The Darkest Corners (Inactive)

Game Master Nidoran Duran

Tiefling (Small Grimspawn) Occultist 4, Investigator 1
NG Small Outsider (Native)
Init +3; Senses Perception +8 (+9 vs Traps), Darkvision 60 ft., Scent

DEFENSE

AC , touch , flat-footed (+ armor, +3 Dex, +1 size)
hp (5d8+10)
Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +6
Resistance: Cold, Fire & Electricity 5

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft.
Melee +5 Bite (1d4+1)
Ranged +8 Pepperbox (1d6, x4 20ft., 6/6)

Extracts
1st - Heightened Awareness, Shield, X

Spells
2nd (2/day) - Blur, Locate Object, Warp Wood
1st (5/day) - Silent Image, Comprehend Languages, Feather Fall
0 - Ghost Sound, Detect Magic, Message

Inspiration (4/4)

Implements (12 Focus power daily)

Divination
Resonant Power - Third Eye (Improves vision)
Flash of Insight (1p) Swift Action to grant +2 insight bonus on: ability or skill check, attack roll

Illusion (Ring )
Resonant Power - Distortion (Concealment: 5% per point, max 5% +5% /2 per level)
Minor Figment (1p) Ghost Sound or Minor Image (4 rounds)
Unseen (1p self, 2p touch) Invisibility (4 minutes)
Recast Unseen (1p, intermidiate action)

Transmutation
Resonant Power - Legacy Weapon (Enchantment quality equal to points/3 [max +2])
Psychic Weapon (1p) Swift Action to grant 1 weapon a +1 enchantment bonus (1 minute)
Burst of Speed (1p) Swift Action to gain +30 ft. Land speed (1 minute)

STATISTICS

Str 13, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 20, Wis 10, Cha 13
Base Atk +3; CMB +2; CMD 15
Feats Grasping Tail, Create Wondrous Items, X
Traits Blood Stalker (Race), Child of Nature (Religion)
Skills Acrobatics (5) +11, Appraise (1) +9, Bluff (5) +9, Climb (1) +5, Craft, Diplomacy, Disable Device (5) +13 (+14 vs traps), Disguise, Escape Artist (1) +7, Fly, Heal, Intimidate, Knowledge (Arcana, 1) +9, (Religion, 1) +9, (History, 1) +9, (Local, 1) +9, Linguistics, Perception (5) +8 (+9 vs traps), Perform, Profession, Sense Motive, Sleight of Hand (5) +13, Spellcraft (5) +13, Stealth (5) +15, Survival (5) +10 (+12 on tracking damaged foes), Use Magic Device (5) +11
Languages Common, Infernal, Halfling, Gnome, Dwarven, Goblin
SQ: Maw, Nr 53, Fiendish Resistances, Skilled (Disable Device, Sleight of Hand), Prehensile Tail, Trapfinding 1, Inspiration, Implements (Illusion, Transmutation, Divination), Mental Focus, Magic Item Skill (+2), Object Reading, Shift Focus

Gear worn: Headband of Vast Intelligence +2, Mwk Pepperbox (Holstered)

Formula Book: Heightened Awareness, True Strike, Shield, Polypurpose Panacea, Reduce Person

Reciet
-4000 Headband
-1050 Mwk Pepperbox

Physical

Eyecolour: Red
Haircolour: Light brown
Defining trait: Eyes, (tail,) wide mouth filled with sharp teeth
Height: 2'11"
Weight: 30 lbs.
Clothes of choice: Dresses in dark colours, cloaks with hoods. All with as many pockets as possible.

Much to the malign of the more sensitive sorts, Miranda smile and laugh alot showcasing her impressive set of pointy teeth. When encountering a prospective witness or victim the first time, she keeps her eyes fixed on her notebook. This combined with her short statue keeps most of them from spotting her tiefling features during the interview, until it is over and she looks up to give them a thankful grin.

Personal

Favourite colour: Deep Purple
Favourite food: spicy fish soup
Favourite drink: Anything served in an interesting cup, chilled peach liquor or dark coffee (occupational hazard)

Miranda inherited most of her emotional traits form her halfling parents and as such she is optimistic to a fault, curious and (mostly) fearless. The racial wanderlust that afflicts her people is something that she didn't inherit, but an equal thirst to learn new stories replace it. She has a deep fascination for baubles and trinkets, collecting them for the tales they tell.

Youth
Mirandas parents belonged to a rare subset – free Egorian halflings. Successful conservators they made a living resorting the nobles family artefacts and heirlooms too delicate for the tall folks to handle, yet to precious to entrust with slaves. Considering the popularity of Devil worship and occultism in Cheliax, especially among the wealthier upper class, it was no wonder that a significant portion of the artefacts exhibited some sort of magical taint – the use of obscure or poorly performed rituals were actually a frequently stated reason for the item to need some repair work. They did the best to protect themselves with both warding circles and protective spells, but the near constant exposure to the fell energies left their taint. Nothing obvious, no. The insidious corruption only revealed itself in their first daughter – Miranda.

