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Alleria had grown up on board a pirate ship - violence and grisly injuries had been a part of her life from the first. The ship's doctor was usually the one responsible for actually taking care of the cuts, infections, and amputations, but Alleria'd been foisted off on them enough times, when she'd been particularly troublesome. Maybe I should have paid a little more attention...wait! "This one's wearing an Abadaran symbol! Not many wearing that around her - she's got to be working with that Banker we saw. But...I think you're right, Akosua. Burying them's going to take too long, and it looks like we've got bigger things to deal with here. You said these were Song'o weapons, Nsizi? If that's the case, that means they've been here...even if they weren't responsible for the initial attack, they definitely came poking around. I'd say seeing about them's our next step, once we're finished here."
"Wait...so they were killed by claws...but the good parts of the meat were cut away? So, that means these Song'o have to be using beasts to help them - their pets did the killing, then the masters did the butchering. It's the only thing that makes any sense...right?"
Watching the bandolier come up, Alleria peers down into the well, seeing the weapon and coins still at the bottom. There was only one thing to do... "Lower me in. We need all the information we can get, and that stuff down in the water is information. If something goes wrong, I...I climbed a lot of trees as a kid. I'm still a fair hand at climbing - I can get myself out."
Sense Motive DC19: But you and her both know her story about tree-climbing's not quite true...
The dinos' sudden appearance had surprised Alleria, and it had been hard to get a clear shot at the beasts in the melee that followed. But with two of the dinosaurs taken care of, Alleria shouldered past Akosua and Min, taking aim and shooting. Ugh, this shot loses half its power this far off...
I've got a bad feeling about this. Alleria's low mutter was joined by a soft thump as she jammed a small ramrod down the pistol of her barrel, tamping her bullet and powder in place. This doesn't look like animals - what kind of animal smashes through a door like that? That means we're likely dealing with something that really meant to be in there...come on. Let's see if there's any windows we can get a peek through, see what we're up against.
"...and then, boom! The fuc- the silly thing blew up, right in my face! I'm standing there holding the thing, soot stains everywhere, head ringing with the noise, burns all over my face and arms I'd not even noticed yet...and do you know what my first thought is? Oh, no...this was my favorite shirt!" Alleria's gun had kindled curiosity when she'd hung it high off the floor next to the door and warned the children sternly not to touch it; when it was clear that just saying "no" wasn't going to do the trick, it was time for more...illustrative examples. But just to be safe...she'd left it unloaded, and kept her cartridges in her pockets. Better that way. (She didn't like leaving it unloaded and that far from her, but they were guests in someone else's house - it would have been rude, and dangerous, to carry it at hand. And it was close enough by that she could run for it if the need presented itself.) Of course, she left out the part where that first shooting practice had been at the age of five years old. That she'd been fooling around by herself while her father was distracted sailing himself into lordship of a spit of rock jutting into the Shackles. That her target had been a wine bottle she'd drank the bottom quarter of herself. And that the gun she'd been playing with was purloined from one of his mates, who at the time had been slumped over the table holding a bottle of rum they'd used in a pinch for cooking fuel. Those...those were details best left out. Tender ears and all. Leaning in close, she stage-whispered the conclusion. "It took weeks for my eyebrows to grow back."
Half of the pie may have been gone...but half was still there, and that was way better than none. Alleria reached forward for one of the remaining slices of pie, licking the gooey yellow remains off her fingers with gusto (and with a furtive glance at Minercuria). Vethorn's asked us to look after a shipment he sent out a little while back but never got paid for - he's looking either for the cash or the goods returned to him. He's offered us a discount on weapons for the trouble - damn good of him.
The rain wasn't exactly raising Alleria's spirits...but sitting around at town didn't accomplish much. I'm liking the sound of getting going now - Sheriff Praet sounded kind of anxious, and any walking we do today's less we've got to do tomorrow. Plus, the longer it rains, the deeper the mud's going to get. If we've got a place we can get to this evening, it seems like the best way to go.
