast (Su)At 13th level, an Epicure's enjoyment of her magical meals grants benefits to her allies as well. Whenever an Epicure activates her Relish ability, she may choose any number of allies within a range of 10 feet times her Constitution modifier to receive the same benefit she does. The GP cost of the ability increases by 1 for every ally she chooses.
Piquancy (Su)Upon reaching 16th level, an Epicure finds the flavor of her chosen school particularly sharp and appetizing. Whenever she consumes a spell of the chosen school, she gains double the normal amount of GP.
Superior Moxie (Ex)An Epicure of 18th level or higher is simply the most motivated, sassy individual there is, and applies the bonus from her Moxie ability to all saves.
Improved Connoisseur (Su)An Epicure who achieves 19th level has broadened her palate, and finds more flavors of magic to her liking. She chooses two additional schools of magic other than her chosen flavor. She gains all benefits of her Connoisseur and Piquancy abilities, as well as the GP reduction of the Savor ability, with the chosen schools.
In addition, if and when the Epicure gains access to Sublime Flavors at 20th level, she automatically learns the Sublime Flavors associated with all three chosen schools; however, she does not automatically learn Flavors from earlier lists from the two newly-chosen schools.
Ascension (Su)At 20th level, an Epicure's body is irrevocably altered by all the magic she has consumed. She may activate or deactivate her Assumption ability at will as a swift action, and does not spend Gustation points to do so. The bonus to attack and damage for her incorporeal touch attack is equal to the number of Gustation points she has stored, and she may use her incorporeal touch attack in place of an attack as part of any attack or full attack action (i.e., if her Base Attack Bonus is +15/+10/+5, she can make 3 incorporeal touch attacks as part of a full attack action as normal).
Also, each round that she heals from remaining inside a spell effect's area, she heals an additional number of hit points equal to her Constitution bonus (minimum 0).
