I know your sob story. It's written on your face, same as everyone else's. The world just rolled over and dumped you on your butt. Know you don't know how to get a roof and three squares without a coin in your pocket, and don't know how to put coin in your pocket without a good night's sleep and a full belly.
Luckily, we know all these things. Lots more of us than you, after all—all of us hungry and scraping but still getting by. We know what you can eat. Hell, we know who you can eat. The city streets aren't just a bunch of people; they're nature—screwed up, turned-around, greedy, grasping, vicious nature. You can be one of the lucky ones, riding on top of it all like princes in a yacht, thinking you're master of it all but never seeing a hint of what goes on for real. Or you can be like the rest of us: Down below, stinking of it and getting by like any other animal. You can be a deer or a squirrel, maybe, but I advise being a wolf, friend. Wolves don't come to such sudden and unpleasant ends. Ain't food for no one, except maybe those useless sorts who think they're on top, and you don't see their sort down here in the gutters so often.
We got a book right here: Make yourselves Heroes of the Streets. Blend in, bite back, and don't be anyone's meal ticket. Find a warm place to sleep and do it all again tomorrow. You can be scum like the rest of us—learn to be an Alley Witch, or a Street oracle, or a Slum Shaman—or sell your soul and work for the town guard as a Constable Cavalier or Lamplighter Investigator. The book don't care. You think you're too wild for the city? The book don't believe you. The book's seen Hunters and Bloodragers twist themselves—urbanize themselves—to fit this place before it ever saw the city twist itself to fit them. The book's got spells to make the best of the stunty little plants here and there, or to walk you big, mean monster pet right under a guard's nose. The book's got feats to help you get by in all the dark, forgotten bits every city seems to have. The book tells you where you people fit, so you can fit in with 'em, or spit in their eye for wiping you off their boots.
School transmutation; Level alchemist 1, antipaladin 1, bard 1, bloodrager 1, magus 1, sorcerer/wizard 1
Casting Time 1 standard action
Target up to three coins touched
Duration 10 minutes or until discharged
Saving Throw none; Spell Resistance yes (harmless, object)
You turn up to three coins into deadly projectiles that gain the velocity of a bullet when thrown. The coins retain their normal appearance but can be used as simple thrown weapons with a range increment of 20 feet and a critical multiplier of ×2. The transmuted coins are treated as ammunition for the purposes of drawing them. Like firearm bullets, the coins deal bludgeoning and piercing damage, and attacks with them are resolved as touch attacks within the first range increment. Regardless of whether a transmuted coin hits or misses the target, it is destroyed after the attack. Only you can make attacks with the coins, though other creatures can safely handle them without discharging the spell.
You can make a single ranged attack with a coin as part of casting this spell. Different types of coins create different bullet effects. Copper coins deal 1d4 points of damage. Silver coins deal 1d6 points of damage and count as silver for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction. Gold coins deal 1d8 points of damage and count as masterwork weapons. Platinum coins deal 1d10 points of damage, count as masterwork weapons, and are treated as adamantine weapons for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction and bypassing hardness. All coin bullets deal an additional 1 point of damage per 2 caster levels (to a maximum of an extra 10 points of damage at 20th level).
You think you've seen the worst the city has to offer? The book will teach you how to be the worst the city has to offer. It's short—just 32 pages—and easy to read. Just a few happy coins and the book is yours...