Mighty Hand of the Occult Master

Mighty Hand of the Occult Master – Pathfinder Golem Template

What mere physical gift could possibly please such an undying sovereign over all reality, both the seen and the unseen?

These massive mystical hands – crafted with a loving care bordering on obsession – float in utter silence, moving eerily at the will of their owner, ever-ready to serve in a war of spirit & spell-battle.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

original image from here

Mighty Hand of the Occult Master is an inherited template that may be added during construction to any shield guardian golem. A Mighty Hand of the Occult Master uses all the base creature’s statistics and special abilities except as noted here.

Challenge Rating: Same as base creature +1.

Speed: A Mighty Hand of the Occult Master gains a magical Fly speed equal to one half of its base land speed with a Perfect maneuverability. In addition, it may use levitate (self only) at-will; this ability functions at a caster level equal to its hit dice, but is always powerful enough to keep the Mighty Hand of the Occult Master aloft, no matter its weight.

Special Qualities:

Fine Manipulation: Although the Mighty Hands of the Occult Master are utterly enormous in size, the wearer of the amulet may freely use them for precise & delicate work – such as mixing bombs or potions, scribing scrolls and even turning the pages of a spellbook – without difficulty or the expenditure of concentration.

Potent Casting: As long as the wearer of the amulet is commanding at least two Mighty Hands of the Occult Master within 30 ft. (which are not currently grappling or otherwise restrained) the wearer is always considered to have her hands free for all spell-casting and spell-like ability purposes – such as Kinetic Blast, Gather Power and other kineticist class abilities – as well as for the use of her somatic components, even if she is paralyzed.

Distant Delivery: As a free action while casting a spell with a range of touch, the wearer of the amulet may designate an adjacent Mighty Hand of the Occult Master as the “toucher” for purposes of that spell. The Mighty Hand of the Occult Master can then deliver the touch spell just as the amulet’s wearer would; as usual, if the wearer casts another spell before the touch is delivered, the touch spell dissipates.


The core physical materials of a Mighty Hand of the Occult Master cost an additional 15,000 gold above the base shield guardian’s cost; the Craft check required to sculpt the “body” is likewise 2 higher than normal for the basic shield guardian. In addition, the keyed amulet used to control such a creature costs an additional 10,000 gold above the base cost for a shield guardian. Finally, the spell spectral hand is added to the construction requirements of the base golem.


Campaign Note: In the modern era of the Age of Lost Omens, it is all but unknown for any mage – no matter how powerful – to set about the arduous and expensive task of building such a device as a Mighty Hand of the Occult Master, let alone a small armory of the objects.

Amongst the most skilled and gifted worshipers of Nethys in the days of Ancient Osirion, however, discussion of the exotic techniques involved in crafting items of such elegance & power was commonplace parlor-talk, and no gift to a Pharaoh could be more highly-valued.

At the height of the Age of Destiny, it is known that several high priests of the All-Seeing Eye’s faith flew to war against an unknown foe upon the palms of immense clay golems bound and constructed in this way.  Several amulets and “steeds” were lost in the conflict, but it is rumored that some might yet remain intact … hidden somewhere deep in the unforgiving desert sands.


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Dear Richonne Fam, and those who aren’t but follow me:

I’ve been MIA all week, and had a long drought of fan fic and posts and have neglected anons because I’ve been stressed about work stuff.  Long story short, I had a new job offered to me, I took it, and at the end of the month, the woman basically ghosted me on payday.

I’m reaching out to the fandom for job leads in the Southern California area–Hollywood, Burbank, San Diego, Orange County, etc.

Y’all know I’m a writer, and while any job in that field would be awesome (fiction, scripting, interviewing, reviewing, etc.), I am open to whatever is paying.  Admin, clerical, marketing, whatever.  Yes, I’m aware of Uber/Lyft/Postmates, etc, and I’m looking into those as well (even though I don’t have a car), but I’m looking for guaranteed paychecks if I can swing it.  Anyone with any leads, please PM me.  I’ll send a resume, as I am dead serious.

Anyway, in Richonne/TWD news…may have made some headway in regards to a certain contest taking place.  We’ll see.  We shall see…

Monastery of the Broken

Chapter 2

“People have been looking for you, Samael,” she said softly. He had led her out of the chapel and to the gardens. Flowers bloomed around them, his fingers dancing over the petals as they passed. He was dressed in all black, the only thing missing was the clerical collar. She knew he wouldn’t have one, but she could imagine how he’d look with one.

“Whether people have been looking or not, I found my way here,” he told her, brows furrowing the same way a small child would when trying to explain something they deemed ‘hard’. “I have made my home here.”

She was confused to say the least. Lucifer was not one to say that a place like this was his home. He lived off of whiskey and sex. He lived off of what she could only describe as sin. This place was a place he’d make a mockery of. He’d lash out, criticise. This wasn’t his home, his home was with her. In that moment, with that thought, she thought of herself as selfish. She’d gone all this way for her own agenda.

