On the Razor's Edge, A Razor Coast Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Feral

Rigel tilted her head, soft brown eyes staring at the lock, before levelling her pistol and blasting it.

The door swung open onto an illicit drug/gambling den & brothel; unlicensed, but that wasn't Rigel's concern. For the moment. Stepping through the door, the gnome realised she was the focus of several pairs of eyes. She concentrated briefly and the air was suddenly full of blinding particles - and cries of dismay.

Maintaining her usual friendly manner, Rigel approached the closest patron, who was frantically trying to clear his eyes: "Hello! I would ask how you are, but I think I know the answer." Her voice was girlish and lighthearted. "Can you help me, please? I'm looking for Vakrel - apparently he's been rather naughty..."

To get the man's full attention, Rigel placed the still-warm barrel of her (reloaded) pistol against his neck. The man spluttered unhappily: "Working for the Dragoons now, are you? Weren't you one of us, once?" This was true, up to a point, but it's hard to be a smuggler when the bastards have confiscated your ship. Rigel debated with herself whether to explain this, but settled for clubbing him with her gun.

She sighed, mournfully, and ran a hand through her blue hair. Noticing the mark of a powder burn on her sleeve, she tutted and removed it with a quick word. "Won't you please tell me where Vakrel is? I don't want to be a bother - but I really do want to find him..."

It didn't take long, after that. It rarely did. Armed with the information, Rigel stepped back out into the night, in search of her target. There was a handsome bounty on Vakrel, and she was going to claim it. It helped that she believed in this job: rapist-murderers needed tracking down, in her view.

Sailor, smuggler, and now bounty-hunter, Rigel (pronounced 'wriggle') has had an eventful life, even by the standards of a gnome. Born in a sylvan woodland on another continent, Rigel's early life is something she doesn't talk about much. Her magical talents apparently manifested very young, and there were a number of 'incidents' (none fatal) that made her think that she was unwelcome. Leaving home, she has been wandering ever since.

Bad things can happen to an unwary gnome travelling by herself, but Rigel was lucky enough to fall in with some good-natured adventurers who adopted her. They were led by a gruff dwarven alchemist/gunslinger named Haskell, who fascinated Rigel, if only because he was utterly immune to her charm. Realising that she needed to make herself useful, the gnome applied herself to the study of alchemy. Her obsessive nature was a good match for the meticulous dwarf, who soon tasked her with crafting his ammunition. High praise indeed.

Sadly, good times seldom last and Rigel's happiness was torn apart (much like the party itself) when they were ambushed by a pack of ghouls. Her illusion magic was useless against such creatures and all she could do was hide in a tree until dawn, and the rising sun, drove the monsters away. Retrieving Haskell's (mangled) pistol from his half-eaten corpse, Rigel fled, sobbing uncontrollably. She still regrets not having been able to bury him properly.

For some reason, the pistol still worked for her, but she couldn't get it to function for anyone else. Aware that it compensated for her own weakness, Rigel modified it for her small size and practised with it regularly. Firearms are temperamental mechanisms, but Rigel's own force of personality is not easily withstood and she eventually mastered the weapon, regarding it almost as a pet rather than a simple tool. Unlike Eddy, her scorpion familiar, however, it doesn't make incessant demands for fresh meat and warmer weather.

Like so many wayfarers, Rigel was eventually drawn to the city and specifically the port cities. There's something about ports that seems to attract trouble - and adventurers. Rigel was no exception. She was thrilled to discover that the sea had its own siren call for her, despite not having grown up near it.

Taking employment on a merchant ship, the steady nature of the work quickly bored her and she took up more exciting (some might say disreputable) company. The ship she ended up on, Galleas' Way, was what is euphemistically called a "free company" and indulged in a mixture of activities. Here, Rigel prospered.

Her natural charm and abilities led her to the top very quickly, and she was entrusted with a number of commissions, perhaps before she was ready for it. Her mistake in smuggling goods into Port Shaw was in thinking that it was lawless. It turned out that in fact there is a hierarchy, and that you can't just do what you like without permission. The League did not take kindly to her smuggling activities - it was only some very fast talking on the gnome's part that left the crew alive, although the ship was confiscated.

That was nearly 30 years ago. Since then, Rigel has been living in Port Shaw, getting to know the place. She started off seeking work as an alchemist's assistant, but her natural talent for trouble quickly carried her into another path - that of the bounty-hunter. It's a nicer word than contract killer, although sometimes the lines get fuzzy (it's an imperfect world). Rigel's own view is that as long as she isn't drawing unwelcome attention from the Dragoons, she's probably on the right side of what passes for the law round here. Not that she cares overmuch about that, when the price is right. It may be in fact that Port Shaw is getting a little too hot to hold her for much longer - and there is in her ears, every day, the siren call of the sea - and of the camaraderie that comes with being part of a ship's crew...

