About LlanierDefense:
AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 10. . (+2 Dex) hp 6 (1d6) Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +4 Offense:
Spd 30 ft. Melee Unarmed Strike +1 (1d3+1/20/x2) Ranged Longbow +2 (1d8/20/x3) Special Attacks Evil Eye (DC 13) Witch Spells Known (CL 1, 1 melee touch, 2 ranged touch): 1 (2/day) Cure Light Wounds (DC 14), Command (DC 14) 0 (at will) Mending, Stabilize, Detect Magic Stats:
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 13 Feats Elven Weapon Proficiencies, Extra Hex Traits Indomitable Faith, Reactionary Init +4 Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +4 Skills Heal +5, Knowledge: Arcana +7, Knowledge: Local +4, Knowledge: Nature +7, Perception +4, Spellcraft +7
Hexes:
Evil Eye -2 (6 round(s)) (DC 13) (Su) Inflict penalties with a glance. Cackle Extend the duration of other hexes. Special:
+2 bonus on Reflex saves You gain the Alertness feat while your familiar is within arm's reach. Dream (Dreamspeaker) (1/day) (Sp) With Charisma 15+, cast Dream once per day. Dreamspeaker +1 [Divination] & sleep spell DCs. Elven Magic +2 racial bonus on caster checks to overcome spell resistance. +2 to spellcraft checks to determine the properties of a magic item. Empathic Link with Familiar (Su) You have an empathic link with your Arcane Familiar. Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail. Share Spells with Familiar The wizard may cast a spell with a target of "You" on his familiar (as a touch spell) instead of on himself. A wizard may cast spells on his familiar even if the spells do not normally affect creatures of the familiar's type (magical beast). Familiar: Tha'an:
ARCANE FAMILIAR Male Fox NN Tiny Magical Beast Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision, Scent; Perception +8 -------------------- DEFENSE -------------------- AC 15, touch 14, flat-footed 13. . (+2 Dex, +2 size, +1 natural) hp 3 (1d10+1) Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +3 -------------------- OFFENSE -------------------- Spd 40 ft. Melee Bite (Fox) +2 (1d3-1/20/x2) and . . Unarmed Strike +2 (1-1/20/x2) Space 2.5 ft.; Reach 0 ft. -------------------- STATISTICS -------------------- Str 8, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 6, Wis 12, Cha 6 Base Atk +1; CMB +1; CMD 10 (14 vs. Trip) Feats Skill Focus: Perception Skills Climb +2, Fly +6, Heal +2, Perception +8, Spellcraft -1, Stealth +10, Swim +2 Modifiers +4 to Survival when tracking by Scent, Acrobatics (Jump) +4 Languages SQ Improved Evasion (Ex) --------------------
Background: The Witch's Tale:
Llanier never had "parents". His elven progenitors, he had been told, died when their village was raided and burned to the ground. Whether or not this was the case, he had little interest in discovering. As an orphan of the streets, his daily struggles to avoid joining them consumed every waking moment. He fell in with a loose "family" of rag-pickers, beggars and pickpockets. Together, they were able to scratch out a living from the grimy streets. Although they largely got along, life was tough, and rarely kind. Every scrap of food meant a battle to be fought, whether between the orphans or the dogs in the street--often both at the same time. Llanier often slept in the rainy alleys, huddled under a threadbare "cloak", shooing away the rats that climbed over his prone, shivering body. No matter your circumstances, however, there is almost always someone worse off than yourself, and this was as true for Llanier as it was for anyone. Down the street, in a tiny room filled with clutter and discarded items gathered from the gutter, lived the old woman Strenghata. When she left her room, which was rare, the people of the city avoid eye contact with her. They made furtive religious signs and wards and crossed the street to be away from her. The adults whispered about sightings of the crone's dark ceremonies performed in the night, clad only in the moonlight. When a child died or a stranger disappeared, many hearts convicted the old woman, though no one dared to be the one to point the finger. Unlike most, however, Llanier had nothing to lose. He had no standing to be lost by associating with the woman. He had no family to be cursed. And so he watched her. He watched carefully as people cursed at her one day and then quietly slipped into her hovel weeks later. He watched the sick and lame visit her and leave healthy. He say the rich and powerful arrive with worry etched on their faces, only to leave hours later smiling and stripped of the rings, necklaces and jewels they carried only hours earlier. He watched her, and never once saw her turn a person away. The people needed her, even those who feared to admit it. He sensed the power she commanded, however nebulous and vague it might be. Her power was not the pompous flash and gaudy glare of the mage, not the self-righteous judgment of the priest, and not the aggressive assault and defensive attitude of the druid. Her magic was far greater, far older—it was the magic of life, of the world. She didn't force the world, or try to command or control it. She did not use magic to push the world in an unnatural way. Her magic, instead, was the world—Existence—using her. All of life, all of being, all of creation, worked through her to move others back to their place. She was but a willing conduit. The more he watched her, the more Llanier understood. It seemed those who most hated her ways were the ones most afraid of the help she could give them, and the time when they knew they would find themselves begging for such help. They all used many different faces--hatred, fear, denial, desperation, anger, bribery, curses, threats, vandalism—that all meant the same thing: respect. They knew the power she wielded, and they feared it. As the weeks passed, Llanier felt that she grew more and more accustomed to his presence, and her icy stare seemed to melt. Finally, after months of his watching from the alley, she beckoned to him through the dirty window. Fear stiffened his spine, his body began to move immediately, almost of its own accord. The door creaked quietly open as he arrived. “Well, if isn't my little vulpe,” she said. “Hiding in the shadows and running away at the first sign