Lyra Quill's page

AC: 12
Touch: 11 Flat: 11
CMD: 10

HP: 7/7 (dead at -10)

BAB: +0
CMB: -1
Fort: +0
Ref: +1
Will: +2

Init: +1
Speed: 30'

Celestial Resistance: Aasimar have cold resistance 5, electricity resistance 5, and fire resistance 5
Skilled: Peri-blooded Aasimar gain a +2 racial bonus on Spellcraft and Knowledge Plains checks
Spell-Like Ability (Sp): Aasimars can use daylight once per day as a spell-like ability (caster level equal to the aasimar’s class level).
Darkvision: Aasimar can see perfectly in the dark for up to 60 feet.
Scion of Humanity: Some aasimars’ heavenly ancestry is extremely distant. An aasimar with this racial trait counts as an outsider (native) and a humanoid (human) for any effect related to race, including feat prerequisites and spells that affect humanoids. She can pass for human without using the Disguise skill. This racial trait replaces the Celestial language and alters the native subtype.
FCB: 1 Hit Point

Weapon and Armor Proficiency: Arcanists are proficient with all simple weapons. They are not proficient with any type of armor or shield. Armor interferes with an arcanist’s gestures, which can cause her spells with somatic components to fail (see Arcane Spells and Armor).

Arcane Reservoir (Su): An arcanist has an innate pool of magical energy that she can draw upon to fuel her arcanist exploits and enhance her spells. The arcanist’s arcane reservoir can hold a maximum amount of magical energy equal to 3 + the arcanist’s level. Each day, when preparing spells, the arcanist’s arcane reservoir fills with raw magical energy, gaining a number of points equal to 3 + 1/2 her arcanist level. Any points she had from the previous day are lost. She can also regain these points through the consume spells class feature and some arcanist exploits. The arcane reservoir can never hold more points than the maximum amount noted above; points gained in excess of this total are lost.

Points from the arcanist reservoir are used to fuel many of the arcanist’s powers. In addition, the arcanist can expend 1 point from her arcane reservoir as a free action whenever she casts an arcanist spell. If she does, she can choose to increase the caster level by 1 or increase the spell’s DC by 1. She can expend no more than 1 point from her reservoir on a given spell in this way.

Detect Good (Sp): At will, an antipaladin can use detect good, as the spell. An antipaladin can, as a move action, concentrate on a single Item or individual within 60 feet and determine if it is good, learning the strength of its aura as if having studied it for 3 rounds. While focusing on one individual or object, the antipaladin does not detect good in any other object or individual within range.

Consume Spells (Su): At 1st level, an arcanist can expend an available arcanist spell slot as a move action, making it unavailable for the rest of the day, just as if she had used it to cast a spell. She can use this ability a number of times per day equal to her Charisma modifier (minimum 1). Doing this adds a number of points to her arcane reservoir equal to the level of the spell slot consumed. She cannot consume cantrips (0 level spells) in this way. Points gained in excess of the reservoir’s maximum are lost.

Familiar (Su): You gain a familiar, as the wizard arcane bond class feature

Feats
Spell Focus (Evocation): YAdd +1 to the Difficulty Class for all saving throws against spells from the school of magic you select.

Traits
Gifted Satirist: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Linguistics checks, and Linguistics is always a class skill for you. In addition, your irreverent attitude grants you a +2 trait bonus on all saving throws against fear effects.
Magical Lineage (Battering Blast): Pick one spell when you choose this trait. When you apply metamagic feats to this spell that add at least 1 level to the spell, treat its actual level as 1 lower for determining the spell’s final adjusted level.

Dagger: -1, 1d4-1 damage, crit 19-20, slash or pierce
Crossbow: +1, 1d8 damage, crit 19-20, pierce

+1 Acrobatics
+4 Appraise
+3 Bluff
-1 Climb
+4 Craft
+3 Diplomacy
+1 Disable Device
+3 Disguise
+1 Escape Artist
+1 Fly
+0 Heal
+3 Intimidate
+8 Knowledge Arcana 1r
+8 Knowledge Local 1r
+5 Knowledge History 1r
+9 Linguistics 1r
+1 Perception 1r
+3 Perform
-4 Ride
+1 Sense Motive 1r
+10 Spellcraft 1r
+1 Stealth
+0 Survival
-1 Swim
+7 UMD 1r

Spells/Day: 4/0th, 3/1st
Concentration: +5
Spellbook:
0th - Acid Splash, Arcane Mark, Bleed, Cameleon Scales, Dancing Lights, Daze, Detect Fiendish Presence, Detect Magic, Detect Poison, Disrupt Undead, Flare, Ghost Sound, Grasp, Haunted Fey Aspect, Light, Mage Hand, Mending, Message, Oath of Anonymity, Open/Close, Prestidgitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic, Resistance, Scrivener’s Chant, Sotto Voice, Spark, Touch of Fatigue, Vacuous Vessel
1st - Color Spray, Comprehend Language, Ear-Piercing Scream, Mage Armor, Magic Missile, Shield, Vanish
Spells Prepared:
0th - DC 14 Acid Splash, Detect Magic, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation
1st - DC 15 Color Spray, Ear-Piercing Scream

Encumbrance: 18.5/26 lbs
Gear:
Inventory Sheet

Money:
PP: 0
GP: 0
SP: 8
CP: 0

Lyra Quill was born into a home where love was plentiful and fear was practiced like prayer. Her parents weren’t cruel. Quite the opposite—soft hands, warm meals, bedtime stories, the careful kind of affection that tries to cushion a child from a sharp world. But from as early as Lyra could remember, there were rules braided into every kindness. No talk of “miracles.” No lingering in sunlight when the neighbors might see. No answering questions about why her eyes sometimes caught the lamplight wrong, or why strangers’ gazes slid toward her and then away, uneasy without knowing why.

