Willow Nevardmipth's page

Ben... her snake. Playing with archetypes and I like emissary better than valet. Guidance over cooperative crafting. Hopefully that will be my last change.

So given that...

full buffs from Willow (to herself) are
Endure Elements(constant from Iceplant), Feather Fall(at will from flight hex), Defending Bone (DR 5/bludgeoning, 8 hours), Waterproof(stay dry, 8 hours), Heroism(+2 moral bonus, attack, skills, saves, 80 minutes), whispering lore(+4 insight bonus on knowledge skill, 80 minutes), see invisible(80 minutes), guidance(from Ben, +1 competence bonus on single attack, save, skill, 1 minute), Tap Inner Beauty(+2 insight bonus to charisma skill checks, 8 minutes), comprehend languages(80 minutes)

Lowest spell dc is 18 (level 0, not necromancy/conjuration spell)
Highest spell dc is 23 (level 4, necromancy/conjuration spell)
hex DCs are 22 (23 for whatever her corset of dire witchcraft is boosting, typically Slumber)
+6 to spell penetration, caster level 8, so +14 all together. +16 concentration check

Now for her attack, which is sad
[dice=melee dagger strike, heroism, guidance]1d20+2+2+1[/dice]
[dice=damage]1d4-2[/dice]
unbuffed
[dice=melee dagger strike]1d20+2[/dice]
[dice=damage]1d4-2[/dice]

Willow is a witch with a violent bent, an insatiable desire to experience and learn, a taste for finer things, and a brilliant mind shattered repeatedly from studying those that should never be looked at. Her current place in the world is the brewmaster of the Inn and Out, a rather unusual fusion of an inn and a not exactly legal import/export company, which is nestled rather clozily in Alyushinnyrra, city of untold riches, metropolis of untold ways to die, capital of lust and mayhem and murder. Willow’s personality would be a hindrance in most places in the universe, but here, she is practically at home. She currently worships Yog-Sothoth, but in truth it is more of worshiping a desire to Know, to understand, and what is more unknowable than the darkness between the stars.
She finds comfort in Pesisla’s presence, though the idea that the other woman is in love with her baffles her to the point that she mostly ignores the fact. Though there are moments that the draw is nearly too much to do so.

what Willow looks like, ben her snake familiar is there as well

Persiska was once named The Unmovable Bloodwall, a steady stone of death that hordes broke on. A warpriest of Gorum whose only desire was Battle. Until she found the broken mess of a witch dangling from chains in a torture chamber. Her tormentors were huddled in the fetal position all around her, whimpering, not at the Bloodwall’s arrival, but the constant dark whisperings of the lovely elf captive inching into their minds.
Something shifted in Persiska over those next few weeks, its seed planted that day, but blooming at such a ridiculous rate, she was truly helpless against it. The Bloodwall had fallen in love.
Soon after, she retired from being a mercenary bouncing from war to war, and instead followed Willow to Alyushinnyrra, becoming a barmaid at the Inn and Out. Gorum might have been upset, having one of his priestess’s leaving war to serve drinks, but trouble follows that witch like a plague and there are always people needing killing in Alyushinnnyrra if her bloodlust becomes too much.

what Persiska looks like. Imagine the sword as the pointed end of a bardiche, and her full plate armor has a glamor to make it look lighter and less protective. Plus she thinks it looks cool.

