Zelrim Windsinger's page

Velrim Windsong

Halfling Copper Canoneer 1

NG

Init +5; Senses ; Perception +7
Defense

AC 22; Touch 15; Flat-Footed 20

HP 10; Wounds 32; Non-Lethal —

Fort +5 ; Ref +6 ; Will +1 (+2 Fear save)

DR —; Immune —; Resist —; SR —
Offense

Speed 20; With Armor 15;

Melee +5 Boarding Axe (1d4 +1, x3); P/S;

Melee +5 Sea Knife (1d3 +1, 19-20/2); s;

Ranged +6 MW Handcannon (2d6/3d6, x4); B&P; 30-Scatter/Ball

Ranged +5 Pistolx4 (1d6, x4); B&P; 20

Spells Known/Prepared

Statistics

Str 12, Dex 19, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 17

Base Atk +2; CMB +2

Feats Tower Shield Proficiency, Precise Shot, Mounted Combat

Skills acrobatics +4, appraise +1, bluff +3, climb +1, diplomacy +7, disable Device -, disguise +3, escape Artist +4, fly -, handle Animal +7, heal +1, intimidate +3, knowledge Arcana -, knowledge Dungeoneering -, knowledge Engineering +5, knowledge Geography -, knowledge History -, knowledge Local -, knowledge Nature -, knowledge Nobility -, knowledge Planes -, knowledge Religion -, linguistics -, perception +7, perform: Sea Shanty +7, perform: Lore-The Sea +4, profession: Sailor +5, ride +10, sense Motive +3, sleight Of Hand -, spellcraft -, stealth +8, survival +1, swim +5, use Magic Device -

Languages Common, Halfling, Dwarven

SQ Canoneer (Ex), Mounted Cannon (Ex), Sea Legs (Ex), Wind Whistler (Su), Caretaker (Racial), Fearless (Racial), Keen Senses (Racial), Gunsmithing (General), Order of the Sea (Ex), Mount (Ex)

Gear MW Boarding Axe, Alchemical Charges (35), Sea Knife, Spell Component Pouch, Fishing Net, Caviliers Kit, Powder Horns (2), Throwing Axe, Gunsmith Kit; Money

Praesidium

Male Snapping Turtles Snapping Turtle 3

N

Init ; Senses ; Perception
Defense

AC 26; Touch 10; Flat-Footed 26

HP 16; Wounds 22; Non-Lethal —

Fort +3 ; Ref +3 ; Will +1

DR —; Immune —; Resist —; SR —
Offense

Speed 20; Swim 20;

Melee 0 Bite (1d6-1, x2); B &P;

Ranged +1 MW Handcannon (2d6, x4); B & P;

Spells Known/Prepared

Statistics

Str 8, Dex 10, Con 11, Int 1, Wis 13, Cha 6

Base Atk 1; CMB 0

Feats Light Armor Proficiency, Medium Armor Proficiency

Skills

Languages

SQ Low Light Vision, Hold Breath (Ex), Scent (Ex), Evasion

Gear Chainmail Barding; Money

With blocky, blackened metal earings, untamed dreads the color of a stormy sky, and a beard infested with beads and colorful minutia, a passerby would be hardly be shocked to hear the mangy, wild haired halfling before them was a sailor of mild repute. His armor, a haphazard mix of chainmail, sharkskin, and pouches holding various tools and firearms, fitted his purpose well enough. It was the damnable hat, a tattered tricorn of a faded black, that sold the image of seaman. Yet, his bearded grin held no malice, nor did his hands constantly reach for the black powder killers affixed to his person.

Now as for the beast beside him, that's was a entirely different story. It's shell more resembled a mountain range than the smooth shell of it's relatives, with the jagged appearance continuing to it's triangular maw, it dwarfed the odd looking seaman with ease. Despite the prehistoric appearance of the amphibian, it was the attachments that drew the eye's gaze. A cannon the length of the creature, with a complex series of rigging and cords running across Praesidium's shell was the highlight, although the chainmail laying atop the sturdy looking natural armor was equally strange. The dark saddle, obviously made of shark leather with a careful glance, laid atop the cannon, with multiple saddle bags strewn in nondisruptive locations across the snapping turtle's side and backs made it clear what Praesidium was. He was a warbeast, meant to wreck havoc and turn the tide of battle.

