About Alleria HawkinsThey'll never look for me here... But then, she could never be certain. She'd hidden for years in Eleder, it was true, working under a cut-rate gunsmith and drinking in his knowledge of the craft like fresh, clean water. Before that it had been Port Peril, washing and bussing tables in a tavern with a hood pulled low over her face. Before that it had been Quent, living cloistered in a brothel with the paradox of her Calistrian caretakers both endorsing her father's murder and indoctrinating her in hatred for his killer. But even now, as she boards the Kaava Cutter from Eleder harbor, the lower half of her face is covered in a square of linen. To keep the bugs and the stray black powder from crawling up her nose, she claims - her words a hiding place as much as her improvised mask. She may be bound for a new life as a shopkeeper's daughter expanding the family business, but there's never a guarantee the wrong eyes aren't watching. Never too careful. Once, she'd never given a second thought to care or caution - what cause would Zarah bint Hahn an-Nizam have to fear? Her father, Hahn an-Nizam, was one of the Shackles' most celebrated lords. After running from Rahadoum to try his fortunes, he clawed and scratched his way from cabin boy to captain with blinding speed, earning his anchorage on Motaku Isle in the Free Captains' Regatta when Zarah was only five. For nine years, he had plied the waters of the Shackles, taking what he deemed his and giving nothing back, a wealthy and esteemed prince of the Arcadian Ocean's fringes. He'd gotten a child on one of the esteemed courtesans of the House of Stolen Kisses soon after gaining his captaincy, and child-rearing wasn't exactly good for her business. So Zarah had spent all her life on her father's ship, the Abendego Jewel - every sailor as good as an aunt or uncle, and all doting on their captain's greatest treasure. She learned to swim and climb nearly as soon as she learned to walk; her young hands held cutlasses and guns as often as they held a pen. At fourteen, just beginning to blossom into womanhood, everything was looking up for the young pirate princess. And then...it wasn't. For Hahn an-Nizam had made enemies in his climb - enemies all too ready to cut the ropes that held him aloft. Zarah - no, Alleria - remembered the night all too well. The Jewel had been berthed in Quent, around the shore from her father's own anchorage on the south of Motaku Isle. She'd been strolling through the open market there, enjoying the smells of the spice stalls, fingering fine Jalmeray silks and smooth linnorm-tooth charms...and then she saw the pillar of smoke rising from the harbor, and the rough, briny-smelling hand had clapped over her mouth. She kicked and struggled - and then she saw the face. It was her father's own first mate Yousif al-Zahran, the angry snarl on his lips doing little to conceal the worry in his eyes. Lissen t' me if y' know what's good for ya! he snarled, leaning in close to look her face to face under the cover of rough intimidation. 'S Cotto Pahmar - that captain what your father beat in 'is Regatta. Come back for revenge, 'e has - always believed your dad had taken his lordship through cheating...and t'ain't no revenge sweeter to 'im than takin' everything o' your dad's. Everything. And suddenly, Zarah understood. Her own father had been even-handed, magnanimous (or at least not cruel) in his victories over others...but she'd seen first hand, too many times, the victims of captains who valued that gentleness less. They were part of everyday life in the Shackles - women selling their scar-covered, mutilated bodies for whatever coin they could scrape, one-armed slaves being sold for menial labor...beautiful prisoners in gilded cages enslaved to their masters' lustful, violent whims...grisly trophies hung by the neck on a mainmast, when they served best as a lesson to the crews the victor had inherited... Go. Fight me and run. To the House of Stolen Kisses. Find your mother. Tell them your father's been wrongfully murdered - they'll give you sanctuary. Now. She felt the butt of a pistol pressed into her hand, and she knew what she had to do. But leaving him lying on one of Quent's filthy streets with a lump the size of an egg on his forehead was the hardest thing she'd ever done. She ran - fair flew - to the brothel her father had frequented, a sacred place of Calistria. The attendants had rebuffed her with a sneer, disbelieving her out-of-breath story...until their head had emerged, a willowy Mwangi woman in floaty, sheer silk and nothing else. You said...Hahn's daughter? And with those few words, the woman who'd given Zahra life took her in...for her best customer's sake. But Celiwe wasn't the mothering type - had never been. There were no reassurances, no embraces for the grieving princess-in-hiding; instead, she was shunted to the purview of some of the House's lowest acolytes, kept in a secret room beneath the House and left alone to descend into loneliness and despair. What's next? she wondered, playing with the dripping wax of her candle. ...is this it? For good? And then the House had a new client - a poor man dressed in rags, missing one foot and reeking of sweat and sulfur. And yet Celiwe, the most celebrated of the House's attendants, was taking the man to her