From publisher blurb:
The first weapons were not forged in fire. They were carved from stone, shaped from bone, honed by survival. Before men tamed the earth, before they built great walls to keep the wild at bay, they fought with nothing but their hands, their minds, and the sharpest edge they could find.
The Flint Warrior walks the path of the first hunters, those who mastered the weapons of nature itself. They are not brutish brawlers, nor are they soldiers who march in formation. They strike like the wind, as precise as a falcon’s dive, as swift as the claws of a sabertooth. Where others rely on brute force, the Flint Warrior thrives on agility, accuracy, and instinct.
To them, combat is a hunt. They do not waste movement, nor do they fight without reason. A Flint Warrior watches, waits, and when the moment is right—they strike. A single well-placed cut from an obsidian blade can end a fight before it begins. A precisely thrown spear can fell prey from a distance. They know the weak spots in every beast and every man, and they strike where it hurts most.
Born from the Hunt, Forged by Instinct
A Flint Warrior’s journey often begins with the first kill. As a child, they were given their first spear, their first knife—a weapon not of iron, but of the land itself. They were told to watch the elders, to learn the ways of the hunt. How to track. How to move unseen. How to strike when the time is right. Their first hunt was clumsy, their first kill was messy. But they learned.
Others found the way of the blade through battle, not the hunt. Perhaps their tribe was raided, their home burned, and they were left to fight with nothing but their own hands and whatever sharpened rock they could grasp. Or perhaps they were trained from birth, warriors of a people who knew that survival meant being faster, smarter, deadlier than the rest.
And then there are the exiles, the ones who walked the land alone, forced to fight not just for their tribe but for their own existence. These warriors learned that the land provides, if only one is sharp enough to take what it offers. They honed their craft on their own, testing every strike, every throw, every movement against the dangers of an unforgiving world.
Masters of the Blade, Predators of the Battlefield
The Flint Warrior is a precision killer, a fighter who wastes nothing. Every movement is calculated, every strike deliberate. They do not wade into battle with reckless abandon; they dart between blows, land quick, bleeding strikes, and vanish before their enemies can react.
They wield the weapons of their ancestors—flint-tipped spears that pierce like the talons of a great bird, obsidian knives sharper than any metal, bone clubs that shatter bone in return. Their weapons are an extension of themselves, shaped by their own hands, honed with care, carried with reverence.
But more than their weapons, they know how to fight. They can read an enemy’s stance, sense their weakness, predict their attack before it comes. They know how to wound, how to cripple, how to turn a simple cut into a fatal blow.
The Hunt Never Ends
Among their people, the Flint Warrior is both respected and feared. They are the ones who hunt the great beasts, who defend their kin without hesitation, who know the dance of battle as intimately as they know the pulse of the land.
To those who see them fight, they are lightning-fast, relentless, and terrifyingly efficient. To their enemies, they are the last thing they will ever see—the gleam of a flint blade, the whisper of air as a spear flies, the final, sharp pain before the world fades to darkness.
The Flint Warrior does not fight for glory. They fight because they must. Because the wild does not spare the weak. Because in a world where only the strong survive, they are the sharpest edge of all.
This is a full 5e Class, with a description, Unique Abilties and Level progression up to 20th Level, for a Prehistoric setting.