Ben CR –
Viper (Pathfinder RPG Bestiary 133)
N Tiny magical beast (animal)
Init +3; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +16
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Defense
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AC 22, touch 15, flat-footed 19 (+3 Dex, +7 natural, +2 size)
hp 20 (1d8-1)
Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +7
Defensive Abilities improved evasion
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Offense
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Speed 20 ft., climb 20 ft., swim 20 ft.
Melee bite +9 (1d2-3 plus poison)
Space 2 ft.; Reach 0 ft.
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 8th; concentration +4)
. . At will—guidance
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Statistics
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Str 4, Dex 17, Con 8, Int 9, Wis 13, Cha 2
Base Atk +4; CMB +5; CMD 12 (can't be tripped)
Feats Weapon Finesse
[b]Skills Acrobatics +3 (-1 to jump), Bluff +4, Climb +11, Fly +15, Heal +5, Intimidate -3, Linguistics +5, Perception +16, Sense Motive +12, Spellcraft +7, Stealth +15, Swim +11; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception, +4 Stealth
Languages speak with animal (same kind only), speak with master
SQ domain influence (Memory), empathic link, poison, recall, share will
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Special Abilities
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Climb (20 feet) You have a Climb speed.
Divine Guidance (Sp) An emissary can cast guidance at will.
Domain Influence (Sp, Su) Gain domain power.
Domain Influence Domain (Memory)
Empathic Link (Su) You have an empathic link with your master.
Improved Evasion (Ex) No damage on successful reflex save; half on failed save.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in dim light, distinguishing color and detail.
Poison (DC 13) Viper Poison: Bite—injury; save Fort DC 13; frequency 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 1d2 Con; cure 1 save. The save DC is Constitution-based.
Recall (+1, 1/day) (Su) Touched creature can retry a failed knowledge check with a +1 bonus
Scent (Ex) Detect opponents within 15+ ft. by sense of smell.
Share Will (1/day) (Su) When your or familiar fails a save, the other can roll in their place, but failure affects both.
Speak with Animals of its Kind (Ex) You can communicate verbally with animals similar to yourself.
Speak with Master (Ex) You can communicate verbally with your master.
Swim (20 feet) You have a Swim speed.

"You want to make a… What?" Persiska asked. Persiska was one of the wait staff of the Inn and Out, a deliciously irritable young woman of questionable origins and a very mean right hook.

"A Complaint, you rancid-" the dretch started, clearly going into vulgarity that was unbecoming of a fine establishment, so Persiska slammed down the cup she was cleaning and snapped "FINE, but it's your funeral."

Moments later, another young woman, an elf quite comely, dressed in a scintillating dress of creams and lavenders whose skirts bounced, the bodice shimmered, and was accompanied with a floppy hat. Of whici8, a pale snake sliped out of its top tip to eye the complaining dretch.

"What is your problem with your order?" the young woman asked, crossing her arms behind the bar with a stare as cold as the space between the stars. "Please be specific"

The dretch shook the blood-red gunk in a glass, splattering the sludge on himself, the counter, everywhere, even HER. "This blood ain’t halfling, it's gnome if I ever tasted it and what’s this black bit floating in it, and the smell?? It's like… … … vanilla." he almost vomited out the last word.

The woman looked at the red spot on her dress, the cold cracking in her eyes so suddenly that Persiska, who had once killed and eaten a troll, decided to step back.

But a deep breath later, and a muttering about The Customer being Right, had the elf explaining instead of killing "The drink does not require halfling, any dimulative race works, and this particular gnome practically pickled himself for a century before the bloodletting. His vintage is beyond reproach. The ‘black bit’ is ground pepper, a seasoning to add a spike to the flavor and Yes the vanilla was added for its aroma but also to counterbalance the pepper. Layering a smoothness over the spike so it could sneak up the drinker" she managed with stable tones. "It is pure perfection. If you just want a basic Bloody Small Stabber, you go to Gussies or the Spewing Rectum. You do not go to the Inn and Out." The young woman was clearly proud of the place she worked.

All that was clearly lost on the demon. "It’s dung!" the dretch barked in the brewer's face. "I ain’t paying"

The young-looking woman suddenly brightened "Okay"

Persiska frowned "Okay?" clearly that response was not what she was expecting.

"Yes okay" the lady looked at the waitress "Because if he is not paying, then he is not a customer"

"Oh!"

The smile they shared should have warned the demon to suddenly change his mind and pay, Heck, pay double and apologize, but he rather smugly thought that he had won. That was right before two horrible creatures appeared beside him like the dark spaces in your mind-shattering open with spikes, glass, and two very wrong grins.

