Zrair's page

By dwarven standards tall, by human standard short, by both standards strange. White fur mottled brown. Typical features of his race, in their typical positions: protruding muzzle below, pair of black-slit yellow orbs above, and a soft pink nose in the middle framed by short whiskers. A tattered leather coat covers a light mail shirt, thin cloth pants, and a pair of soft leather boots made for quiet steps.

”Why is Loggy still in bed?” The white kit yanks at his father’s tail. He has learned this is the best way to get an adult’s attention, so Zrair is surprised when the he does not even turn to face him.

He replies, after a moment: “Logrethe isn’t feeling well, Zrair, she needs to rest. Go outside, and play with your cousins.”

“I don’t want to. They’ll climb trees and throw the needlecones at me again.”

His father rises from his stool, and set the pestle and mortar on her place. Zrair didn’t struggle as he lifted him up by his scruff, to set him down outside the healer’s hut. He make to walk back to toward the main square, but after a moment turned and crept back. Quietly, he pushes the flap slightly to the side. Straining to balance on his paw-tips, he tries to catch a glimpse of his older sister. Loggy must be faking it, he decides, scared to join their mother on her first hunt.

But as their father rises again from the stool and clears the view, Zrair can’t imagine how even that dedicated trickster could fake the bare patches of skin dotting his sister’s arms and forehead, or the suppurating sores exposed beneath. He closes the curtain, and goes off to find his cousins.

...

“You have barely begun your apprenticeship,” his father replies in a weary tone. "You may be my eldest child, but you are still just that: a child. Your studies are not for you to direct.”

“The study is ancient superstition,” Zrair hisses back. “Herbs and chants, and the spirit will heal the sickness? It’s blind mummery!” Before his father can chasten him for the outburst, the young apprentice turns and sprints out of the healer’s hut. He is already in the treeline by the time his father has moved to the doorway.

Zrair heard his name being called from the village, but he paid it no heed. He slinks around the pines and thrashes through the undergrowth. A minute after the voices have faded into the distance, he stops, and bends over to lift a rock that leans against a rotten stump. He reaches into the damp darkness, and draws out a crude wooden box.

Brushing aside the leaves and needles from a small patch of forest floor, he sets down the container and lifts the lid. The strong stench of decay fills his nostrils, but his muzzle does not wrinkle. From one compartment of the box, he withdraws a stubby bottle capped with cork and half-filled with a clear liquid. He removes the stopper, and the strong smell of lye mixes with the drifting putrescence. Extending a claw from his other hand, he pokes at sparrow lying in the second compartment.

Dead, he observes, but less decomposed, and no maggots. He notes with curiosity the thin, white, gelatinous layer coating the inside the compartment. That substance had not been there with his previous specimen.

He tips the bottle carefully, dripping a few more drops onto the partially decayed corpse, then recorks it and sets it back in its original compartment. Leaning back against the stump, Zrair withdraws his journal, bound with string to a thin charcoal pencil, from the inner pocket of his shirt, and sets about to recording the results of yesterday’s experiment.

...

"I know." His father doesn't look up from worktable, continuing to grind herbs.

Zrair is taken aback. "What do you mean, you know? I said, I'm leaving. Renthel took me along on his last trade mission to the city. There's an apothecary there, and she's taking on apprentices. I'm leaving, today, and-"

"We found your labratory in the forest, Zrair."

Now the young catman was speechless. How dare they follow him, stalk him like some vermin, when he was doing nothing wrong? He shakes away the surprise, and re-adopts his determined air.

"I'm going to Maer-Varza, father. They actually teach alchemy there, the whole science, not this colorless witchcraft you call healing. When I return," if I return, he wants to say, "I will bring back with me the true arts. I will be of better service to the whole village."

"No." His father looked up now, and Zrair was surprised for the third time. This speech had not gone at all how he planned it. "You are still my son, a scion of our people, but these arts you speak of will never be welcome. You may return whenever you wish, child, but you will provide service to no one. The mantle of healer shall pass to Frash, your uncle's son."

Zrair's eyes narrow, and his lips draw back. Forever his father had denied him respect, and truth, and knowledge, and now he was denying him his last moment of rebellion!