Rigel looks adorable: with her button nose, soft brown eyes and wavy, blue-green hair, she could be a porcelain doll. That said, there aren't many porcelain dolls that could put just under an ounce of lead between your eyes from 20 paces; although she'd do it with the cutest expression on her face...

Rigel dresses to impress: smart, dark silks and clean, light linens (always spotless: magic does have its advantages) are something of a trademark style. Her beloved pistol is holstered in an elegant, rose-red satin cummerbund - when it's not being wielded with intent.

Her greensting scorpion familiar, Eddy, is usually perched on one of Rigel's shoulders; finding a colour to wear that doesn't clash with his carapace and her hair is one of the gnome's ongoing challenges. A skilled (and slightly obsessive) alchemist, Rigel spends a lot of time researching dyes, trying to find colours that will look good on her. It is rumoured that underneath all that fine clothing can be found a number of tattoos. Stories vary, but one constant tale is that of a pair of crossed flintlock pistols. There's no agreement (and some speculation) as to where. Rigel encourages these rumours, and may even have started some of them herself.

With her adorable looks, warm, friendly voice, and easygoing - often flirtatious - manners, Rigel has left a trail of broken hearts across Port Shaw. Her curiosity and inconstancy mean that she is often on the move and easily bored; a combination that is both charming and exasperating in equal measure. Sensible people accept her friendship when it's offered and don't go looking for anything more than that. There don't seem to be very many sensible people around.

By now a long-term resident of Port Shaw, Rigel is familiar with nearly all of what it has to offer and there aren't many areas she doesn't know well. Her job takes her to a lot of places, in many of which her fine silks and courtly appearance look extremely out of place. This, together with her short stature and friendly nature, leads some to underestimate her. Doing so is ... inadvisable.

Despite the solitary nature of her work, Rigel is gregarious and friendly. Indeed, recently she has been aware that she could do with some company. She sometimes misses the days with Haskell's Hitters (yes, that's what they were called; she wasn't consulted) and has found herself musing about the possibility of seeking out another adventuring group.

In combat, Rigel focuses as appropriate on debuffs (Colour Spray, Glitterdust), gunfire and battlefield control (Hydraulic Push). The plan is to add utility magic and then at higher levels some blast spells, usually with some debilitating metamagic feat attached to it (Dazing Fireball FTW!).

Out of combat, her skill set includes her professions, together with social skills and the alchemy she needs to craft her ammunition. She also has decent perception, while her small size and lack of armour mean that she can stealth it up when required.

Story

We are the Ng'ihaze, a tribe of fishers, hunters and warriors living in the furthest reaches of the Aizanes islands. A green-haired girl runs down a passage between two straw and mud huts amidst a variety of tropical plants. She bursts into a clearing in the middle of a busy village, men and women going about their daily business. Our tribe has lived here generations uncounted, in harmony with nature and peace with our neighbors as demanded by the Loa. As the young girl continues her sprint through the village, she passes an elderly woman kneeling down to place offerings in front of shrine consisting of a carved totem depicting an osprey. Our lives are not always easy, nor are we strangers to disaster. The girl runs through pouring rain and fierce winds, taking shelter inside one of the huts. Safe for the moment, she peeks out and watches in shock as a gust of wind uproots a tree nearby, toppling it onto one of the other houses across from her. But we have always survived, rebuilt and continued on. As the wise women say, 'So has it always been, and so shall it always be'.

And so it was, until they came. The girl, now in her early teens and with shoulder-length hair, stands among palms on the beach staring off at the horizon. Far in the distance a dark mass with white above it looms ever closer. They first arrived seeking trade and assistance, and our elders took them at their word and showed them the same respect we show the other tribes. Men load baskets of fruit and and two large boars into a landing craft that has been dragged up on to the beach. Several bronze-skinned warriors with spears and shields watch as they load the goods, and two village elders take a basket of various items back inland. In the distance a mighty sailing vessel stands anchored in the bay. Further up the beach the girl turns and runs to the village as she sees the elders approaching. Then they came for tribute, and our elders offered them riches so they would leave us in peace. The landing craft lays on the beach again, a different sailing vessel anchored in the distance behind it. Several men bearing muskets and wearing breastplates watch as villagers load baskets of fruits and game, pearls, precious metals aboard the boat. Off in the village, the girl lays with her head on a young man's chest crying, her waist-length hair splayed across his body. Blood runs profusely from several holes in his side and chest, staining her hair. They took what little we had, but it was not enough. Eventually they came again, but this time for us. Men in armor with muskets run through the village chasing down women and children. Others stand over those already caught, binding them together with ropes. The bodies of warriors lay piled haphazardly in the clearing at the center of the village. Off to the side, several men drag a younger woman screaming and kicking into one of the huts. Hidden in the dense foliage nearby, a green-haired woman forces herself to watch, her eyes filled with tears and her hand clasped firmly over her mouth.