For blood-red eyes, fully formed razor sharp teeth and a pointy tail were certainly not what one expected healthy halfling babies to have.

The pair was shocked and horrified at what their child was – a Tiefling, a creature tainted by evil itself. Yet they could not blame the young child for its predicament, they knew fully well that the responsibility lay solely with themselves and their line of work. Deciding to not risk exposing their young daughter to any more unhealthy influences the pair promptly packed up their business, sold their home and moved to Absalom within weeks of her birth. The market for their particularly brand of skills weren’t as highly treasured in the City at the Centre of the World and instead of highborn heirlooms they mostly refurbished goods scavenged from the Cairnlands. Nevertheless, they never regretted their decision: Miranda grew up quite normal, never succumbing to any thirst for chaos, mayhem and destruction (well, not more than normal for a growing child). She did however exhibit an uncanny connection to trinkets – with a mere touch they would sometimes whisper their secrets to her.

Finder
When Miranda came of age she had already developed a healthy curiosity for relics of ages past. When she helped out in her parents shop, it was always the oldest objects that had the best stories. Broken blades told tales of valour and cracked cups spoke of chilling betrayal. As such is came as no great surprise when she took her first job on an archaeological expedition undertaken in the Cairnlands to excavate the site of an old battle. On that line her life continued for a few years. Sometimes she worked alone or with just a few fellow scavengers, sometimes as part of a larger effort like her first expedition.

Then, one day she found her most curious finding yet. She was working for an old and decrepit mage together with a handful other hired hands. They didn’t know each other very well but quickly bonded over the campfire, complaining about their employer - the fervour and desperation of which the ancient wizard sought what was buried in the ground led him to enforce long days and few breaks. Worse yet, he refused to tell them exactly what they were looking for! Each time they found something he would come over, then mutter in disappointment. Until she found the box that was. It didn’t look like much – just a tiny metal cube with a stripe of faded parchment attached. Tired after a long day of work, she dutifully called over the withered man.

As she waited she examined the box – and as many times before she hear the item whisper. It showed her a spire so vast that it pierced the sky, so sharp and narrow that it couldn’t be the work of mortal hands. It showed her a large procession of featureless men and woman walking though the nothing towards the looming spire. Then, one of the forms stepped out of the line – laughed and turned his back on the spire. A shudder of confusion and jealousy the procession halted for a moment, turning to look. But in an instant, the man was gone and the procession continued their slow walk towards the inevitable.

The scene disappeared before her eyes, the box ripped out of her hands by their employer. Gleefully the old man laughed and retreated back into his tent. Disoriented and for once without the watchful eye of their employer, Miranda and the workers unanimously decided that the day was over and retreated back the camp. At the wake of dawn, they woke from the shrieks of the lookouts. Dazed and confused Miranda looked around before finding the intruder – a man wearing ancient robes standing in the middle of the camp, in front of their employer’s tent. Somehow she recognized him, she knew he was the man that the box had shown. The man flicked his wrist and the tent withered away – but it was empty and its former occupant long gone. With a soul-curdling shriek the man turned around and gazed into the camp, his empty sockets alight with eerie blue fire. The occasional risen skeleton or zombie was an occupational hazard she had long learned to deal with, but this was something different. Miranda turned her tail and ran, ran like she never had before, not stopping or looking back before she was inside the gatehouse of Absalom.

Lost and Found
She spent the following months looking over her shoulder every few moments, but she never saw those fiery eyes she feared again. But it took a long while before she dared to venture out into the Cairnlands again – long enough that she had to look around for another way to earn her keep. And after her last job, she would prefer to work for someone she knew wouldn’t ditch her in the middle of the night with an undead abomination. After some deliberation and briefly trying a number of more mundane, but less rewarding, professions she and an epiphany. If she was her own boss, she *knew* she could trust her boss! Thus “Miranda’s Lost and Found” was born, her very own detective service.

Putting her unique talents to use, she specialized in solving those harder missing person/break-ins that the ordinary watch had already given up on. Eventually, she would also start taking commissions to procure specific items again – but always with an extensive background check first. The city guard where proficient enough to solve many of the mundane crimes, so the ones moved over to her table frequently involved strange circumstances and almost supernatural phenomena’s. There were many times that the victims ramblings where dismissed as the ramblings of a madman, but considering what she herself had seen that terrible night – whom knew what lurked in the darkness?
After numerous cases Miranda felt that she had a pretty good, if bleak, picture.