"Your mantle," he spat back at the still-seated figure, "is less than a rat's rotten hindclaw! You are an old, blind fool, and your skill is like that of an armorer who has never held a blade. How can you guard life if you know nothing of death? You cannot--you could never have..." He stopped himself, not willing or not needing to voice the final thought. His father shifts back to the workbench, claws clacking against the stone pestle. Zrair spins about and strides stiffly outside. He pushes aside the flap to the healer's hut, and this time he does not turn back.

Zrair
Male Catfolk Vivisectionist 2
N Medium humanoid (catfolk)
Init +4; Senses scent; Perception +5
Favored Class Alchemist +2 hp

===== Defense =====
AC 18, touch 14, flat-footed 14; (armor +4, Dex +4)
hp 18 (2d8+4+2)
Fort +5, Ref +7, Will +0 (+2 vs. poison)
Defensive Abilities Cat's Luck

===== Offense =====
Spd 30 ft., climb 20 ft.
Melee claw +5 (1d4+2) (x2), cold iron dagger +5 (1d4+2/19-20), alchemical silver dagger +5 (1d4+1/19-20)
Ranged sling +5 (1d4+2)
Splash alchemist's fire +6 (1d6+2 fire, 3 splash)
Special Attacks sneak attack +1d6, mutagen (+4 Dex, -2 Wis, +2 natural armor, 20 minutes)

Formulae Known
1st--Anticipate Peril, Cure Light Wounds, Deathwatch Enlarge Person, Shield, True Strike
Extracts Prepared (Alchemist CL 2nd)
1st--Cure Light Wounds, Shield, True Strike

===== Statistics =====
Str 14, Dex 18, Con 15, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 9
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 17
Feats Weapon Finesse, Throw Anything
Traits Highlander, Secret Knowledge (religion)
Skills Craft (alchemy) +8, Disable Device +7, Climb +9, Knowledge (arcana) +6, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +3, Knowledge (nature) +6, Knowledge (religion) +8, Perception +5, Sleight of Hand +4, Spellcraft +6, Stealth +10

Languages Common, Catfolk, Goblin, Sylvan
SQ alchemy (alchemy crafting +2, identify potions), discovery (feral mutagen), poison use, sneak attack, throw anything
Gear adventurer's chronicle (religion), alchemical silver dagger, alchemist's fire (2), alchemist's kit, antiplague, bell, bloodblock, buoyant balloon (3)*, chalk (10), charcoal, cold iron dagger, drow poison, earplugs, flint and steel, ghast retch flask, light detector*, masterwork backpack, masterwork chain shirt, paper (5), potion of enlarge person*, potion of touch of the sea, potion sponge (3), signal whistle, silk rope 50 ft., sling, sling bullets (10), smelling salts, spring-loaded wrist sheath (loaded with cold iron dagger), smoked goggles, smokestick, softpaw boots, soothe syrup*, soldier's uniform, tindertwig (5), torch, trail rations, water purifcation sponge*, 252.08 gp (63 lbs., cc 66/133/200) *crafted

===== Special Abilities =====
Cat's Claws (racial) Catfolk with this racial trait have a pair of claws they can use as natural weapons. These claws are primary attacks that deal 1d4 points of damage.
Cat's Luck (Ex, racial) Once per day when a catfolk makes a Reflex saving throw, he can roll the saving throw twice and take the better result. He must decide to use this ability before the saving throw is attempted.
Climber Catfolk with this racial trait possess a climb speed of 20 feet (along with the +8 racial bonus on Climb checks a climb speed affords). This racial trait replaces sprinter.
Scent Catfolk with this racial trait gain the scent ability. (Racial)
Secret Knowledge (trait) When you initially take this trait, it has no effect. At any point thereafter, before making a check, you may choose one Knowledge skill. You gain a permanent +2 trait bonus on checks for that skill, and it becomes a class skill for you. Once this skill is chosen, it cannot be changed. Note: Set to Knowledge (religion).
Highlander (trait) You gain a +1 trait bonus on Stealth checks and Stealth is a class skill for you. This trait bonus increases to +2 in hills or rocky areas.
Weapon Finesse (feat) With a light weapon, elven curve blade, rapier, whip, or spiked chain made for a creature of your size category, you may use your Dexterity modifier instead of your Strength modifier on attack rolls. If you carry a shield, its armor check penalty applies to your attack rolls.