I am Ng'ihaze, all that is left of my once-proud tribe. They have killed our warriors and taken my brothers and sisters into slavery. The village lies in ruins, remnants of huts stand smoldering off in the distance and much of the space in the periphery of the village is filled with hastily dug graves. At the clearing in the center, a funeral pyre lies unlit, the remains of an old elven woman atop it. In front of the pyre, a circle of white powder marks the ground. Within the circle lie offerings at various points, themselves surrounded by strange white symbols. On the side nearest the pyre lies a bowl filled with a thick red liquid. My grandmother was Pakeha, an honorable outsider living within the tribe, and eventually high shaman. She was also E'kelha, one of the elven folk from beyond the great sea. She lived among the village for half a century before she married my grandfather. The green-haired woman walks into the clearing bearing a lit torch and wearing a ceremonial robe. She walks to the pyre and lays a hand upon the old elven woman, bowing her head reverently. She thrusts the torch in the bottom of the pyre and then turns, walking slowly into the ritual circle. She gave all she had for the village, her wisdom guided us and her strength shielded us. The flames slowly spread along the base of the pyre from the torch. The woman reaches the center of the circle and turns to face the pyre, shrugging off the robe and allowing it to fall away, leaving her bare. They say she arrived on the back of a giant osprey spirit. Ni'guh, Wisdom, he was named, and the elders declared him Loa-khi, an emissary of the Loa. As the flames continue to work their way up the pyre, a raptor's cry pierces the still dusk air. A gust of wind lifts the woman's hair aloft as she raises her arms skyward and looks up. The wind fans the flames, causing them to leap further up the mound. A giant hawk, with black wings, a white chest and a wingspan almost as large as the clearing itself lands behind the pyre. Its golden eyes pierce the growing darkness, examining the woman before it.

I know now that he will pass beyond this world soon as well, without her anchoring his spirit here. I cannot allow that to happen, his strength and wisdom are needed still. My brothers and sisters cry for freedom, the elders call for justice, and the dead demand vengeance. Slightly shivering in the cooling night air, the woman kneels before the bowl of blood. Grinding the offerings with a mortar and pestle, she pours the paste into the blood and stirs it before dipping her fingers into it. The Osprey watches intently as she traces lines along her body, starting at the arms and working up to the shoulders and then down from there. The lines cross her chest, and over her heart she traces a mysterious rune. I am all that is left, so it falls to me to answer these cries. The Loa demand it. Since I have neither strength nor wisdom, I shall borrow what I can from Ni'guh. The Osprey seems to nod in the woman's direction as his form wavers and vanishes. The flames of the pyre finish their climb, engulfing the body of the elven woman. The green-haired woman falls forward, her arms crossed over her stomach as she cries out in pain. Her skin begins to blister and takes on a pale grey hue, the beginnings of black quills protruding from the blisters. Tonight I am reborn. No longer a child, no longer a woman, no longer Ng'ihaze. I am winged vengeance, I am a predator, and now the hunt begins. Where the green-haired woman laid a large Osprey rests on the ground. Stretching its wings, it gives a mighty flap once, twice and then launches into the air, grazing the flames of the bonfire as it flies off into the night.

Appearance
Mori's Appearance
Ni'guh's Appearance

Despite being a third-generation descendant of the only known Elf in the Aizanes islands, Mori has inherited a surprising amount of her grandmother's features. Her ears retain the elven points and her facial features are sharper than those of an average Aizanes-Tulita. Her most distinctive features are her flowing waist-length hair, the color of which resembles the leaves of a mature oak, and the copper color of her eyes. In the days before the slaver raids on her tribe, she dressed no different than any other member of the tribe. In the aftermath, however, she took up her grandmother's leaf armor, shield and scimitar, heirlooms she'd brought with her on her travel across the great sea. Ritual markings painted in a deep red adorn Mori’s skin, tracing unbroken lines from the markings on the backs of her hands to the one on her forehead, permanently set as a part of the ritual binding Ni'guh to her. In addition to her features, Mori has also taken up her grandmother's elven name so as to further hide her origins as Aizanes-Tulita names are distinct enough from Tulita to draw unwanted attention to her.

