Eugeni Csillagos's page

Str 10, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 13
Base Atk +2; CMB +2; CMD 16

Feats Gunsmithing[UC], Rapid Reload, Weapon Focus (pistol)
Traits love lost (widowed), never stop shooting, roof racer (korvosa)
Skills Acrobatics +8, Craft (alchemy) +6, Craft (painting) +5, Craft (sculpture) +5, Intimidate +8, Knowledge (local) +5, Perception +7, Perform (dance) +2, Sleight of Hand +8
Languages Common, Gnome, Varisian
SQ gunsmith[/spoiler
[spoiler=Special Abilities]
Grit (Ex) Gain a pool of points that are spent to fuel deeds, regained on firearm crit/killing blow.
Gunsmithing You can use a gunsmithing kit to craft/repair firearms and ammo.
Never Stop Shooting Act as disabled when dying, but can only use a gun. Death at neg Wis or Con score.
Rapid Reload (Pistol) You can reload fast with one type of Crossbow or Firearm.
Roof Racer (Korvosa) Treat a long jump as if it was 5 ft shorter.

Daylight was quickly fading over the crowded streets of Old Korvosa. The wheel of a handcart splashed through a puddle of wastewater accumulated in the cobblestones of the street. After it passed, a man looked up to the now cleared path, his longcoat flailing in the rush of air from the brewing storm. He pulled the collar of his coat up higher around the back his fire-maned head to ease the chill of the impending night. Steeling himself, he began forward towards the alley that was home to the old pawner and his dilapidated shop.

The bell rang as the door it hung above creaked open. Hodran looked up to see who might be looking for a quick deal at this hour. Likely one of the many spice addicts that filled the Old District. He hurriedly shuffled himself through the doorway from the backroom to peer out from behind the counter. As he looked up, he saw a familiar face. “You should be running for your life, young man,” said the old gnome. “You’re lucky to still be alive after what those thugs did to you. Count your blessings and be off.”

“Oh, I’ll leave soon enough. I’m not dumb enough to stay around until they finish me off.”

“Gene, I reall-“

“I need some things first, Hod. And you owe me for that portrait of your lady friend that time. Believe me, it wasn’t so easy to get her likeness so fair and still be believable. Now, are you going to help me, or should I let word spread that Hodran Bidgel skimps on his debts?”

The diminutive shopkeeper grumbled under his breath and looked down at his feet. Taking a moment, his gaze came back up to lock with the younger man’s. “That one didn’t turn out so well for me after all, you know. Two weeks in she said I didn’t have enough stamina for her. You believe that, Gene? Me! Not enough stamina? Well, she was annoying anyway.” He sighed, “All right, all right. I’ll help you. But after this, we’re even. Don’t come back here, ever. I mean it, kid.”

“We’ll see. I’m not sure I can agree to that last part though.”

“What do you need?” said Hod, putting on his spectacles and grabbing a writing board and a quill.

“Some travelling supplies. I can’t stay in Korvasa. Not for a while, anyway.”

“Going back to your family? To recover maybe?”

Gene nodded, “If I can find the caravan, yes. But that may be difficult. I haven’t had a letter from them in a while.” He started looking around the shop, in the cases and stacks of personal items no one ever came back to reclaim. “You have any weapons?”

“For what? I hope you’re not concocting any idiot plans for revenge.”

Gene turned his face away from Hod, lest his eyes betray him. “Of course not, Hod. But I need to be able to protect myself now that I’m on the run. And I’m no good with blades.”

“Not that I know of. But I can help with the travelling supplies easy enough. Let me go look in the back for a pack,” said the gnome while heading back through the door.

Eugeni started looking around. He was never good at sitting and waiting. The young Varisian lifted a stack of books and inspected their titles. All titles he had skimmed through while spending time here at Hod’s one day. There seemed to be countless chests and boxes out here in the main room of Hod’s pawnery. And one never knew what could be in them. He started looking through them, Hod didn’t know the contents of everything in here. And even if he did, Hod might lie to try and stop him from going after the men that ruined his life.

As he was going through a pile and finding nothing worthwhile, he randomly looked over at a dusty box on a high shelf. That one looked like it hadn’t been moved for years. He hurried over to it and pulled it down. Inside, there was something bulky wrapped in a scarf. The scarf itself was nicely made, Gene had an eye for that sort of thing after all. If nothing else, it would be cold on the road and his scarf had been lost in the fire.

Gene lifted the bundle. It had some heft to it. Being careful not to drop it, he started to unwrap the scarf. When he finished, he was looking at something he’d only heard of. The stories had called it a ‘gun’. They were extremely rare and supposedly of great power. The problem was, he didn’t know how to use it.

A sound came from the back room as Eugeni looked up to see Hod coming back into the shop proper. “What’s that in your hands, kid?”

“I found this in a box up on that shelf over there,” said Eugeni, pointing to the place he’d taken it down from.

“That’s very old, very expensive, and very broken. Put it away and let’s get you ready to leave,” Hod instructed as he started to put things into the pack he’d brought out front.

“Tell me about it, Hod. What is it and where’d you get it?”

Hod stopped a moment and looked at the young man with bruises and cuts decorating his face. “All right, I suppose it can’t hurt. That is a ‘pistol’. I bought it from a sailor who said he traded for it with some shark people. Of course that’s utter nonsense. Most likely, he was diving for scallops or oysters and found it in a wrecked ship. I paid him just enough gold for a night full of food, drink, and company. Probably overpaid, too. Damn thing’s rusted over. One day I’ll get to scraping the barnicles off and cleaning that rust. Maybe I’ll make a few coins on it.” He took a breath and shook his head. “Now put it back and we’ll get back to getting you ready.”

Eugeni spent a few extra seconds looking at the pistol. Then he returned his eyes to his friend. “What about clothes? I can’t wear these. They’ll recognize me,” he said as he put the gun back in the box.

“Good point, stay here. I’m sure I have something in your size in the back. Give me a moment…” Hod’s voice trailed off as he went to the back again.

As soon as he was out of view, Eugeni stuffed the pistol into his pocket and started taking off the little jewelry that wasn’t taken from his unconscious body a few nights before. He left the two rings and earring on the counter and grabbed the bag. “Sorry, Hod. But I have to do this,” he muttered softly. He grabbed the pack with the little it had in it and darted out the door. I’ll get them, ‘Dana. I’ll make them pay for taking you from me.
Eugeni left the city that night for two years, returning to his people to recover from near death and to learn to use the pistol. And now he is returning for some Payback!