Alleria started to speak up...then came to a somewhat jarring realization. I've got nothing to leave behind...I spent all I'd saved up just to make enough ammunition to buy me a few days' time to get set up...I can't leave my sleeping things here and risk getting caught in the woods for a night... "Plenty soon enough," she responded to the banker's query with a confidence she didn't feel. What if I've made the wrong choice, relocating here? What if it all goes wrong and I'm left with nothing?
"Just admiring your work - and you make it look effortless. Vethorn, was it?" Alleria responded, giving the half-elf man a warm smile. "I'm hoping to spend some time getting better acquainted with your work; you and I have similar interests, and I was hoping I could pick your brain for the best supply lines for metals. Do you get most of your steel sourced from around here, or is it mostly shipped from Eleder? What about lead - is it easy to find? Are you familiar with which trees around here make the densest charcoal?" "Also, Sheriff Praet sent us - she said you might have something that needed doing up toward Fort Breakthrough? Myself and some others are headed in that direction, if you had an errand that needed running."
"You're right - I've got no problem with it." Alleria replied, standing her ground before the wizard. "I relish the day we've got prettily paved roads and constables on every corner, because you're right, it makes things way easier for me. We're both working for the sheriff here, remember? But look around - we're not there yet, to that pretty, perfect little dream harbor. In a little while, we're trudging between a couple of muddy ruts cut through the underbrush, going to a fort where the lawkeepers, the ones who are supposed to be in charge, have gone completely silent. For all we know, they've been swallowed up by the jungle you want to pretend doesn't exist. "I've got this place's good at heart - I want to see it grow, too. I'm a part of this now, and I'm glad to be working under the sheriff. But when you're on the trail and a jaguar jumps for you, you can't just pass that to your superior and call it good. You can't just run to your higher-ups when your cart gets stuck in a pothole five miles from anywhere and night's falling. At some point, you've got to be ready to make decisions, to do what has to be done so everyone gets through. And guess what? It's the people willing to act that rise to the top, when - if - your utopia finally wins out."
Works for me. If it's not too late I'll get caught up later - busy night last night, dentist's for a mouthful of fillings this morning.
"We'll go see to these others that needed errands run to the fort - no reason we can't do as much as possible if we're going anyway," Alleria volunteered. "Maybe we should split up to go see everyone, figure out what it is they need and meet back up at the Stone Hall in a couple of hours? I'll go pay a visit to this smithy - I'd meant to make a call there sooner rather than later anyway." Jonas here might have saltpeter to cure his meats, and the healer will likely have sulfur to treat fungus...long as this smithy carries all the metals I need, I'll be set to keep everything in working order. If not, maybe this Oyin woman can arrange something.
As they departed the sheriff's office, Alleria pulled Min aside. "Listen...maybe we got off to a bad start. It's just, words are way less lethal than bullets, and if it comes down between insulting an a!%%$+@ drunk or killing them...well, I'm guessing you wouldn't have been much for option two, either. Bruised egos seemed the better option." The gunsmith turned to go...then wheeled around again. "No offense, but...why are you here? This ain't a prestigious Chel magic school, or some kind of high-end fancy-dress soiree. You're in the jungle now...politics and academies and prestige don't matter, don't exist. You're on your own here - don't get to skate by on your academy degrees or your family name, and you don't get to hand every problem off to the next step in the chain of command. It's what you do that counts. So be ready to earn a place for yourself...or you'll be back on the Kaava Cutter before you know it."
He looked at the others for confirmation. Alleria nodded along with Nsizi's words. "The sheriff was asking something of us - she seemed pretty excited to have some new bodies around, and I'm not going to say no to the chance to earn some more coin. But if her work's not gonna keep us away from here, or once we're back from it, I'll be needing a place for a little bit. Hoping it's not a long-term deal, but homes and workshops don't build themselves, and I didn't have anyone coming ahead to ease my way. A meal sounds great, for certain, and some of that plum wine doesn't sound half-bad either. I've got a bad taste I need to wash out of my mouth," she finished with a wink at Nsizi. She'd grown up on board ships and still emptied her gut more than once - if this Mwangi man had had even half the trouble she had, he could use it, too.