private chambers for a long, drawn-out appointment, and there were squeals of delight coming from behind the closed doors...where Zahra was reunited with her father's long-time friend once more. The injury was penalty from the Jewel's new captain, Yousif explained - according to Lord Pahmar, a man who couldn't outrun a little girl had no need of his feet, nor his keep as part of a ship's crew. So plans were made, and under cover of darkness, a man and woman left the House of Stolen Kisses, glancing around furtively as they made their way to Quent's dock. Riding in a ship's cargo hold instead of the fore chambers was new to Zahra - but it beat a windowless room in the back of a brothel, and the two would need all their money for what lay ahead. They stayed in Port Peril only as long as it took to arrange passage for the long journey to Eleder; it was as far as their limited funds would take them, and the further they got, the safer they were from Captain Pahmar's search. Their former names were discarded, traded for Chelish ones - after years of intermarrying and social mixing Garundi and Mwangi with colonial names weren't uncommon in Eleder, and it was one more layer of protection from unfriendly eyes. Anyone looking for Hahn an-Nizam's wayward daughter was looking for a Rahadoumi-Mwangi girl of means...not a poor Sargavan craftsman and his daughter returning to their ancestral home to start over. And so, Marcus and his only child Alleria set sail for Eleder, everything they owned on their backs, hoping to use their craft of gunsmithing to make a place for themselves in an unfamiliar Chelish colony. Sounds familiar... Alleria Hawkins
Human mysterious stranger gunslinger 1
----- Defense -----
----- Offense ----- Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. with backpack)
----- Statistics ----- Str 11, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 12,Cha 14
----- Special Abilities ----- Grit (Ex) A gunslinger makes her mark upon the world with daring deeds. Some gunslingers claim they belong to a mystical way of the gun, but it’s more likely that the volatile nature of firearms simply prunes the unlucky and careless from their ranks. Whatever the reason, all gunslingers have grit. In game terms, grit is a fluctuating measure of a gunslinger’s ability to perform amazing actions in combat. At the start of each day, a gunslinger gains a number of grit points equal to her Charisma modifier (minimum 1). Her grit goes up or down throughout the day, but usually cannot go higher than her Charisma modifier (minimum 1), though some feats and magic items may affect this maximum. A gunslinger spends grit to accomplish deeds (see below), and regains grit in the following ways. Critical Hit with a Firearm Each time the gunslinger confirms a critical hit with a firearm attack while in the heat of combat, she regains 1 grit point. Confirming a critical hit on a helpless or unaware creature or on a creature that has fewer Hit Dice than half the gunslinger’s character level does not restore grit. Killing Blow with a Firearm When the gunslinger reduces a creature to 0 or fewer hit points with a firearm attack while in the heat of combat, she regains 1 grit point. Destroying an unattended object, reducing a helpless or unaware creature to 0 or fewer hit points, or reducing a creature that has fewer Hit Dice than half the gunslinger’s character level to 0 or fewer hit points does not restore any grit. Deeds (Ex) Gunslingers spend grit points to accomplish deeds. Most deeds grant the gunslinger some momentary bonus or effect, but there are some that provide longer-lasting effects. Some deeds stay in effect as long as the gunslinger has at least 1 grit point. The following is the list of base gunslinger deeds. A gunslinger can only perform deeds of her level or lower. Unless otherwise noted, a deed can be performed multiple successive times, as long as the appropriate amount of grit is spent to perform the deed. Deadeye (Ex) At 1st level, the gunslinger can resolve an attack against touch AC instead of normal AC when firing beyond her firearm’s first range increment. Performing this deed costs 1 grit point per range increment beyond the first. The gunslinger still takes the –2 penalty on attack rolls for each range increment beyond the first when she performs this deed. Gunslinger’s Dodge (Ex) At 1st level, the gunslinger gains an uncanny knack for getting out of the way of ranged attacks. When a ranged attack is made against the gunslinger, she can spend 1 grit point to move 5 feet as an immediate action; doing so grants the gunslinger a +2 bonus to AC against the triggering attack. This movement is not a 5-foot step, and provokes attacks of opportunity. Alternatively, the gunslinger can drop prone to gain a +4 bonus to AC against the triggering attack. The gunslinger can only perform this deed while wearing medium or light armor, and while carrying no more than a light load. Focused Aim (Ex) At 1st level, as a swift action, the mysterious stranger can spend 1 grit point to gain a bonus on all firearm damage rolls equal to her Charisma modifier (minimum 1) with all firearm attacks she makes until the end of her turn. At 7th level, when she uses the dead shot deed, she multiplies this bonus by the number of hits she made while rolling the Dead Shot attack. |