Shortly after her departure from the village she was joined by a small osprey, the reincarnation of Ni'guh who now serves as her spirit guide and advisor. In addition she has tamed one of the few Dire Osprey of the region, naming it Ni'num, or Strength. When needed she uses magic to reduce Ni'num to a more managable size, and occasionally sends him away if she needs to enter more civilized regions.

Female Human (Aizanes-Tulita) Druid|Shaman 4
CN Medium Humanoid (Human)

Init +0; Senses; Perception +16

Defense
AC 22, Touch 16, Flat-footed 17 [4 armor + 2 shield + 5 wis + 1 deflection]
HP 52/52
Fort +7, Ref +1, Will +9

Offense
Speed 30 ft.

Melee Scimitar +7 (1d6 + 4, 18-20/x2)

Special Attacks
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.

Druid Spells Memorized (CL 4)
2nd (2+1 slots) - feather fall (domain), soften earth and stone, reduce animal
1st (5+1 slots) - calm animals (domain), deadeye's lore, longstrider, obscuring mist, entangle, entangle
0th (4 slots) - create water, mending, purify food and drink, read magic

Shaman Spells Memorized (CL 4)
2nd (2 slots) - aid, <empty>
1st (5 slots) - cure light wounds, cure light wounds, commune with birds, <empty>, <empty>
0th (4 slots) - detect magic, guidance, light, stabilize

Shaman Spells Known (CL 4)
2nd (1/day) - barkskin, lesser restoration
1st (1/day) - charm animal, detect undead

Statistics
Str 18, Dex 10, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 19, Cha 12
Base Atk +3; CMB +7; CMD 22

Feats (R[i]ace, [i]Class, Bonus): (1) Extra Traits, (R) Skill Focus (Kn. Nature), (C) Alertness, (3) Toughness
Racial Traits Focused Study (Know:Nature, Perception, Stealth), Heart of the Wilderness
Traits Lucky Tattoo, Wisdom in the Flesh (Stealth), Finding Haleen, Beast of the Society
Skills Handle Animal +8, Know(Nature) +17, Perception +16, Sense Motive +7, Spellcraft +7, Stealth +12, Survival +19, Wild Empathy +5 Racial Modifiers +2 Perception, +2 Survival
Languages Common, Aizanes-Tulita, Druidic
SQ
Limited Use

Combat Gear Darkwood Shield, +1 Leaf Armor, Scimitar, Ring of Protection +1
Other Gear Ring of Sustenance
Treasure None

Special Abilities (Race)
Heart of the Wilderness: +5 to Con sv to Stabilize. +1/2 level racial bonus to Survival, and 1/2 level added to neg HP max.
Special Abilities (Druid)
Nature Bond: Animal/Feather Fly as Class Skill, Any flight granted by spell increases maneuverability by one step.
Eyes of the Hawk (Ex): 1/2 level racial bonus to Perception. +2 initiative if not surprised.
Animal Companion (Ex): Gain animal companion at druid level - 3. Ni'num, Dire Osprey (As Roc)
Nature Sense (Ex): +2 to Know(Nature) and Survival
Wild Empathy (Ex): Attempt diplomacy with animals, 1d20+druid level+cha mod. Animals or magical beasts with 1 or 2 int (at -4 to check) only.
Woodland Stride (Ex): Move through undergrowth at normal speed w/o taking damage or suffering impairment.
Trackless Step (Ex): Leaves no trail in natural surroundings and cannot be tracked.
Resist Nature's Lure (Ex): +4 sv. vs. Fey Su and Sp abilities.
Wild Shape (Su): (1/day, 8 hrs S/M animal) Assume animal form as beast shape I. Cannot speak or cast in animal form.

Special Abilities (Shaman)
Spirits (Su): Nature (Primary), Life (Wandering)
Nature's Whispers (Su): Add wis to AC and CMD instead of dex.
Channel (Su): (2/day, std act.) Heal 2d6 to all within 30' burst centered on you.

Spirit Animal (Ex): Gain Ni'guh, Osprey familiar (as Hawk). Must commune with animal for shaman spells.
Spirit Magic (Sp): Cast 1 spell/level spontaenously from spirit spell lists.
Hexes:
Speak with Animals (Ex): May speak with Osprey as if affected by speak with animals.

Wandering Spirit: (Life)

Gear Abilities

Melee Scimitar [+7 (+3 BAB + 4 str; 1d6 + 4, 18-20/x2]

+1 Leaf Armor (500gp + 1000 gp)
Heavy Darkwood Shield (107 gp)
Ring of Sustenance (2500 gp)
Ring of Protection +1 (2000 gp)