The Box
Curiosity and a lingering feeling of dread kept Miranda to always come back and review her on case given time. She sneaked and bribed her way into many private and prestigious libraries, seeking lore on the undead and The Box. She had since long identified the Spire that The Box had shown her – it had an eerie resemblance to the Boneyard of Pharasma where the souls of the dead journeyed to their final judgement. But what became of that dreadful Box? And why did her former employer seek it with such zeal?

Dreaming
The Starstone fell from the sky beyond our world – now it rests within the most dangerous places in the known world. But imagine what stories it could share – of worlds beyond ours, of the ascension of gods!

Name: Erasmus Ames
Wanted: Alive
Crimes: Conspiracy, Nighthawking, Disturbing the Peace
Reward: 5000
Notes: Suspect was last seen fleeing north into the Mana Wastes following the Urstradi River. Considered to be armed and dangerous.

Erasmus Ames was never bothered by the corruption in the Shieldmarshalls. He took his bribes the same as anybody else, looked the other way for the right people the same as anybody else, neglected unimportant details the same as anybody else. It was just an ugly word for the grease on the cogs that kept the Clockwork City running smoothly, and his polished badge and oiled six-guns didn't shine any less for it. After all, the hours were long, the Wastes were brutal, and justice doesn't come cheap in the City of Smog. Greasy palms and greasy guns are what kept the mutants at bay and everybody knew it, so it didn't bother 'ol Raz one bit. That is, until the day he found himself on the wrong side of it.

Maybe it was political, maybe it was personal, but Erasmus Ames didn't stick around long enough to find out. He high-tailed it out of the Grand Duchy out into the Spellscar just as fast as his horse could take him. The snipers on the wall didn't even waste their ammo trying to pick him off; everybody knew that a lone rider, ill-equipped and unprotected, was as good as dead out in the Wastes - if they were lucky. If not - well, the life of a mutant is never very long anyway.

At least, that's what they thought. For his part, that's what Raz thought too, until he stumbled across one of the ruins. The Wastes were littered with them, the last remains of thousand-year-old cities blasted off the face of the planet during Nex and Geb's pissing contest of magical holocaust. Teams of outriders came through every so often and cleared the mutants out of them ahead of trade caravans traveling through the desert. Raz was familiar with the ruins, having cleared some of them out himself (and finding some trinkets to line his pockets with beside). But off the main highways you were taking your chances. It was a lucky break for Mr. Ames; there was no better time for taking chances. He rode that luck all the way through the desert, escaping on the other side into Nex. He worked his way north, guarding caravans all the way through Nex and Katapesh. He took a liking to Katapesh; a man like him could find a lot of work and make a lot of coin. He took a liking to the pesh, too, and found many ways to spend a lot of coin. Too many ways and too much coin. Plagued by debt and pesh nightmares, he took a desperate job, signing on to guard some whackjob scholarly expedition following some phony map out to some secret forgotten ruin in Osirion.

Sometimes looks can be deceiving. That was only the first lesson Raz learned on that expedition. He also learned that 'guard' translates roughly as 'expendable trap fodder' in Osiriani, to always bring a mirror into the tomb with you, that his shiny badge makes a surprisingly good mirror, and to never take an artifact without leaving a sandbag in its place. But the most important lesson of all, the one rule to hold to above all others, is that, when it comes to mummies, shoot first and ask questions never. Aim for the head, always make sure to double-tap, and burn the remains for good measure.

It didn't take long to become disillusioned with the treasure-hunting scene in Osirion. The thing about 'scholarly expeditions' is that the most dangerous jobs always seem to pay the least. Mr. Ames was used to putting his life in danger for petty monetary compensation, but the only thing worse than mutants are mummies. One close call too many and he finally decided he was done with 'guard' work. He was ready to get out of Osirion, with the 'scholars' and the 'collectors' ruining things for solid, honest adventure capitalists like himself. But he'd need a partner if he was ever going to strike it rich. Foreign lands and foreign tombs call for good friends to have your back. There was only one man that Erasmus Ames knew he could trust, and he'd always given Raz a frosty welcome.

From the moment they met, Baqir Iskandar and Erasmus Ames were doomed to make history. It would be the history of desperate fools, bad ideas, and success that comes at too high a price. Geb was a bad idea, possibly the worst, and it had been his. They escaped with their lives, but they would live with the scars. There aren't many terrors worse than pesh nightmares, but forbidden knowledge is one helluva drug.

Raz is good for two things: fodder and killing weird things real good. He has a special hatred for mummies and Mana Waste mutants. He has a good mix of Knowledge skills and investigative capability with Sense Motive and Survival, but he's not here to be the super sleuth.