As the conversation turned to grief as a justification for nastiness, Alleria's light smile began to fall into a carefully neutral mask. "We've all got dead people," she added to Akosua's remark, browbeating her features into submission, "or we will someday. May feel like the world's ending, but it doesn't - he's got to learn that sooner than anything. She didn't have a choice of whether her life ended; he does."
Listening to the stories from Akosua and Minercuria (who she'd already met) and the half-orc woman, Mwangi man, and Chelish man (who she hadn't), Alleria nodded before chiming in herself. "Afraid my reasons aren't quite so altruistic as saving sick kids or rooting out corrupted faiths. I heard stories of gold in them there hills - but it's the already-minted kind I had in mind," Alleria replied to the sheriff's query. "I figured a colony on the fringes of the Mwangi Jungle was in need of one thing - defence, and I happen to be an expert in firearms. So I came to set up shop, and lend a hand as may be needed to help get this place off the ground. Good for business, right?"
"Job? What kind of job?" Alleria replied. But the overworked sheriff was already retreating, and this Stone Hall sounded like as good a place as any to get settled in. She fell into step with the others, trudging toward the mainland and feeling the weight of her heavy pack. To try and distract herself, she turned to the Mwangi man and the half-orc woman beside her, letting their conversation die down a bit before she jumped in. "What do you make of this job the sheriff says she's got for us? I know I've got plans in mind, but having a way to get started pulling ourselves up doesn't seem so bad, eh? And if it takes us out into the jungle, maybe you'll happen across that cure you were looking for...it was Nsizi, right? And Zeljka?"
"All yours, with my compliments," Alleria responds to Akosua's question with a wink, resettling her gun in its holster. "Name's Alleria Hawkins - and yours?" But at that moment, her question is interrupted by the woman she'd been explaining her gun to on board the ship - who apparently disapproved, for some reason. "You make a good point...but she's got the right of it," Alleria adds, nodding toward Akosua. "Wasn't me that started things off rude, with him going after Lord Lard like that; I wasn't going to let them pummel him for the crime of being first off the boat, no matter how much padding he's got. And besides - was I wrong? If we're lucky, they'll remember every word...they earned it, and maybe remembering'll keep them from earning it again, better than being under the long arm of the law apparently has. "I'm not too worried about whether or not they're buying...you don't exactly see a whole slew of other gunsmiths around here, do you?" She smirks good-naturedly at Minercuria. "I came here because I knew I'd be the only game in town when it came to black powder. And my work speaks for itself - they'll be by, you'll see, regardless of unfavorable-but-true comparisons."
"No one's a real local here, it seems to me, except the monkeys - wait, is that what you guys are? Check it out, everyone: talking monkeys!" Keeping her voice nonchalant, Alleria pulled her pistol from its holster at her hip, setting her finger carefully on the trigger; she didn't want to shoot the first people she met in her new home...but if they forced the issue, she didn't have much choice, and that broken bottle looked an awful lot like forcing the issue. And she'd seen enough of the other passengers on the ship to know they were worth twice as much as these jerks; it wasn't a difficult choice to decide who to keep around. Although, maybe Mr. Papaya King...
Rough weather didn't frighten Alleria - she'd encountered more than her fair share of high seas aboard ships, and she had a fair idea of how to combat the stomach-churning turbulence. Carefully, she climbed down the ladder to the hammocks...but only long enough to grab her filled waterskin and a handful of hard biscuits from her pack, as well as a couple of pungent roots she'd picked up in a stall just off the docks in Port Freedom. Eat something. Really. Something bland, and some water. It sounds crazy, but having something in your gut means at least you aren't going to be nauseous from an empty stomach as well as from the rough water. And get to a window if you can - look at the horizon.
Taking her stash with her, she made her way across the cargo deck, finding a space between two stacks of crates that let her stand next to a tiny porthole window near the middle of the ship. Everywhere would be rocking like mad, but the center of the ship was what the entire ship would rotate around - it was better than the ends, which would jostle up and down with every tiny bump. Slicing off a piece of ginger, she began to suck on it, hoping the spicy root would help to calm the acid in her stomach.