In Cheliax you learn quickly that difference is a liability. In Kintargo you learn something else: even a city famous for art can become a cage the moment the wrong people hold the keys. Lyra’s parents called it prudence. Lyra eventually recognized it as terror—terror of a loose tongue, an envious neighbor, a priest with too much time, a government that loves labels because labels can be punished. So Lyra became what her parents needed her to be: a human daughter with a human smile and a human name.

And then her mind outgrew the lies.

She was the sort of child who heard a sentence once and remembered the exact rhythm of it forever. The kind who corrected tutors politely—and then made them laugh so they wouldn’t resent her for it. A bright girl in Kintargo is tolerated. A bright girl who can charm a room is invited back. Words became her second education. Kintargo’s performers taught her that comedy is a blade you can hold by the handle, and that you can smuggle truth into a crowd if you wrap it in applause. Lyra started small: witty letters, anonymous broadsheets, little “harmless” plays passed hand to hand—entertainment with teeth. She learned the old local art of hiding scathing political commentary inside something everyone pretends is only a joke, the exact craft the city’s gifted satirists pride themselves on.

Then the arcane spark caught. It didn’t arrive like a burst of flame. It arrived like clarity—patterns settling into place, invisible frameworks revealing themselves behind everyday life. Lyra didn’t so much “discover” magic as realize the world had always been written in a language she could finally read.

A raven appeared less than a fortnight later. No cage. No summons. No purchase receipt. It arrived on her windowsill one night while she was drafting a satirical letter that was just a little too honest for anyone’s safety. The bird stared at her ink-stained fingers as if judging the work. When Lyra muttered that she’d apparently earned herself a critic, it gave a single, dry caw—too precisely timed to be coincidence.

From then on, the raven kept finding her. It would show up before trouble, or when Lyra’s nerves ran too tight. Sometimes it brought “gifts”: a torn scrap of posted notice, a ribbon, a coin from a pocket that had no business being lighter. It watched her the way a lock watches a key.

Lyra’s parents begged her to stop writing. Begged her to stop noticing. To stop being brave in ways that invited consequences. They loved her fiercely—but fear has its own gravity, and it kept trying to pull her back into hiding. Then Barzillai Thrune took Kintargo, and martial law fell over the city like a lid. People who had once laughed at devils in costume suddenly whispered in doorways. The opera house—Kintargo’s pride—was shuttered and repurposed. Rumors multiplied faster than truth.
So Lyra chose a risk that felt like a decision.

When she heard about the protest in Aria Park, she told her parents she was going “to listen.” That wasn’t a lie—public protests are information-rich, and Lyra had always known how to read a crowd. But Lyra also went because she’d finished something new: a short satirical piece, memorized instead of written down, designed to sound like a silly Kintargan ditty… right up until the moment everyone realized what, exactly, they were laughing at. She went because fear has had enough years of her life. And because as she stepped into the swelling crowd south of the opera house, the raven landed nearby—calm, certain, watching the world like it already knew the next page of the story.

Lyra Quill moves through Kintargo like she belongs everywhere—smiling at the right moments, offering a clever remark when a room starts to sour, and never appearing ruffled for long. She has the practiced ease of someone who learned early that likability is a kind of armor.

Up close, the polish has seams. Lyra watches people the way she watches spellwork: for structure, for tells, for the moment a pattern breaks. She’s affectionate, even warm, but careful about intimacy—always editing what she reveals, always making sure the “human” version of her is the one the world remembers.

Her humor is her real confession. She jokes when she’s afraid. She flatters when she’s measuring you. She laughs when she’s cornered. And when she decides you’re safe, the wit softens into something honest: a bright, stubborn hope she keeps hidden as fiercely as anything celestial.

A raven is rarely far away.

Appearance
Lyra Quill looks human at a glance—deliberately so. She’s average height with a slim, tidy build, the kind of frame that reads more “quick” than “strong.” Her movements are economical and confident, like someone used to threading through crowds and never quite losing track of the exits. Her hair is dark brown, nearly black, worn long and usually kept pinned back or braided when she’s working or traveling—practical, but with enough care that it always looks intentional. A few wisps tend to escape around her temples when she’s excited or annoyed, which is often when the witty remarks start. Her face is fine-boned with a clever mouth—a smile that arrives fast and can turn sharp just as quickly. Her eyes are gray-green, bright and attentive; when she’s thinking hard they fix on people with an intensity that can feel like she’s reading footnotes in your expression. In certain light—sun on water, lamplight on polished glass—there’s an almost imperceptible golden warmth at the edge of her irises that she’s trained herself to keep from lingering on anyone’s notice.

She dresses like a Kintargan who wants to be remembered for her words, not her wardrobe: well-made but not ostentatious, leaning toward dark neutrals with one small flourish—an ink-blue scarf pinned with a silver pin shaped like a quill that catches the light. She keeps gloves more often than fashion requires and favors high collars and layered sleeves—useful for warmth, useful for anonymity, useful for never giving the world a clear look at too much of her.

If there’s anything that betrays her otherness, it’s not a halo or luminous skin—it’s the way she seems a fraction too composed when chaos hits, as if some part of her refuses to be cowed. And then there’s the raven: often close enough to look like coincidence, perched somewhere just behind her shoulder line like a punctuation mark.

A final detail she’d never point out herself: Lyra smells faintly of ink, paper, and citrus peel—the scent of someone who writes late into the night and refuses to waste a good lemon.

Level 1: +1 HP | Skills: K. Arcane, K. Local, Perception, Sense Motive, Spellcraft, UMD, Linguistics, K. History | Exploit: Familar