As a Copper Canoneer, Zelrim and his trusty bond Praesidium have earned a living working as a defender for hire atop the great oceans of the world. Properly equipped for a life at sea, Zelrim has found all he needs in life is his shelled brother and the salty air. The bastard child of a well known artisan, Zelrim was quickly sent off where he was adopted by a seafairing couple. They taught him the ways of the sea, of rigging and of the fickle nature every sea hid beneath tranquil waves, as well as introduced him to Praesidium. It was however Captain Je'zzare that truly guided the young wanderer. There, he learned the meaning of being a crewman, and just what he was capable of. It wasn't long before the sight of the halfling dipping beneath the waves with tower shield in hand and cannon between his legs was common.

"Nothin' quite like th' sun in yer face 'n th' sea breeze in yer hair, eh Praesidium?" One may have thought the sea worn halfling was talking to himself, if not for the rumbling assent that rippled through him. The sailor, deceptively old appearing, continued, "'n here I thought carryin' cargo between th' ship would 'ave been hard. But 'tis been smooth sailin' thus far."

Reaching up to stretch after his lounging break, Zelrim did a small shake letting loose an avalanche of pops. His mount gurgled, and begin swimming towards the nearest ship. The ship, one of many schooners in the flotilla, holding good destined for another island nation, made no alterations to it's course as the pair neared. As his friend pulled alongside the larger vessel, a few of the sailors began to shout to Zelrim. "Done slackin' lad? Some o' us 'ave work t' do, so take this 'n piss off." The words, despite their harshness, had a familiar tone similar to a distance relative joking mockery. With a synchronized heave, a crate came crashing into the water. Scampering to secure the cargo in a vaguely tugboat fashion, the young sailor leaned down near the head of his mount. "T' th' Victory." Slowly, Praesidium began swimming towards the Victory, one of the few Frigates traveling alongside them.

As the duo sped towards the dual masted ship, Zelrim stared with wonder at the brass cannons lining the broadside. He was no stranger to guns, especially amid the current nature of sea travel. His pistol hardly compared however to one of the nearly half foot bored monstrosities. As he speculated ideal bore and length he suddenly found himself nearly tossed from his position on the snapping turtles's now rearing back. Clutching at the rope handholds he had place for pulling himself from the water, his eyes caught his destination alight, the tarred wood taking to the flame like a sailor to rum. Through a hole running thoughout the hull, he saw an unfamiliar ship flying a familiar flag. "Pirates!" Even as he hugged the descending back of Praesidium, his mind raced. Th' Victory had some o' th' largest cannons in th' armada. I can nah let them sink 'n leave th' fleet outgunned.

Taking a hand free, the halfling slapped his companions shell, and indicated him to go deeper. With barely any hesitation, the turtle barreled under the waves just as Zelrim gave a quick kick, his sea knife slicing the hemp binding the crate to his companion. As they dove deeper a single finger pointed towards their target, one of the cannon's separated from it's cradle. I 'ave an idea, but 'tis nah me smartest one. Damn it though, fer th' flotilla!

Just as the cannon neared his reach, the diminutive seaman pulled it close. Holding it down, he began a slap dash series of rigging even as he pulled a handful of alchemical charges free. Shoving them into the barrel, he chased it with every bullet he had, a expected month of sea travel worth. His view dimmed, and as he looked up the enemy vessel sailed overhead. I 'ave hit th' jackpot. Using his last vestiges of air, he gestured for Praesidium to swim upwards, towards the belly of the overhead ship.

Drawing closer to the surface, he readied a spark pin, the shanty the Victory's crew used to sing ringing in his mind. Oh, we're the gang for the kick 'er through. Handy, me boys, so handy! As the barrel brushed the keel, he slammed home the pin, igniting the shot.

After returning to the world of the living, Zelrim found himself laying across a cannon, with two halves of a sinking ship on either side of him. A deafening wave struck him, and for a moment he sat dazed. As his hearing returned alongside his enflamed nerves, he heard the din across the waves. "Fer th' Victory!"