[dice=Fortitude save with "sealegs", preparations]1d20+4+4+2[/dice] But it didn't do much good. Despite all her preparations, Alleria was left retching, trying her hardest to keep the mess from seeping into the burlap sack behind her; whatever was inside wasn't likely to benefit from it. The boat was rocking so hard that she could barely keep her feet long enough to keep her eyes on the distant horizon, and the ginger tasted foul combined with the slurry of acid and biscuit launching itself forth. Apparently I've been away from ships too long, she muttered to herself sullenly, her last word muffled by a hand clapped over her mouth.
"Yeah - I can see where you're coming from. Only, black powder tends to be a little more...visceral about it." Alleria smiled, clearly not displeased with the raw nature of black powder weaponry. "I do have a tiny bit of magical skill - I mean, I haven't studied or anything. I'm just able to fix things every so often, if I think about it hard enough. Some kind of...what's it called? Innate magic ability? "Mostly, though, black powder's all the magic I need. And like you say, it's changeable depending on how you work with it. Different metals will target creatures that are hurt more by them; you can pack a cartridge with varying amounts to make a big flash, or mix in resin to create something like a tanglefoot bag if you've got the right style of gun. And speaking of the right style of gun - my pistol here's good for using up close and reloads quick, a musket will let you shoot farther away, a blunderbuss'll shoot a bunch of pellets in a wide area..." The more Alleria talks, the less she sounds like a saleswoman and the more she sounds like a mix between a child excited over a toy and a scholar poring over a favorite topic of study. Clearly, guns aren't just a job for Alleria.
"Good heavens! Is that a fire-armament? I've never seen one up close before. How does it work?" "Yes indeed - you've a sharp eye and a keen mind. Alleria gives her new audience an encouraging smile, then turns the gun over and grabs it by the handle to demonstrate the grip. It's simple, really - the gun works by helping to shape and control a small explosion inside. You load the barrel with a small piece of metal and a bit of black powder, an alchemical mixture. It can sit loaded that way as long as you need it to. "Then, when you need to shoot, you just pull this lever - She gingerly demonstrates with her index finger, careful to not depress the trigger. - and a steel wheel rubs against a flint inside, creating a spark. That spark lights the powder, which burns extremely quickly and lets off gas and heat. You start to get pressure building up behind the bullet, and it's only got one way to go - straight out, carrying the bullet with it. Now, don't be fooled - it's making the black powder that's the tricky bit. Devilishly tricky, and disastrous if you get it wrong, or at least it was for my eyebrows." She twirls the gun around her finger and puts it back into its holster at her hip with a wink. "Fortunately, I've got a bit of practice up my sleeve - enough to make one of these fine weapons for all takers, if your gold's good." Her eyes stray to Gallio again, hoping the demonstration's swayed him.
"I've brought all I need. It is a loan from my father. Pretty soon, I'll have hundreds of papaya trees, about my size for easy harvesting. I could be the Papaya King." "Everything you needed...are you certain?" Alleria interrupted, emerging from below decks. A blank check from his rich daddy and he still wouldn't buy anything... "Because I remember seeing you at my father's shop in Eleder yesterday - you've planned well, it's true, but there's one thing you're missing." Reaching for her hip, she brought forth a short metal tube with a handle covered in shell inlays, holding it on its side in her palm. "What you're missing is the latest in weaponry - black powder guns, the secret to Alkenstar's success, even against the blight of the Mana Wastes! No need to rely on unpredictable magic or go mad trying to find the biggest and strongest for your protection...with this, anyone can simply point at what they want gone and shoot! Here, take a look. Perception DC10:
As she held it forward, it became clear to see the weapon in her hand was old - the pearlescent inlays were chipped, and there were a couple of dents in the metal. "And especially going up against some of the Mwangi Jungle's beasties...well, let's just say I'm glad to have this baby by my side," she added, patting the gun in her hand. "The bullets in these shoot ten times faster than any arrow or slingstone - so fast, they'll pierce straight through a beast's hide like it's not there, even plate metal. I remember your concerns about the expense - but these are made to last, an investment for a lifetime. And since I'm relocating to Pridon's Hearth as well, time to make them won't be an issue anymore, either. So, Mr. Menius, can I count on your investment?"
