About Gregory Paltaris. . . . . . .
Background: Everything was blackness. Silence.
He didn't know where he was, who he was. And he didn't care. It was all so peaceful here, wherever it was, and he was content to remain ignorant of what had preceded it. All that mattered was the calm in his mind, a calm he knew he had not felt in a long time, if ever. Here there were no worries, no obligations, no one telling him what to do. Just him and the darkness... And the warmth. Had it been there the whole time? No, the warmth was new, it hadn't been there before. It had slowly crept over him. Or maybe it had appeared in an instant, he couldn't tell. But did it really matter? He quite welcomed it, it was a comfort, it made him feel safe. It was steadily getting warmer. In what felt like minutes it had gotten to the point where he started to feel sweaty. His throat started to feel dry, his skin began to feel prickly in protest to the rising heat. What was going on? It was starting to hurt. And there was a sound now, faint at first but slowly rising. Its sounded like the roar of a rushing waterfall, or maybe... FIRE!!! With a tortured scream Gregory opened his eyes, panic rushing forth as he beheld his outstretched arm on the floor, flames licking up the leather of his jacket. His hand and forearm were already being hungrily consumed by the fire, bare flesh and muscle visible through the advancing conflagration. Still screaming he flailed about on the floor, rolling on top of his arm in an attempt to smother the flames. But the fire was relentless, refusing to die as it drew renewed life from his chemical stained clothes. Tendrils of fire flared out from under him as it reached for air, badly searing his face. Jumping to his feet he ripped the ruined jacket off, large patches of boiling, bubbling skin slouching off his arm as he did so. The pain nearly sent him crashing back to the floor and the silent darkness, but somehow consciousness did not leave him. Looking about him in a daze, he beheld the room around him. Burning scraps of paper filled the air, trailing towards the floor from the book shelves that covered the walls, most of the books already burned away to nothing. The only piece of furniture that had not yet been consumed to the point where it was no longer recognizable was a large table, upon which rested the shattered remains of an alchemical lab. Compounds and liquids rolled and dripped into the fires on the floor painting the crimson inferno with streaks of blue, purple and green. In an instant Gregory remembered who he was, his mind reeling as his life and memories came rushing out from the recesses of his mind. He remembered his childhood, how his grandfather, a wealthy lumber baron, had raised him. His grandfather had told him about his mother, the light of his life, who had unfairly been taken from him by Gregorys entry into the world. Her husband, stricken with grief and shame, would have nothing to do with the cursed child. His grandfathers shame and anger had been great, but all the same, he reluctantly took Gregory in. He never missed a chance to remind Gregory of what he was, a pit-spawned bastard, who with his mother gone, would be the only one to carry on the family name and forever stain it. Gregory had tried his best to please his grandfather, to somehow win his affection. He excelled in school and studied hard. He had taken to his sword training with vigour and skill. But to his grandfather none of it had mattered. No matter what he did he was still the spawn of the abyss. In desperation he turned his studies to alchemy, seeking some way, some miracle of science, that might rid him of his cursed heritage. The years passed without a breakthrough, Gregory becoming increasingly secluded, living, eating and sleeping in his lab. Then finally his grandfather passed away. But even with his grandfather gone, Gregory did not relent in his research. His quest for a cure to the demonic blood in his veins was all he had left. Following the funeral, Gregory started using up increasingly large amounts of his grandfathers wealth on his obsession. It was only a year before the first of his grandfathers lumber sites closed down. Many more soon followed. Gregory didn't care. Then it had happened. He had been sitting in his lab when the sound of shattering glass and the thumping of heavy footsteps could be heard out in the hallway. Before he had been able to do more than rise from his chair, four masked men had barged through the door. They had wielded clubs and daggers, shouting profanity and racial slurs as they entered. The leader had pointed at Gregory and accused him of ruining their lives, told him how they and their families would soon be out on the streets, because he had cost them their livelihood. Then they had charged at him. What followed was a blur. Gregory couldn't quite recall what had happened, except that he had managed to fend them off for but a few moments before resorting to his chemicals for defence. The reckless concoction he hastily mixed had exploded with spectacular effect. And now, here he was. The fire was spreading quickly now, the ceiling and walls starting to creak as if they might soon come crashing down. Adrenalin masking the pain, Gregory sprang into action. The mansion was beyond saving, of that he was sure. He was all but bankrupt and still owed payment for the last two shipments of research materials. He had nothing left to keep him here. Rushing through the inferno, he quickly gathered what he could and fled into the cold night. He didn't know where he would go, but he could not stay here. Those four ruffians would not be the only ones who would come looking for him if he did. Personality: Gregory is used to being treated poorly by those around him, but for the most part does not hold it against them. As much as them, he despises the reality of his heritage. As a result, he goes out of his way to keep his companions happy, for fear that his personality will tip the scales and compel them to leave him behind.
