Paka

Paka are an old and malevolent race of feline humanoids who live disguised in human settlements, sometimes for years, spreading misery before anyone guesses the truth. In their usual form they look like slim, fit humans. They are supple and astonishingly agile, though they kill any outsider who sees them show it. Females nearly always have orange hair that grays with age; males may have any hair color but dark brown. Their eyes glow red when light catches them.

A paka can shift toward its feline nature, growing a small dark nose, whiskers and sharp teeth, but it is no lycanthrope and cannot pass the trait on. In both forms it has retractable claws that only close inspection reveals. Paka are gifted linguists, usually speaking six or so human tongues besides their own, and many can talk with wereleopards and weretigers.

Cat people, as wandering fortune-tellers call them, are lithe, cruel fighters who toy with their prey. They can leap 40 feet horizontally with a running start, 15 feet from a standstill, or 15 feet straight up, and often pounce from hiding; when they gain surprise, their first-round damage is doubled. Their claws strike twice per round for 1d6 each. Many carry fine weapons taken from earlier victims, and thanks to their agility any small- or medium-sized weapon also strikes twice each round, at its normal damage.

A paka can telepathically command any normal cat within 50 feet, seeing and hearing through its senses; only anti-magic shell or a similar barrier breaks the link. To torment an enemy it may unleash a swarm of angry felines totaling 1d6+4 Hit Dice, pets in town and fiercer wild cats in the wilds. It heals itself by licking its wounds, recovering 2d4 hit points per day, and may also lick another's wounds once per day.

Cats make perfect spies and saboteurs. Gossip overheard through their ears can be twisted to set friends against each other, and cats can be used to arrange deadly accidents: a quilt pulled into the hearth, a heavy vase nudged off a mantel onto someone's head, clutter dragged onto a steep stair. Dogs are the best way to unmask a paka. Pets bark and bristle, feral dogs attack, and even werewolves in either form take an instant dislike, sensing something wrong without necessarily knowing what.

Vengeance is the paka's defining trait. Anyone who crosses one, hurts a fellow paka or spoils its schemes becomes the target of a plot by it and its closest friends, and if a paka is killed the whole pride arranges a slow, agonizing death for the killer. In public the paka of a town keep apart, but secretly they form a close pride, and one in danger can usually summon 3d6 others within an hour. They cannot use telepathy on one another but can pass messages through any cat.

Paka may take any class except paladin, bard, specialist wizard or druid, and many are multiclassed thieves. Thieves reach 10th level, gaining +20% to climb walls but losing 10% from both lock picking and pocket picking. Wizards reach 11th, always keep a cat familiar, and prefer mind-affecting spells, plus a handful of destructive ones like lightning bolt and fireball. Priests reach 8th level, cannot turn or command undead, and serve a mysterious figure called the Cat Lord about whom even they know little. Warriors advance without limit and may specialize; rangers are common, always choose humans as their species enemy, and attract 2d6 wereleopards as followers.

Wherever five or more dwell together, a priest of 5th level or higher leads them, his rulings respected as the Cat Lord's will though he has no real power to compel. Many such priests masquerade as kindly village clerics, an irony they relish and exploit to do far more harm than good. The race seems driven by revenge for some ancient wrong against its kind. No paka admits knowing what it was, or whether it happened in the misty dread realm or elsewhere, but all are certain humans were to blame, and they work deliberately to bring suffering on humankind.

Paka eat nothing but meat, a habit sharp-eyed adventurers have used to expose them. They do not mate for life, staying loyal to the pride instead, and have no concept of fatherhood. A female can bear young once a year, though most bear just one litter in their lives, of 1-6 kittens. Bonds with the mother are strong, and she and the whole pride teach the young their heritage and how to keep it hidden.