It was hot - but the sea breeze cut through the thick, humid air, tugging at the braided hair of a woman standing on the dock. And she, for her part, didn't seem to mind the sharp, briny scent of Desperation Bay; eyes closed, she inhaled almost meditatively, taking in the sounds and the smells and the feel of the air dancing across her medium brown skin. I've missed this. That old shop was too far from the harbor's edge. Three powder horns and a bandolier with its many tiny pockets stuffed full hung over her chest; the backpack sitting next to her leg was untidily packed, the handle of a mystery tool fighting its way from beneath the bag's flap. But there was nothing else - no retinue of slaves, no herds or chests. Just the woman, her single bag...and a lifetime of worry, doubt, memories. But she was used to carrying those. ---------- "This 'Pridon's Hearth' - might be a good place to get yourself a start on your own." Marcus and Alleria didn't talk much when they were working. They could go hours without saying a word, one bent over a small anvil while the other crushed powders in a mortar and pestle. Charcoal, sulfur, saltpeter...weighed carefully, ground meticulously, mixed precisely. It was probably the only thing the young gunsmith was precise about - certainly the rest of her workstation told the story, with tools and stray lead shavings strewn everywhere. But a visitor had shown up to their tiny shop the day before - a wealthy man, looking to outfit his retinue for life in a new colony south of Sargava. He certainly spoke lavishly about it...soil blessed by Gozreh's hand, he claimed, a forest bursting with riches just waiting to be tamed and gold and jewels in every shovelful of dirt. And the colony itself he claimed to be the new pride of Sargava, a wonder to behold - "or it will be when I'm done with it," he'd finished with a wink. "Setting off on the morrow - for wealth and glory!" Alleria wasn't quite so sure. She'd sailed all up and down the Garundi western coast, once - wherever the fruit and fish were teeming, the stirges and flies tended to flock to as well, and the only place she'd ever seen gold underfoot was in a ship's hold. "And if it's so rich as he was saying, how's it we hadn't heard of such fabulous wealth before, Father?" The lie of the name came easily to her lips now. "Maybe to keep those Shackles lords' hands off it." More words spoken with a casual air that belied the gunsmiths' hearts. Their words didn't even catch anymore at the mention of the pirates sailing the treacherous Shackles to the north. "No pirate's going to bother with this place. I bet these gold and jewels are nothing more than shiny rocks - no farmer's gonna know the difference." But his descriptions had wormed their way into her imagination, somehow...and she hadn't believed herself to have much imagination left. "Though...the city there. He said there wasn't much in the way of shops yet, yeah? If I did go...and I'm not saying I will..." "Be getting yourself in at the start, you would," he responded simply. "Not many folks there, and those as are there, their eyes are on the woods. And lots of hunters, I'd bet, looking for any advantage they can get against the dinosaurs...and there ain't nothing takes out a tyrannosaur quite like hot lead." The conversation had petered out quickly after that, old man and young woman returning to their work. But that night, Alleria had dug out an old, worn backpack, begun stuffing blankets and tools inside. She'd puttered around the tiny apartment above their shop for hours, grabbing bits and bobs and stuffing them in, Marcus occasionally handing her small knick-knacks with nary a word. Finally, her entire world was condensed into that beaten-up backpack, and she slept in her bed for the last time. ---------- Next morning, there was no tearful farewell, no reminiscing about happy memories in the cramped rooms above the shop. That apartment hadn't been home, any more than the tavern room in Port Peril or the secret back chamber in the House of Stolen Kisses. Alleria's home was on the bottom of the Arcadian Ocean; nothing was bringing that back. But maybe...just maybe this "Pridon's Hearth" could replace it. And at least the farther she got from the Shackles, the less the chances a wandering eye would dig beneath the surface and see who she'd been... "Just remember, your old dad's rooting for you. Take care of yourself," Marcus huffed, clapping the young woman on the back and leaning close. "Zarah." At the name, Alleria's heart began to race. But no one was looking at the father saying goodbye to his daughter outside their family shop; no one saw past what they expected to see. Marcus was not her father, but he'd taken her in when her mother could no longer shoulder the bother. He'd found her work in that cruddy old inn until he could arrange passage to Eleder, put all he had left of the sea's wealth into that passage and the first month's rent on the worn building no one respectable wanted. He'd made it into the shop where he practiced the only other craft he had besides the sea, and he'd poured hours into giving Alleria the same. "Take care...Father." ---------- Her