Gregory enjoys knowledge of any kind, finding reading to be both enjoyable and relaxing. Even though his search for a cure has waned since the fire, he still holds hope that he will one day stumble upon the answer to his condition. His years on the road, following the disaster at his grandfathers estate, has taught him the value of a good lie. When his efforts failed to disguise his demonic features, he would often rely on subterfuge to avoid getting run out of town. Obscure chronic diseases, skin conditions and a bad diet, all sorts of excuses he cooked up for his deathly pale skin and fine scales. Only his tail proved impossible to explain to any degree of credibility. For this reason he does his best to keep it hidden, wearing a long leather coat and keeping it coiled. Amongst strangers, the situation would need to be dire indeed before he used his tail for anything. During his travels, Gregory has often had to resort to accepting job offers of a less than savoury nature. Many a time, such employment involved fighting, during which he put his alchemical knowledge to good use. In time, he started to enjoy lobbing bombs at his enemies, feeding a repressed desire to strike back at the world. At times he will seem deranged during a battle, laughing maniacally. Appearance: A pale man stands before you.(Just ignore the sword) Race/Class: Male Tiefling Alchemist 1 (Mindchemist) Size/Type: Medium Outsider (Native) Alignment: Neutral-Good Initiative: +3 Senses: Darkvision, Perception +5, Sense Motive +1 Languages: Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Dwarven, Elven, Orc
Str: 13, Dex: 16, Con: 14, Int: 18, Wis: 12, Cha: 8 BAB: +0, CMB: +1, CMD: 14
AC: 17, Touch: 13, Flat-footed: 14 (+3 Dex, +3 Armor, +1 Natural) HP: 10 (1d8(8), +2 Con, +0 Favoured Class(Alchemist)) Fort(2): +4, Refl(2): +5, Will(0): +1
Speed: 30 ft. Bomb: +4 (1d6 + 4 (20x2)) Bomb Splash Damage: 5 (Reflex for half DC 14)) Crossbow, Light: +3 (1d8 + 0 (19-20x2)) Dagger: +1 (1d4 + 1 (19-20x2))
Brew Potion ( Link ): (You can create magic potions.) Point Blank Shot ( Link ): (You are especially accurate when making ranged attacks against close targets.) Throw Anything ( Link ): (You are used to throwing things you have on hand.)
Convincing Liar (Bluff) ( Link ): (You've spent your life perfecting the art of half-truths in order to accomplish what you need to.) Scholar of the Great Beyond (Planes) ( Link ): ( You take to philosophical discussions of the Great Beyond and of historical events with ease.) Favoured Class Bonus (1) (+0.5 damage on Bombs)
(4 ranks, 4 Int, 0 Favoured Class (Alchemist)) Bluff(1): +4 (+8 when telling a lie.) Craft(Alchemy)(1): +8 (+9 when creating an alchemical substance.) Disable Device(1): +7 Knowledge(Arcana)(1): +8 Knowledge(History)(0): +5 Knowledge(Local)(0): +4 Knowledge(Nature)(1): +8 Knowledge(Planes)(1): +9 Knowledge(Religion)(0): +4 Perception(1): +5 Spellcraft(1): +8
Beguiling Liar (+4 Racial bonus on Bluff checks to tell a lie. Replaces Skilled.) Darkvision (See in the dark up to 60 ft.) Light From the Darkness (Gain Aasimar alternate trait Incorruptible. Cast Corruption Resistance 1/day. Duration is hours per level, not minutes. Replaces Spell-like Ability.) Prehensile Tail (Retrieve stored items as a Swift action. Replaces Fiendish Sorcery.) Scaled Skin (+1 Natural armor. Cold Resistance 5. Replaces Feindidh Resistances.)
Alchemy ( Link ): (Gain various benefits from the Alchemy skill) Bomb (1d6) ( 5 / day) ( Link ): (Infuse various volatile chemicals and hurl at your enemies) Cognatogen ( Link ): (Mind enhancing chemicals.)
COMBAT / MAGIC EQUIPMENT (25 Lb):
OTHER EQUIPMENT (13.5 Lb):
38.5 Lb Total (Light load = 43 (33 under the effect of Cognatogen)) Wealth: 34 Gold, 2 Silver, 0 Copper Discoveries (2) ( Link ): (Directed Bomb, Smoke Bomb) Perfect Recall ( Link ): (Add double Intelligence Bonus on Knowledge Checks and Checks to remember something.) Poison Resistance ( Link ): (+2 bonus on Saves vs Poison) Swift Alchemy ( Link ): (Create alchemical items in half the time. Apply Poison to a weapon as a Move Action.)
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