She fell a step or two behind him, trying to think of what to say. What was there to say? Hey, I’m sorry that I yelled at you and called you out on your bullshit. I miss you. I love you. If he didn’t remember her, how could he remember his feelings for her. She could only imagine it as if you knew somebody when you were young, somebody you forgot about until a memory hit like a steam-train.

“Your name isn’t Samael,” she called out. He stopped, his fingers lingering over the red funnel shaped flowers. The stems looked like grass, the flowers blooming at the top like a puzzle. “At least not the person I knew. You’re him. I know you won’t believe me, but believe the things I’m going to tell you. You drink whiskey like it’s water. You own suits costing probably more than my car. Trixie misses you, asking when you’re coming back. How do I tell an eight year old that I don’t know where her friend went? You called Dan ‘Detective Douche’. You have scars on your shoulder-blades, perfect crescents. You told me it’s where you had Maze cut off your wings. I may not believe the wing portion, but I do believe something did happen to you. Even if you don’t believe anything before the scars, you can’t tell me that you don’t have them.” He toyed with the flowers, subtly moving his shoulders as she mentioned them.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking at her after a moment. “I can agree with the scars, but I don’t remember anything else. I don’t even know how I got them.” She took a deep breath.

“What does your name mean?” she finally asked, playing along if only for a moment. He smirked, something she missed dearly. But it wasn’t as he usually did. This was laced with sexuality and desire. This was one of the true smirks he saved only for her. He only showed it when he was truly happy.

“Light bringer. I was Father’s favorite. Always was.” That much hadn’t changed. He remembered that much. His smile faded, a glimpse of pain shooting across his face before dissolving quickly into a sad smile. She walked up to him, his fingers still toying with the flowers. Glancing down, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the name of the flowers. Crocosmia Lucifer. Oh the irony.

“Samael, people have been looking for you. I understand that you’ve made a home here, but you have people back in Los Angeles who haven’t stopped looking for. You have people who care about you.” His eyes lit up, but quickly dimmed. It was a flash of the person she knew.

“I…I don’t know, Detective.” His brows furrowed, and she sighed with a nod. Pulling out her phone, she took a few steps back to let him have some space. She could tell by the look on his face that he was concentrating on something, hoping it was something that could make him remember her – to remember them.

Her fingers ran across the numbers as if playing a piano. She smiled as the person on the other end answers. “What?” Maze bit out, harsher than Chloe would have liked. Despite living together, they’d had their differences – especially when it came to Chloe and Lucifer finally getting together.

“Maze, I found him,” she breathed out, keeping her voice hushed so that he wouldn’t overhear. She didn’t need to freak him out any more than it appeared she already had. “He’s in Huasna. And you won’t believe where at in Huasna I found him.” She walked a few paces back and forth, waiting for Maze to answer.

“I-I don’t even know where Huasna is, Chloe!” Maze practically yelled at her. “Just tell me he’s safe.” Chloe had to admit that she could be a little jealous of Maze at times. It was obvious that the other woman loved Lucifer much like Chloe did, but Lucifer’s reaction to it was different. While he cared for Chloe and loved her back, the love he showed for Maze was different. It wasn’t so much romantic as it was an infatuation, a comfort that he’d had for God knows how long. By the sounds of it, they’d known each other a long time, and there was nothing that could break that bond.

“I found him at a monastery, Maze. Monastery of the Broken. He doesn’t even remember his name!” All sounds stopped on the other side of the line, and she glanced at the phone, making sure the call hadn’t been disconnected. When she was assured the call was still going, she put the phone back up to her ear.

“What does he think his name is, Chloe?” the other woman asked. For the first time since Chloe knew her, she heard fear and insecurity laced with her words. Maze was not one to falter, never showing a sign of weakness. However, when it came to this particular instance, Chloe had an inkling that maybe Maze knew something that she wasn’t letting on.

“He thinks his name is Samael.” Something shattered on the other end, and Chloe jumped, not expecting it. She looked over at Lucifer who still had a look of confusion on his face, but his eyes had drifted shut and as she watched his mouth move silently, she could only assume that he was praying again.

“You need to bring him back, Chloe. I don’t care if you have to drag him kicking and screaming!” She didn’t understand what was going on with Maze, but her tone let on a lot more than she might be willing to admit out loud. The fear, the betrayal, the caring laced in those harshly said words was enough for Chloe to understand.

“I will,” she promised before hanging up the phone and putting it back in her pocket. She gave him a few more seconds before she walked back over, placing her hand gently on his. His eyes opened, and he looked at her. It seemed like it was the first time they’d made full eye contact that wasn’t broken since she’d gotten there. Each time before, he’d glance away quickly.