father would be watching, she knew - his spirit would fill the Kaava Cutter's sails as it bore her to her new beginning, remind his daughter's legs of their old steadiness on the waves. Though her home and inheritance lay moldering beneath the Arcadian Ocean's currents, her father had become part of the rolling tides, the day his rise had led to his fall. And now, as she cut the last remaining tie to her father's world, it was time to follow in his steps and create her own fortune - whatever it may be. Though she could no longer carry his name for fear of the retribution it might bring...she could carry his determination. She strode along the dock, feeling the heartbeat of the ocean lapping against the dock. "Passage for one, Alleria Hawkins," she told the captain, counting out the coin she'd saved and checking her pistol's place at her hip. Her gait on the swaying deck was strong and sure; as she walked along the deck, she ran a hand along the railing, almost lovingly. And as the ship went underway, the breeze picked up, and her father's hand brushed at her cheek. I've missed this.
Looks like I've got to nail down the details for my wizard. Ah, spell selection and shopping, do you ever get any less tedious?
Any old pirate it is, then! :)
I've finally found time to work on Alleria! :D Question: You said it'd be helpful for you to have a pirate looking to chase me down. Any name in particular you need tied in? Otherwise, I'll just make up the names of a couple of Free Captains, probably locked in a feud over the Free Captains' Regatta my dad won and his competitor was more than a little salty over. Sound good?
I think I will still use the gunmaster vigilante - I prefer it for more skill points and stat freedom. All the dual identity will boil down to for me is that she gets a +20 to Disguise checks to conceal who she was unless she uses Quick Clear, Gunmaster Initiative, and/or Deadeye (as she gets them). Sound fair? (Technically you don't have to use dual identity at all - it just gives some Disguise bonuses and protection from divinations if you do.) I should have crunch and more extensive fluff up soon (since we aren't getting started until Friday at the earliest I may take a bit to make sure it's solid).
The vigilante has two identities: the social, which is what they tend to go as day-to-day (Bruce Wayne), and the vigilante identity, which is generally their crazy, fighting version (Batman). In a lot of cases the social identity is what the vigilante is trying harder to conceal or keep on the down-low while the vigilante identity is what's more famous/infamous, and the social identity is usually what came first while the vigilante identity is fabricated. In Alleria's case, it's actually kind of the opposite in both cases. Alleria Hawkins, the name she assumed upon leaving her father's ship, is her social identity (Bruce Wayne) - a straight-and-narrow gunsmith moving to Sargava to start a small business, and the one who'll be widely known in the colony. She knows how to use a gun, because she makes them, but you wouldn't expect her to have any extensive skill or know many tricks with them, because the mild-mannered shopkeeper has no need for that sort of thing. But that's the sort of person who's going to find a place in polite society, and the sort of person that no one's looking for. Her vigilante identity (Batman) is who she was known as on her father's ship the Jewel of Abendego - Endira Carresh, styled the Pearl of Port Peril by her father's crew. (All names works-in-progress.) Sailing the Shackles, the Pearl of Port Peril was free to be who she liked, taking what she could and giving nothing back. There, skill with a gun was entertainment and protection all in one, and any trick she could get her hands on could very well save her life. This is all well and good for pillaging and plundering, but less so for keeping a low profile, and now that her father is dead at his rival's hand, it's the Pearl of Port Peril said rival is looking for and the one that needed to disappear. Changing vigilante identities is as much about attitude as it is about changing surface details. As you can tell, there's a big difference between (probably N or NG) Alleria and (probably CG or CN) Endira, and those differences are what let her hide as well as she has for years and what buys her a place in polite society. She's been hiding as Alleria for so long that that's who she thinks of herself as now, but those old skills with a gun Endira learned are still there beneath the surface. Using those skills risks exposing her sordid history, but if the need arises she'll do what she has to do and hopefully talk her way out of it later. And if a time ever arises where she really needs to cut loose and bring on the hurt...well, there's no one better for that than the Pearl of Port Peril, and she can recall that persona to give her the mental boost she needs. It's kind of like wearing your best clothes for a big presentation - not only does it give whoever you're presenting to an impressive impression, but it gives you a boost of confidence and shifts you to a more powerful, professional mindset. That making any sense at all?
