Ashlyn Fairchild's page

Light crossbow, 20 bolts, Arcane Focus (crystal), 2 daggers, Disguise Kit, Flute, Favor of an admirer, Entertainer costume, Fine clothes, Belt pouch, Book, Hourglass, 2 ink bottles, 2 ink pens, perfume (vial), dice set, playing card set
Explorer's kit (backpack, bedroll, mess kit, tinderbox, 10 torches, 10 days of trail rations, waterskin, and 50' hemp rope) used potion vial

You regain hit points when you drink this potion. The number of hit points depends on the potion's rarity, as shown in the Potions of Healing table. Whatever its potency, the potion's red liquid glimmers when agitated.

You regain hit points when you drink this potion. The number of hit points depends on the potion's rarity, as shown in the Potions of Healing table. Whatever its potency, the potion's red liquid glimmers when agitated.

This wand has 7 charges. While holding it, you can use an action to expend 1 or more of its charges to cast the magic missile spell from it. For 1 charge, you cast the 1st-level version of the spell. You can increase the spell slot level by one for each additional charge you expend. The wand regains 1d6 + 1 expended charges daily at dawn. If you expend the wand's last charge, roll a d20. On a 1, the wand crumbles into ashes and is destroyed.

While wearing this ring, you are immune to magic that allows other creatures to read your thoughts, determine whether you are lying, know your alignment, or know your creature type. Creatures can telepathically communicate with you only if you allow it. You can use an action to cause the ring to become invisible until you use another action to make it visible, until you remove the ring, or until you die. If you die while wearing the ring, your soul enters it, unless it already houses a soul. You can remain in the ring or depart for the afterlife. As long as your soul is in the ring, you can telepathically communicate with any creature wearing it. A wearer can't prevent this telepathic communication.

Entertainer
Traits: I get bitter if I'm not the center of attention.
Ideals: Fame: I am obsessed with fame, and will do almost anything to gain more.
Bonds: I want to be famous whatever it takes.
Flaws: I'll do anything to win fame and renown.

Born the only daughter of a small town human farmer and a lowborn elf, Ashlyn was a wild child, always dreaming of a bigger and better life. Most of her adolescence consisted of her father leading groups of friends into the city or forests searching for his runaway daughter. Unable to accept fate, the day she come of age, Ashlyn fled the hamlet she could never call home into the first big city she could find with little more than the clothes on her back and a gemstone necklace heirloom passed from her mother.

Ashlyn loved the big city, but she didn’t love the pain in her empty stomach. She sought hard to find a job, but outside of a few gigs dancing in seedy taverns, and more than enough offers from brothels she always refused, she finally had to leave. Finding a smaller human town, her exotic beauty was finally given a chance to shine. Elves seemed to be a rare commodity in this town, and her half elf features brought in as many customers as her dancing and playing did. Ashlyn wasn’t above flirting with her clientele to earn tips, but any customer who pushed too far was quickly rebuffed by the young sorceress’s budding powers.

Ashlyn one day hopes to open her own theater, a sultry show of music and dancing similar to her own performances. She wants to give young girls like herself the chances she fought so hard for. In that pursuit, she has joined adventuring companies that seem likely to earn coin or more importantly, fame. She wants to make her name known coast to coast so people everywhere will come to her long sought grand opening.

Feeling the cold air against her fair skin, Ashlyn adjusts her robes one last final time before proceeding in. Opening the door, the smell of spilt mead and smoked meat overwhelms her senses. Spotting her mark, she glides across the room drawing the eye of every patron she passes. Catching her objective distracted, talking to a bar maid, Ashlyn pushes the burly man’s legs open, nimbly slipping her body snugly into his lap. Her arm quickly wraps around his neck, her fingernail dancing a subtle waltz between tickling and scratching. His attention turns away from the maid to the new weight suddenly in his lap. His senses overwhelmed by a sweet fragrance as Ashlyn leans in purring. ”Were you able to find what I needed Sargent.” The man shivers at her machinations, eyes wandering downward. Her garb is the perfect dichotomy of revealing and enticing. Leaving just enough hidden to draw in the desire for more.

The Sargent clears his throat, blushing deeply, ”Y-yes, I needed, er…well. His password is ’False Chanterelle’ for tonight. You promise no harm will come to him right?”

Ashlyn leans in letting her lips lightly grace the Sargent’s beard, ”What kind of lady do you take me for Sargent?” She slips away letting her hand linger as she makes her way out of the tavern. Ashlyn starts down the street and quickly disappears into the first alley, joining the small group of gathered miscreants. Ashlyn smirks at the gathered men, ”’False Chanterelle’ will disable his alarm spell, you can have anything in there you can carry, as long as the painting makes it back to me.”

The leader nods, ”Ay, and drop it in the morning at The Sage and Shield on fox street. I remember love. You sure you ain’t want no cut?”

Ashlyn shakes her head, ”I’ll see you in the morning. It isn’t safe for a girl alone on the streets this late at night.” Ashlyn turns on her heels making her way home, as her gang makes their way over the fence of Lord Barrowmeres estate.

The next morning, Ashlyn awakes from a restful beauty sleep, proceeding downstairs in her nightdress to find a large portrait wrapped in an unopened paper shielding leaning against the wall of the common room. Ashlyn tears the covering off, seeing her own nude form and frowning deeply. Her rage boils into a tangible spell, her crystal necklace glowing in brilliant sapphire light as the panting begins to burn away. ”I warned you to paint nothing more than I showed you. Hopefully your empty coffers will serve as a sterner reminder.”