"Take him in the back" she told the two nightmares "I have been wondering if a lengthy fermentation cycle with leeches and bleach would make a dretch palatable. All I was waiting for was a volunteer."

Later, after the dretch had been dealt with…
"HHHHFFFPPPT!" The sounds of frustration bounced all about the near empty kitchen. Not empty enough, Persiska sighed, meaning herself, not her company "Is there anything I can do to help?" not wanting to help, but knowing as soon as Willow got done, the sooner Persiska could go Home.
The too bright lavender eyes darted her way, that gleam of madness that skittered across her polished perfection both worried and drew in the once soldier. The horrors of possibilities within those orbs rushed out before the stern beauty gobbled then back down "Oh, Persiska, I forgot you were here." she hadn’t, she never forgot anything, but it was her way of apologizing. What your life must have been like to make lying to someone mean the same as apologizing baffled Persiska. The brewmaster’s eyes went back to the vials "I need an acid. Sulfuric is not meshing well with Chelixian wine and hydrophilic practically boils the candied rum. But to truly understand the two flavors I need a slight… sloughing of the inner walls of the drinker's esophagus… hmmm…"
Persiska got lost a moment in looking at those lips, chewing on themselves as the other woman worked on the problem. "Um…Petals Under The Floor is spewing netherworld poetry at that night club I told you about earlier." She ran her hand through her black hair, looking away with a slight blush, that she hated came out but could do nothing about "That fey might be full of little more than hate and spite, but she knows more about liquids that can melt a man than anyone I know." she looked back, to see those eyes on her again.
"Want to go?"

"You are not in the list" Tuxedo-wearing Vavakia doorman says to the "couple?" Willow had slipped into her most decadent fabrics, silken fae winged creams, coal crushed blacks, with startling accents of violets so bright they hurt. Persiska went for red leather armor.
‘WHY? Gods and devils!’ she fumed at herself, ‘People don’t wear armor on dates, if this is what that was… was it?’
"So?" Willow responded with her usually brittle cold.
"So that means, you ain’t getting in, snow pop." the ‘snow pop’ obviously gave Willow pause, wondering where that came from, she even looked down at her dress, thinking Snow, maybe, but Pop?
"We’re here to see-" Persiska started to say, but Willow gave her a look that meant, ‘I will handle this slug’ before a slight softening which added a silent ‘please’.
After a moment of getting lost again, Persiska sighed and inclined her head.
A brief smile of thanks, then Willow opened her bag, a small pouch of glistening pearl, pulling out a dusty bottle that could not fit normally in its tiny confines. "This is pre-earthfall Golarion, caught in a time bubble for nearly a thousand years before nestling under the seas, protected and chilled in a mithral case for all the remaining years. Despite those two conditions, it is arguably one of the most spoiled messes the wine world has ever known." demons like experiences, good or bad doesn’t matter, so the greed in the Vavakia’s eyes is bright. "And no this is not for you, you inconceivably stupid ass. It is for someone considerably more important Than You. So you will let us in, so they can receive it."
The demon grew even more sour than before, which Persiska found humorous: "Deliveries go in the back."
"This wine goes through the front door or it does not enter at all." the elf’s frosty tone almost misting her breath.
"Leaving you to explain ‘Why it did Not’ to your superiors." Persiska added, not wanting to be left out of the fun completely. "Petals told me about that last doorman…" leaving it open, cause she knew nothing about that last doorman, but in Alyushinnyrra there was always someone before you that met a horrible end.
Moments later they were in the club, pressing through the crowd of humanoids and demons toward a corner stage where poetry night was held. "What’s in the bottle?" Persiska leaned in close to ask over the massive Booing, breathing in the varied scents of the insane but impressive witch. "Urine, I believe, but exactly what type of demon produced it and why they stored it to collect dust in a basement is beyond me… so far."