Gunmaster vigilante gets the gunslinger's battered gun and Gunsmithing in exchange for a vigilante specialization, and they get the option to take some of the main gunslinger deeds as x/day talents. So I'd keep a lot of what makes a gunslinger what they are, especially in the level range we're playing at. The tradeoff gets me more skill points, some social abilities, and overall greater versatility in exchange for losing a little of the gunslinger's hyper-focus, and I like versatility. I also don't like being forced into dumping Charisma, which the gunslinger practically mandates. And if you allow the Double Time social talent to work with Gunsmithing, it lets me get my ammo and possible backup guns made in less time. As you said, it's not quite as good a gunslinger as a gunslinger, but it'll make for a more rounded character, which I know you're a fan of. Edit: Added link to archetype.
Ooh, I could actually do you one better - remember that gunsmithing shop you were mentioning? Gunmaster vigilante, social identity humble gun manufacturer, vigilante identity exiled sharpshooting pirate princess. Alleria (former/vigilante name TBD) grew up aboard the ship of her father, a notorious pirate lord of the Shackles. She ended up almost a mascot to her father's crewmembers; when he was killed and his ship commandeered by a rival, she was smuggled off to disappear in Port Peril at the age of fourteen, taken in by a local gunsmith. It's been so long since she's been on a ship that she's forgotten a lot of her old tricks, and having to blend in all her adulthood has left her more than accustomed to it. She's on the Kaava Cutter to establish a small gunsmithy in Pridon's Hearth, trying to get in on the ground floor of the colony and its businesses. It makes sense that she knows how to make and shoot a gun, since gunsmithing's what she does, but the more time she spends at sea and the more she practices with her pistol, the more she remembers her old tricks. But using those tricks could threaten to reveal her for who she was before, and there's still a captain out there eager to capture or eliminate the last shred of his rival's legacy... That do it for you? ;) She'll probably spend very little time actually in her vigilante identity - which means that any time she shows unusal aptitude with a gun (uses the quick clear or deadeye talents she'll likely be picking up), she risks exposing herself, since using vigilante talents in social identity forces a check without the Disguise benefit from Seamless Guise. So there's a good chance she'll be caught at some point, and if that's the case, it could give a very good reason for said rival to come looking. One question: could the Double Time talent work with Gunsmithing? It's not technically a use of the Craft or Profession skill, but it's also definitely mundane crafting...