of danger.” Llanier couldn't speak, but only nodded and tried futilely to smile. “I see you are another who is not quite wanted. Well, never you mind. Before long, you'll find that it is not you and I that are out of place, but this city. One day these people will all be gone and…well, you'll know soon enough.” She stepped back and opened the door more to allow him in. This time he did not want to resist, but rather went willingly into her home. Inside was musty and dim. She lit a few tapers and a small wick that let off a solid stream of sharply scented smoke that twisted its way through the single room. Over the fire hung a small, blackened pot. She lit the fire easily and settled into a blanket-covered chair with a groan. “The tea will be ready soon.” Llanier sat at her feet before the fire. The remains of a loaf of bread on the table beside her chair caught his eye and, try as he might, Llanier was unable to take his eyes off it. He had not eaten since yesterday morning, and until now he had been able to block out the dull ache that seemed as constant as his shadow. Her tiny, pin-bright eyes flickered between his and the bread, and she smiled a wide, nearly-toothless grin. “Are you hungry, child?” Llanier nodded, glancing to the floor in shame. Without a word, she passed the remains of the bread to him. Within seconds, he had swallowed the bread, barely chewing in his rush to consume it before it disappeared. The old woman clucked her tongue and shook her head. “So like them to leave such a child to starve." “I am not like them!” Llanier surprised himself with the vehemence—and volume—of his declaration. “Of course not, child.” The crone smiled tenderly. “That is why you are in here, and they are out there.” An unexpected warmth spread through Llanier, a feeling with which he was unfamiliar. He cocked his head trying to identify the emotion that flooded through him. Happiness? Fullness? Satiety? Whatever it was, Llanier realized, he liked it. The old crone, Stregana, invited him to stay in her home, such as it was, though it often meant sleeping on the single clear spot of floor in front of the fireplace. At least it was warm and safe. Together, somehow, they always seemed to have enough to eat, even if on occasion the grand meals he remembered seemed to have been dreams. Still, for the first time in his 60 years of living, Llanier had enough to eat.
One morning, he woke to find a bag near the door. Inside were spell components, healing ingredients, a bedroll and blanket, some food, and a blank journal. He heard her move behind him. “Strega—what is this?” “It is your pack, child.” “Where are we going?” “We? No, no…” She clucked her tongue and shook her head softly. “I am going somewhere, and you are going somewhere. But we are not going anywhere.” Llanier moved to her and took her hand. “I do not understand.” “We were not meant to. But here is what you must know. You have a strong start on the Winding Way, but you cannot continue in this place. This…hole of a room is no place for you to learn, and this city will do little but wear you down. These people are small-minded and simple, and cannot comprehend the things you must understand. So you must leave here.” She stopped for a moment, winded. Llanier handed her a cup of water and she sipped it, then continued. “With you leaving, there is little reason now for me to remain here. I have done what was required of me, and now I am compelled to move along.” “Can't I just come with you? Surely that is leaving here!” “No, vulpe. You must follow your own path. We each have our own Way, our own path through this life. When one follows their own Way, it is like an orbit—their niche in the great order of things—and all of creation will assist them. But often, in order to find and follow that Way, the everyday, mundane inhibitions that shackle us must be shaken off. Only then can you find your Way, and continue your Work. “So you must seek your Way, and I must continue my Work. And the two are no longer the same. “But I still don't understand. Why must we part? Why can't we seek this together?” “Because you don't understand,” she replied. She smiled again, placing her silk-soft, wrinkled hands on his cheeks. “You must find your Way. I cannot show it to you, for I do not know it. But you are not to be alone…” Suddenly, with a strength and surety that seemed to belong to a body 50 years younger, Stregana stood and strode across the room. There, lurking in the corner, Llanier noticed a small grey dog—no, a fox—curled up amidst the books, bottle and twigs. It looked for all the world to be a stuffed creature that had always been there, dust-covered and moth-eaten, though he couldn't remember ever seeing it before. Llanier jumped when the fox raised its head and yawned, flashing needle-like white teeth in the dark. “This is a friend that will accompany you, Llanier. He will help you find your Way.” “You got me…a dog?” She laughed loudly and the bird suddenly flapped into the air before settling again on her arm. “No, he is not from me. Nor does he "belong" to you. It might be closer to say that I am giving you to him.” She smiled more broadly, moving towards Llanier. The fox's deep black eyes fixed Llanier and he felt a voice, a movement, an intrusion in his mind and felt his lips move involuntarily. “Tha'an.” Stregana cackled again and patted the beast on the back, knocking puffs of dust and cobwebs into the air. The creature gave a stretching bow, then sat down before Llanier, gazing up at him with dark eyes like immortal wells. “He will…keep your spells for you when you aren't using them. He will teach you new spells. He will help you find your Way. And perhaps you will help him find his. “But now, now you must move on. The next step on your Way is out there, and you must take it.” “Heed these words as you travel the Winding Way--A witch’s debt is always paid: once for any simple trade; twice for freely given aid; thrice for any insult made.” She began moving him to the door. “Let none make you their fool. Give generously to your friends and avenge yourself coldly on your enemies. Above all else, remember this— “Do what you will shall be the whole of the law…”
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