The Great Farwen Expedition
Male Half-Elf Alchemist 1
Neutral Medium Humanoid (Elf, Human)
Init +2; Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +6
AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12 (1)
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +0
Immune sleep; Resist Elven Immunities, Failed Apprentice, Issian
Spd 30 ft.
Melee Dagger 4 Fire) and
Sling 4 (5/day) (DC 14)
Alchemist Formulae Known: (CL 1, 0 melee touch, 2 ranged touch):
1 (2/day) Bomber’s Eye (DC 15), 1 free slot
Str 10, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 19, Wis 10, Cha 14
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 12
Feats Brew Potion, Point Blank Shot, Skill Focus: Knowledge: Nature (Adaptability), Throw Anything
Traits Failed Apprentice, Fast-Talker, Issian
Skills Acrobatics +2, Appraise +4, Bluff +3, Climb +0, Craft: Alchemy +8, Diplomacy +2, Disguise +2, Escape Artist +2, Fly +2, Heal +4, Intimidate +2, Knowledge: Arcana +8, Knowledge: Nature +11, Perception +6, Ride +2, Sense Motive +0, Sleight of Hand +6, Spellcraft +8, Stealth +2, Survival +4, Swim +0, Use Magic Device +6 Modifiers Alchemy +1
Languages Common, Daemonic, Draconic, Elven, Giant, Sylvan
SQ Elf Blood, Mutagen (DC 14) (Su)
Combat Gear Bullets (20), Dagger, Leather Sling, Bomb Catalysts (5)
Alchemy 4 (5/day) (DC 14) (Su) Thrown Splash Weapon deals 1d6+4 fire damage.
Elf Blood You are counted as both elves and humans for any effect relating to race.
Elven Immunities +2 save bonus vs Enchantments.
Elven Immunities – Sleep You are immune to Sleep effects.
Failed Apprentice +1 save vs. arcane spells.
Issian +1 Will save vs. Mind-affecting.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail.
Mutagen (DC 14) (Su) Mutagen adds +4 to a Physical attribute, -2 to a mental attribute, and +2 natural armor for 10 minutes/level.
Point Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.
Throw Anything Proficient with improvised ranged weapons. +1 to hit with thrown splash weapons.
Even as a child Ingle saw himself as single-mindedly ambitious. His father, however, saw him as enthusiastically rudderless. The half-elven boy had a knack for letting his mouth run a few paces ahead of his brain. Indeed, some days it seemed to his beleagured patron that the boys mind hadn’t even entered the race. Yet there was no denying the child’s intellect. Nor his curiousity.
Growing up in northern Issia near the mouth of the Choral river, Ingle found life both exciting and wonder-filled as well as immensely dull. This latter he owed mainly to the other children of Edmuth, who found his constant hair-brained schemes tiresome. As the boy reached his teens it was not uncommon for him to return home in the late afternoon bruised or bleeding from his playmates attempts to “settle him down a bit”. Though he eventually did learn to talk himself out of these “helpful” corrections, he failed to learn the art of avoiding the need for them. Fearing more for the boys mental well being than any real concern for his physical, his father, Menion, sent the 14 year old off to apprentice under the village mage. He hoped that this would provide an outlet for the boys uncontrolled imagination.
It proved… well, quite disasterous, to put a kindly spin on it.
After only 10 months Ingle was sent home with the gentle admonishment to “never so much as think of setting foot in this school again. Not even in the yard, if you please.” His aptitude for magic was not entirely non-existant however. While he never was able to cast a single spell or conjure so much as a draft of luke-warm air, he did grasp a certain amount of the workings of spellcraft. And he discovered a new ambition. He would learn to cast those idiotic incantations on his own. No need for the waving about of hands and all that mumbling nonsense; not when he had alchemy to do the work for him. (And this is not to even mention his newfound disdain for the clergy. Sure, a cleric can cast spells. But who wants to be at the whim of some sodding god or another. They’re liable to hold back that one spell you really need, right when you really need it, just for the fun of it. Well, that’s what he would do if he were a god…)
To this purpose he dedicated the next 10 years of his life. HIs father, it may be noted, was not only pleased at his sons propensity for the art of alchemical invention, but also for the fact that the boy seemed a little less rudderless than he had. And there was money to be made in the selling of tindertwigs and the like. Not that Ingle had much interest in tindertwigs… He had bigger plans. Much bigger plans.