Alara Starbreeze's page

Alara Starbreeze
Half-elf bard (archaeologist) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Combat 32)
CG Medium humanoid (elf, human)
Init +3; Senses low-light vision; Perception +8
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Defense
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AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 9 (1d8+1)
Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +1; +2 vs. enchantments
Immune sleep
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee dagger +1 (1d4+1/19-20)
Ranged shortbow +3 (1d6/×3)
Special Attacks archaeologist's luck 7 rounds/day (+1)
Bard (Archaeologist) Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +3)
. . 1st (2/day)—heightened awareness[ACG], hideous laughter (DC 13)
. . 0 (at will)—dancing lights, ghost sound (DC 12), message, prestidigitation
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Statistics
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Str 12, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 14
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 14
Feats Point-Blank Shot, Skill Focus (Perception)
Traits fate's favored, scholar of the ancients
Skills Acrobatics +0 (-4 to jump), Bluff +6, Diplomacy +6, Disable Device +1, Knowledge (arcana) +7, Knowledge (history) +7, Knowledge (local) +6, Knowledge (nature) +2, Knowledge (planes) +6, Perception +8, Perform (sing) +6; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception
Languages Common, Elven, Thassilonian, Varisian
SQ bardic knowledge +1, elf blood
Combat Gear arrows (50), blunt arrows[APG] (50); Other Gear chain shirt, dagger, shortbow, backpack, bedroll, coffee pot[UE], flint and steel, pot, soap, thieves' tools, waterskin
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Special Abilities
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Archaeologist's Luck +1 (7 rounds/day) (Ex) Gain Luck bonus to attack, damage, saves, and all skills.
Bardic Knowledge +1 (Ex) Add +1 to all knowledge skill checks.
Elf Blood Half-elves count as both elves and humans for any effect related to race.
Elven Immunities - Sleep You are immune to magic sleep effects.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in dim light, distinguishing color and detail.
Point-Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.

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"I’ve seen ancient statues in the Cinderlands with better form than that, Gaven," Alara quipped, her voice carrying that effortless, melodic lilt of the Varisian road. She leaned against a fence post near the Sandpoint fairgrounds, the silver butterfly brooch on her midnight blue cloak catching the morning sun. Her opponent, a local guard puffed up by several pints of pre-festival ale, had just landed a decent shot on the hay-bale target, though his arrow wobbled in the wind. He gestured toward her composite bow with a scoff. "Easier to criticize than to hit, Starbreeze. Let’s see that 'lucky' streak you’re always boasting about at the Dragon."
Alara didn’t posture; she simply moved. In one fluid motion, she stepped to the mark, raven-dark hair whipping across her blue eyes as she turned, nocked an arrow and drew the bow back to her ear. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the Old Light looming in the distance, the soft creak of the bow and the center of the hay-bale. She didn't wait for the wind to die; she felt a sudden, inexplicable warmth in her chest and loosed.
The arrow didn't just fly; it hissed, striking the center of the bullseye with a violent thwack that split Gaven’s shaft clean down the middle. As the crowd gasped, Alara was already unstringing her bow, a cheeky, lopsided grin on her face. "It’s not just luck, Gaven—it’s knowing that the stars already decided where that arrow was going to land. Besides," she added, her voice dropping into a dramatic, low-toned oratory that mimicked the cadence of an old Thassilonian legend she’d decoded with Brodert Quink, "the ancients say that those who miss the mark at the Swallowtail are doomed to be the first ones the goblins find. And I’ve got too much digging to do in the Hinterlands to end up as goblin bait." She winked, adjusted her cloak, and started toward the cathedral, her stride brimming with the restless energy of someone who knew the festival was only the beginning of her journey.

Alara cuts a striking figure, her short raven-dark hair framing eyes the piercing blue of a clear Varisian sky, all set against the shimmering steel of a well-worn chain shirt and her signature midnight blue cloak. She carries herself with a fluid, restless grace—the sort of effortless confidence that comes from truly believing she is "Desna-kissed".
To her neighbors in Sandpoint, she is a whirlwind of feisty independence and sharp-tongued wit, relating to others with an easy, magnetic charm that shifts seamlessly from nerdy excitement over a dusty Thassilonian relic to a fierce, protective warmth for her community. She doesn't just walk into a room; she arrives with the breezy, infectious air of someone who expects the best of every situation and has the uncanny luck to usually be right.