“Come back home,” she practically pleaded with him. “I miss you. Trix misses you. Hell, even Maze misses you. Please.” She could only imagine how she looked to him, pleading with brows furrowed and a look of anguish on her face. She’d come this far, and she’d be damned if she was leaving empty handed.

“I’ll leave with you,” he finally said after a few moments of seemingly endless silence. “On one condition. I stay with you. You seem to be honest about the things you’ve told me. I want to believe that you’re not lying, I want to trust you. And with trusting you comes trusting you entirely.” She nodded, letting out a small sigh.

“Do you have any belongings with you?” she asked. She had a feeling she knew the answer already. If he’d shown up beaten and not remembering anything, there was a slim chance he had anything other than the clothes he’d worn in.

“I have a couple of things. I’ll grab them and meet you at the front doors.” She nodded, watching him walk away. A part of her was terrified he’d run again like he’d ran all those months ago. That still didn’t add up in her mind though. Jophiel found him beaten and bloodied with no memory, yet he’d willingly walked out of the apartment and told her not to follow him. She could understand if she’d found him as he’d left, but she couldn’t figure out how point A connected to point B.

She walked back the way they came until she stood by the wooden doors. Looking out, she thought the place was serene. It was mostly hidden in the woods, surrounded by trees that looked like they hadn’t been touched by human hands in centuries – if not ever. The breeze blew her hair gently, and it didn’t smell like smog. If she were to never have found him, at least he’d have been at peace here.

“You seem to be lost in your thoughts, Detective Decker,” Jophiel said from beside her, causing her to jump slightly. He was quiet, looking out on nature like she had just been doing.

“I’m just thinking about this case. It doesn’t all add up,” she admitted. “The last I saw him, he was telling me to not look for him, and then you tell me he shows up bloodied and beaten. It just…” She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts.

“It doesn’t make sense yet. I’m sure in time it will.” She looked at the man again, gathering all she could from the way he held himself – self-assured, maybe a little arrogant, but very pure. The vibe he gave off wasn’t threatening, it was tranquil.

“Tell me, from the beginning,” she told him. He nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I had woken at sunrise like I always do to prepare for the day. It had been raining the night before, so I went to check on the buildings. As you can tell, they’re fairly old and even though they’re sturdy, I always like to make sure they’re secure after a rain. I was inspecting the outside of the chapel when I came upon him.

He was shivering, lips were blue, completely soaked through. I had no idea how long he’d been out there. So, I brought him in. With the help of a couple of others, we got him warmed up, got him fed. We tried asking him early on what his name was, but he couldn’t give us an answer. Two days later, when he was lucid we asked again. He said his name was Samael. We pushed for anything else, but he told us fairly quickly that he didn’t know anything else. He couldn’t tell us where he was from, how he’d gotten here. He didn’t even know where he was.

There was something odd right away though. He knew the scripture by heart. He could recite every line of the Bible without looking at it. I’ve only seen a few people able to do so, and none of them seem to have the background you make it seem like he has. These were people who were raised in religion and who had continued their spiritual path. But, he seemed to be a man of God at the time, so we let him stay. And that’s how it’s been since you arrived today.

Most of the time, Samael would be praying or reading through the religious texts we have here, but it didn’t seem like he was studying them like many do. It was as if he was reading them for the thousandth time. I found it very odd, but I never questioned it.

Then, you show up and tell me he’s been missing for six months. I feel sorry that we kept him, I understand your pain. Had we known, had I known that he was really a missing person, I would have reported it to the authorities, but you do have to understand one thing. We get a lot of drifters or people trying to start over. Had we reported every single person who walked through those doors…” He shook his head, and she understood entirely.

She didn’t reply as the doors opened. Lucifer stood there still dressed in the black attire. In his hands were his suit – she recognized it as the same one he’d walked out of the apartment in – his wallet, and his phone. The wallet seemed to be damaged, and she would guess the contents were in the same condition. His phone was shattered. It would be a miracle if it would work, let alone turn on.

“I’m ready, Detective,” he said softly. She nodded as Jophiel shook his hand one more time. Walking to her car, her heart was pounding. She’d really found him, he was safe and alive. Now came the hard part. Why couldn’t he remember anything? And who was Samael?
Keith Ellison’s Saudi Arabia Trip Included Meetings With Jihadi Cleric, Bank That Funds Jihad Homicide Bombings - The Geller Report
Ellison, now a leading candidate to head the Democratic National Committee, was brought to Saudi Arabia for a two-week trip by the Muslim American Society (MAS), a group founded by members of the Muslim Brotherhood to act as its “overt arm” in the United States.

anonymous asked:

"What made you want to become a cleric?" - a curious pre-teen squire (blue-shifted)

“Oh - umm…” The squire’s question caught Rosanna off guard, lowering her book down with hesitation. As the answer was clear in her mind, it proved rather laborious to speak.