This'll be my gunslinger's alias, which will get updated as I come up with things. (This alias has ended up being an awful lot of things in the past - a human improvised weapon slayer/revolutionary/possible carrier of a divine spark, a lore oracle who talks to spirits and works as a carnival act, a halfling eldritch guardian fighter with a pet hedgehog smarter than her...) I've got the skeleton of a story figured out (I used the Paizo background generator and it actually ended up fitting and fleshing out story bits I'd already had in my head), but I wanted to check - is it too presumptuous? Story bits: I'd always planned for Alleria to be from Alkenstar, since that's where guns are by far the most prevalent. Using Paizo's background generator, I established that she was born into nobility as the child of a duke or duchess. That fit in well with what I'd been toying with before - a daughter of Alkenstar's Grand Duchess, Trietta Ricia, running away from her family for some reason under an assumed name. There's not much out there about the Grand Duchess, so I couldn't find any canonical reason to rule out the idea. She's shaping up to be the Grand Duchess's older daughter, born to privilege and the heir to the Duchy of Alkenstar. As such, she was trained from very early on with all sorts of guns, as well as receiving the best instruction in their construction and the theory behind them from one of the Gunworks' most prestigious scientists. Being noble, she was also engaged to a nobleman, a quite suitable future Duke Consort, but her heart wasn't in it - she'd secretly fallen for a childhood friend, a daughter of one of the palace's stablemasters. When she refused to marry, her fiancé confronted her and grew violent, and in self-defence she pulled her pistol and shot him, nearly killing him (especially since magical healing in the Mana Wastes is at best unreliable). He accused her of trying to kill him to get him out of the way, and with her lacking the charm of most nobles, he was the one everyone believed (for some reason, "if I'd meant to kill you I would have" didn't work so well as a defence). So, in order for the family to save face, she was disinherited and her younger sister was installed in her place; with no real reason to stay in Alkenstar, she took off for anywhere but there with her girlfriend under a false name, Alleria Hawkins. Is it a bit too much to claim descent from one of Garund's most powerful people? It does create a very good reason for her to want to start over, and it helps to explain how she got all her experience in gunsmithing and gun use. (It almost makes me want to play a gunmaster vigilante instead, except that the two identities don't pair right.) One possible other issue I see is that it's an awfully long way from Alkenstar to Eleder, and getting that far still at level 1 is hard to imagine. If the story doesn't seem like it fits I can come up with something different, but I kind of like where it's gone (and it's serendipitous that the background rolls matched what had already been in my head). If it's all right, I'll get a more complete version worked up.
I'm really sorry, guys - I'm having a hard time getting this game to really click, and with the amount of activity I've had picking up on me lately, I'm not really sure it's going to happen. So I think I'm going to have to bow out; I'm really sorry to do it to you guys, but I don't have the mental capacity to get into the story. I hope everything works out!
Bladud! They can keep chucking those elementals forever! Help Senna - I'll start softening the big guys up some! She starts deftly loading bullets into her sling again, peppering the giants with shots.
"Got it!" With the elementals up so close, her sling bullets weren't likely to do much good - but that's why she had her backup plan. Shifting her grip slightly, she begins to use her sling staff in melee, thwacking at the elementals and trying to break them apart.
Alleria unleashes a fusillade of sling bullets following Senna's fireball, aiming at each of the wolves in turn. The rush of energy from Bladud's spell gives her an extra burst of speed, allowing her to get another shot off.
Sounds like a plan to me. Ally hands the wand of fireball back to Senna - though not without a certain look of longing in her eye. Still, she knew it was best - and she had her sling-staff. I can add to Senna's bombardment with my bullets, too; it'll help to soften things up.
Back at camp, Alleria waits for Bladud and Haldern to return. A book sits in her lap, with hastily-written notes scrawled inside; perched atop the book is a hedgehog, intently studying a series of Draconic runes scribbled in the margins. What do you mean, I've transcribed them wrong? she suddenly blurts out seemingly unprompted. Look, it's just fine - and thus did the roguish Kolteris purport to take hold of wise Malfiniesk's - oh. That was supposed to be hoard. She erases one of the runes and more carefully pencils it back in, while the hedgehog gives her what can only be described as a reproachful look. Oh, don't look at me like that. You know the two terms are closely related in the Draconic tongue.
Not I. I keep meaning to take up a couple more languages, but time never seems to allow for it. Maybe someday.
Bouncing along on the back of her new pony (quickly dubbed Pickle, for reasons clear only to her), Ally looks slightly ill at ease. Not much of a rider, but I didn't want to slow everyone down... As Pickle shies slightly at a stone Bladud's horse kicked across the path, Alleria clamps down on the stout pony's shaggy mane. This is going to take some getting used to. Though she's clearly just as terrified to climb onto Jensal's broad back, her excitement wins out once they begin to soar over the giant's camp. Charming housekeepers, aren't they? she calls out to Haldern over the rush of wind and wings. Makes my camp look downright neat and tidy, and I'm pretty sure I've got stains on my tent I can't even remember the source of. Rejoining the others on the ground, Ally joins Bladud in surveying the camp from pony-back. Talking could give us some valuable information; it may be worth it. Seeing his face fall, she gives him a sly grin. If they don't talk, then we blow them up. What is it you guys are trying to find out from them, anyway?
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