The body is just meat that hasn't been told what it could be yet.
Every settlement has someone who'll do the work the field medic won't. Cut a graft out of a raider's corpse and stitch it under your own skin because it does something the old skin didn't. Bleed a stranger for the parts of them still worth keeping. Flesh-mancers don't build machines and they don't pray — they treat the body, living or dead, willing or not, as raw material with more settings than anyone bothered to try. It works. It's just never, ever clean.
Chosen at 1st level. Grants a second feature at 7th and a capstone at 15th.
Boil-sacs, bile lances, blood grenades — the graft leaves your hand and does its work on someone else's body instead.
Patch-grafts, sutures, transplants performed at speed and, when needed, without consent. Keeps a party alive; keeps a captive talking.
You are your own greatest experiment. Temporary monstrous forms, claws that weren't there this morning, a second set of ribs when you need the cover.
Wasting curses, weaponized fevers, a cough that spreads faster than the cure. The bloodline that treats suffering as a tool with a long handle.
Each day you Cut a number of Grafts from your Vitae pool. Push a Cut past your training — improvised, rushed, done on the wrong table — and you risk a Bloom.
| d8 | Result |
|---|---|
| 1 | Weeping Wound — you take persistent bleed damage. |
| 2 | Overgrowth — a grotesque growth impairs a limb; circumstance penalty to relevant checks until treated. |
| 3 | Fever Dream — you're stupefied until the end of your next turn. |
| 4 | Rejection — the Graft fails outright; the Vitae spent is wasted. |
| 5 | Feral Twitch — your body spasms; you're off-guard until the start of your next turn. |
| 6 | Blood Hunger — you must Cut again, on yourself or someone nearby, before the scene ends. |
| 7 | Runaway Mutation — a random minor permanent mutation, for better or worse. GM and player pick it together. |
| 8 | Total Bloom — GM's call. A Flesh Saint takes notice, or something Hive-adjacent starts. |
| Lv | Class Features |
|---|---|
| 1 | Bloodline, The Cut, Vitae Pool, Graft Formulas known, Scavenge Flesh, initial proficiencies |
| 2 | Skill feat, Flesh-mancer feat |
| 3 | General feat, skill increase, expert Crafting |
| 4 | Flesh-mancer feat |
| 5 | Ability boosts, ancestry feat, Vitae Mastery (larger pool, Mk II Grafts), skill increase |
| 6 | Flesh-mancer feat |
| 7 | General feat, skill increase, master Fortitude, Bloodline feature II |
| 8 | Flesh-mancer feat |
| 9 | Ancestry feat, skill increase, Bloom Control (reroll one Bloom/day), expert Class DC |
| 10 | Ability boosts, Flesh-mancer feat |
| 11 | General feat, skill increase, Greater Cuts (Mk III Grafts), master Crafting |
| 12 | Flesh-mancer feat |
| 13 | Ancestry feat, skill increase, master Will |
| 14 | Flesh-mancer feat |
| 15 | Ability boosts, skill increase, Bloodline capstone, legendary Crafting |
| 16 | Flesh-mancer feat |
| 17 | General feat, skill increase, Grand Cuts (Mk IV, legendary Grafts) |
| 18 | Flesh-mancer feat |
| 19 | Skill increase, Flesh Apotheosis |
| 20 | Ability boosts, Flesh-mancer feat, The Second Skin |
A representative loadout, not an exhaustive list. Crimson bar = general access. Rust bar = Bloodline-flavored but open to all.
Choose one, permanently: become symbiotic with a fragment of a Flesh Saint, gaining a passive regenerative or adaptive trait — or transcend ordinary fragility, becoming resistant to poison or disease and immune to your own Blooms.
Once per day, shed your current body for a fully mutated battle-form for one minute: dramatically boosted stats, total immunity to Bloom. When it ends, you're drained 2 until a full rest. For sixty seconds, you're not wearing the meat anymore — you built something better out of it.
New to Cinderfall: the bio-pillar counterpart to the Machine Spirit Gods — patrons formed when enough desperate flesh-magic, poured into the same wound for long enough, starts answering back.
Born in a mass grave-turned-nursery, where enough desperate mothers and field-healers poured hope and blood-magic into keeping infants alive through the Long Fall that something coalesced and started listening back. She appears, if at all, as a shifting many-armed silhouette wrapped in half-formed newborn faces, none of them finished, none of them screaming.
She grants healers and grafters an uncanny surgical luck — the cut that shouldn't have worked, the transplant that takes on the first try.
Formed from a quarantine camp's dead — never buried, never quite silent, singing the same fever hymn until the voices stopped being separate. Grants plague-workers a grim resilience and the conviction that suffering, correctly aimed, means something. Favored patron of the Plaguewright Bloodline, though the Choir will deal with anyone willing to get sick for a good enough reason.