“B-because I want to help people…and I don’t like seeing them in pain.” Short and simple. She did recognize the boy some time back within the Stronghold’s halls; appeared out of no where with brimming enthusiasm to chat. It made her feel…intimidated. Raziel was his name she believed, feeling guilty for nearly forgetting his name.


My cleric half-elf dnd character, Roux Estaire.  ╰(・∇・╰)

Roux is a follower of the Church of Gallus, a religion that recognizes chickens as our rightful Gods and Masters. She’s a traveling acolyte on a pilgrimage to spread her faith.

Frat DnD Hilights 2
  • Cleric: I toss the light-stone into the crypt! *Rolls 20*
  • Me: You have spent entirely too much time skipping rocks, as such you rebound the rock against three pillars and two skeletons before it comes to a clean stop in the center of the room.
  • Cleric: ...So I can see them all?
  • Me: Yes.
  • ---------
  • Me: You're not a bard, but screw it roll Performance.
  • Fighter: OKAY. *Mediocre roll*
  • Me: Well you don't exactly remember the words but you can hum furiously while fighting.
  • Fighter: AWESOME.
  • -----------
  • All The Dwarves: So...can we use the Elf as a weapon?
  • Me: ...Hey Elf what's your Armor Class?
  • ---------
  • Cleric: I want to bless the bomb.
  • Me: The bomb that was made illegally by an alchemist who clearly was no bomb expert and hastily threw something together in twelve hours?
  • Cleric: Which is why I want to bless the damn thing.
  • ----------
  • Me: You stare into the Skeleton Warrior's empty eye sockets and see only the cold black abyssial Void staring back at you.
  • Me: Alright intimidating a skeleton that's-
  • Fighter: NO! I wanna intimidate the Void.
  • Me: ...The cold black unfeeling existential darkness?
  • Fighter: Yeah that.
  • Me: Fuck it why not.
  • Fighter: *nat 20*
  • Me: .........You stare into the Abyss and it absolutely stares back. Given your ever-shifting mental state you don't take in the abstract and horrifying nature of oblivion but rather stand defiantly, blatantly giving shape to the shapeless and a name to something that should not be named. At the End of All Things something turns, being actively defied by a mortal, and it hesitates. It cannot stand even an unwitting rival and it will react accordingly - because a primal force made afraid is a terrible sight to behold.
  • Fighter: So I intimidate it?
  • Me: Yup.
  • Fighter: Awesome.
  • Cleric: Oh my god we are going to die.
  • --------------
  • Me: The ghouls retreat into their tunnel.
  • Cleric: Well if ever there was a time for that bomb, let's seal them in!
  • Me: Alright let's see how this thing goes. *Nat 20*
  • Me: *sets up Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture Finale*
  • Me: The alchemist, having known nothing about proper explosives, pretty much tossed in every volatile horrible thing he could into the 'bomb.' And as your God looks favorably on grandstanding gestures of epic stupidity, he extends his mighty claw down to bless this bomb. You hear a distant roar and a blinding light before the cleansing fire erupts through the Ghoul Tunnels. Above ground, a number of graves explode outward while dozens of ghoul corpses charred beyond recognition fall and litter the graveyard while ash quietly falls in the aftermath.
  • Cleric: Holy shit we have another one of those.
  • -------------
  • Fighter: Rob him!
  • Cleric: No! He'll kill the HELL out of us.
  • Fighter: Hey if you're going to do something stupid at least see it through like I do!
  • ------------
  • Cleric, Elf, and Dwarf: ...So to appease the Void we're gonna sacrifice the Fighter.
  • Me: ...Yeah alright make the rolls.
  • Fighter: *is murdered in his sleep*
  • Cleric, Elf, and Dwarf: Wow that was....well, we're all in tender emotional states. See you next time. *they exit*
  • Me: ...Hey, Fighter.
  • Fighter: Sup.
  • Me: ...Want to be the Avatar of the Void and fuck shit up on a global scale?
  • Fighter: Would it be me doing more stupid shit with no reason with godlike powers?
  • Me: Pretty much.
  • Fighter: I love you Skippy.

Hi hi hello! I wanted to show you a thing I made.

They’re Social Justice Class pins! I got them in the mail yesterday! I’m pretty excited about how they turned out.

Here’s the deal: these will debut at GeekGirlCon in Seattle, on October 11th & 12th. They will be on sale for $2 each, or $10 for the set, all proceeds go to Planned Parenthood. :D I’ve also gotten a number of requests to make them available online. That’s too be determined! I promise I am looking into it.

I really just made these for fun, though. They’re supposed to be a playful poke at the idea of a Social Justice Warrior. Because why be a Social Justice Warrior, when you can be a Social Justice Rogue? Or a Social Justice WIZARD?!