Shan Sao

The shan sao are tiny people, about a foot tall, built like stout, plump humans with deep orange or dark brown skin. Tangled mops of brown or blond hair fall to their shoulders, framing wide noses, faintly pointed ears and large cat-like eyes of green, blue or gold. Men and women alike wear long cotton smocks belted with rope, clean but badly sewn, so the hems drag on the ground. Besides their own language they speak the trade tongue and the speech of the animal court, tigers included.

Small as they are, shan sao are skilled fighters who bristle at any slight and pay it back at once, and they chase fleeing foes rather than let them go. They tolerate no trespass or disturbance, and loud noises, above all the crack of bursting bamboo, drive them to anger. All are immune to every kind of fear. A typical war party carries short swords (60%), darts (25%) or uchi-ne (15%).

Once a day a shan sao can cause disease simply by pointing at someone no more than 10 feet away. It can also, three times daily, polymorph into a bird, usually a crow, raven or other local bird, which accounts for its flying speed. Once a day it can summon 1-3 tigers from within half a mile, if any live there; they arrive in 1-6 turns, understand what the shan sao want, fight for them, and stay up to a full day or until no longer needed.

About 5% can cast spells as an eastern sorcerer of a level equal to their Hit Dice, so a 3 HD caster works as a 3rd-level sorcerer. Favorite spells are magic missile, ESP, stinking cloud, fiery eyes, suggestion, pyrotechnics, hail of stone, hold person, fog cloud and ventriloquism.

Shan sao settle deep inside dense bamboo groves, in simple thatched huts arranged around a shared cooking pot. A village holds 3-30 (3d10) males, half as many females, and children numbering 25% of the adults; one village in ten keeps 1-2 tigers as guardians that share the lair. Groups met away from home are always male, since the men hunt and defend, but the women, who have 1 Hit Die and otherwise equal abilities, fight to the death for their homes.

One adult male rules each village as king with absolute power. Every year the shan sao call their tiger allies to review his record. If the tigers approve, he reigns another year; if not, they name a replacement, and the shan sao always accept, with the old king stepping down gracefully.

They eat nearly any fruit, vegetable or grain, but love best the stew that simmers endlessly in the village pot, full of herbs, spices, fruit and meat, and smelling powerfully of onions, cherries and cinnamon. Odd as it smells, it is tasty and nourishing; one ladle sustains a human for a whole day, and rich lovers of exotic food have paid up to 1,000 ch'ien for one flask.