About Sylvia Pari
old stat block:
Init +3 (+5 with mutagen), Senses Perception +8 (low-light vision)
AC 22 (+5 armor, +5 dex, +2 natural), T 15, FF 16 (with mutagen)
AC 18 (+5 armor, +3 dex), T 13, FF 14 (no mutagen)
HP 35 (4d8+12, with toughness and favored class)
Fort +5 Ref +7 (+9 with mutagen) Will +2 (+1 with mutagen)
Speed 30 ft.
Melee Rapier +3
Ranged Bombs +7 (+9 with mutagen), 2d6+4 fire, 5' splash for 6.
Str 10 Dex 16 Con 12 Int 18 Wis 12 Cha 10
Base Atk +3 CMB +3 CMD 15 (17 with mutagen)
Feats Bonus at 1: Brew Potion, Throw Anything; 1: Toughness; 3: Extra Bombs
Traits Strong Arm, Supple Wrists; Fast-talker
Skills Bluff +8, Craft(Alchemy) +15, Disable Device +10, Knowledge(Arcana) +10, Perception +8, Sleight of Hand +10, Spellcraft +11, Survival +8
Bombs per day 10, 2d6+4 fire Attack: +3 base, +3/+5 Dex, +1 Throw Anything. Range 20' plus 10' if move 10' in the turn (trait). DC 16 (10+2+4).
Extracts per day 4/2
Mutagen Normally prepare +2 natural armor/+4 Dex/-2 Wis.
Formulae list: 1st (8) bomber's eye*, crafter's fortune*,
Discoveries Precise bombs: Whenever the alchemist throws a bomb, he can select a number of squares equal to his Intelligence modifier that are not affected by the splash damage from his bombs.  If the bomb misses, this discovery has no effect. Explosive bomb*: The alchemist's bombs now have a splash radius of 10 feet rather than 5 feet. Creatures that take a direct hit from an explosive bomb catch fire, taking 1d6 points of fire damage each round until the fire is extinguished. Extinguishing the flames is a full-round action that requires a Reflex save. Rolling on the ground provides the target with a +2 to the save. Dousing the target with at least 2 gallons of water automatically extinguishes the flames.
Equipment (6000) MW Studded leather +2 (4175)[+4/+5/-0], alchemist's kit (25/5), alchemist's lab (200/40), mule [Chanticleer] (8/-), pack saddle for mule(5/15), rapier (20/2), formulae book, bandolier x2 (1/-), Created alchemical items (180/14), pony (30), saddle (10), masterwork thieves' tools (100).
Alchemical grease, vermin repellent, armor ointment, alchemical glue, alchemical solvent, tindertwig, smoke pellet, weapon blanch (silver), weapon blanch (adamantine), acid, alchemist's fire, shard gel, bottled lightning, pellet grenade (iron), tanglefoot bag, thunderstone, banshee ballerina firework.
"Notice to Cease and Desist from Publick Nuisance, aforesaid being Noise and Commotion most Distressing to the Publick, and to Appear in Low Court to Answer to the Charges of Harmful Noise and Odours Most Vile emanating from a domicile..."
Sylvia stopped reading and tossed the notice on the table next to her booted feet. She'd moved, for heaven's sake, and wasn't even in the city anymore, but authorities didn't seem to want to let it drop. She shuffled through the bundle of messages until one on heavy paper fastened with a dark red seal caught her eye. Lord Wallingham requests your presence... She thumbed the thick vellum, pondering. It might be time to take a bit of a trip until things blew over. Chanticleer would be disappointed - the mule liked this new spot in a cabin away from the city, where the smells of brewing chemicals and sounds of occasional detonations bothered few people. But Chanticleer didn't make the decisions. It was time for him to earn his keep. Sylvia started packing.
Some years before:
"I don't understand why nothing happened. I swear I did it right!"
"Something happened with Horace's brew. That mark on the ceiling is not gonna come off."
Sylvia leaned against the wall outside the university's laboratory, propped on her broom and rolling her eyes at the complaints of the students. Sounded like she'd better be careful. She'd never been assigned to this wing of the Arcane and Scientifick Arts building before. Decades of cleaning, from childhood on, had made her a trusted employee, so after a lecture about the dangers of the labs, Groundskeeper William had sent her to work.
She waited until the students trailed out, then scooted into the lab, in a hurry to get this room finished and get on to the next. The professor didn't bother to look up as he packed his parchments and exited. Sylvia wielded her broom diligently, but the work was desperately boring, as always. She idly read the formula the professor had posted on the slate, and peered curiously at the little labeled vials on the racks. "This doesn't look so hard. I don't know why they're complaining."
Once the room was clean and tidy, she looked again at the formula and impulsively headed for the shelves of ingredients. "They won't notice any missing. The students spoil half of it. Let's just see what this does. I'm sure it will only take a minute."
The hard-faced woman looked down at the child whose hand she held. "C'mon, brat. Time to pay us back for all the food you've eaten since Gammer and Gaffer picked you up. What were they thinking? You won't be able to do real work for years yet. They should have cashed you in right away."
She once again compared the coat of arms on the locket she held to the one on the pillar by the great iron gates, nodded her head, and went about her task, tugging the child with her.
"Interesting. And this was what? Fifty years ago, you say?"
"About that, sir." Elven dignity rather overwhelmed the woman. She kicked herself for answering so deferentially, but continued to do so.
"This is the seal of our house." The tall elf regarded the human before him with a calm, analytical stare. "You are far too young to have been involved in the theft of this piece. I thank you for its return. Here is a gold piece for your honesty." He held out the coin in gloved fingers as the other hand dropped the necklace into his coat pocket. "As for the child..." He frowned. "There are none missing from our family. We have no interest in this one. Faila will show you out."
"Throw more," the woman snarled, lashing the horses despite their already frantic pace and frothing sides, "We need to dump weight."
A bundle sailed into the shrubs alongside the road with a faint wail. "Was that the baby?" the woman cried in dismay.
"Yeah..." the man grunted as he heaved a cask over the wagon's side, "I'm tossing everything not of value. We may have to unhitch the horses and lose the wagon." His keen eyes could see the glint of metal on the approaching horsemen, far off though were in the moonlight.
"No value... did you happen to think to take the necklace off the brat first?"
"Necklace? Ah, gods dammit woman, why would you put part of the loot on the baby?"
"I was just trying it on for a laugh... oh, they're not falling back yet. Keep throwing things! The trinket is gone!"
Sylvia is tall and a bit gangly, with long hair that fails to cover the points of her ears. Typically dressed in a leather duster and pants with leather boots and a cap with goggles, she is festooned with vials and flasks when ready for action. Though she is distinctly elven, with pale skin, black hair, and grey eyes, her mannerisms and speech are almost entirely those of the human society in which she was raised. Years in the Orphanarium have given her an uncanny throwing arm and the ability to talk her way out of a situation.
Though unwilling to admit it, she has been a bit stung all of her life at the lack of interest shown in her - an elf among humans - by other elves. Not yet realizing that she is not the center of the universe and that the elves she has encountered could not possibly have known of her forced separation from their society, she's reflexively rejected the elves by epitomizing all that they disdain and rejecting them as archaic relics. She knows little about 'weeds and trees' and embraces Better Living Through Alchemy as her means to lead the world to a brighter future.