<div class="floatright">(http://i741.photobucket.com/albums/xx51/Calliedelnoire/SorrowProfile.jpg)</div><hr/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;">Mistress Valerianna Tarn</span></span></strong>,<em>Tiefling Gunslinger</em><br/><strong>Character Sheet</strong>(http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=8678)<strong>HP</strong>:26 (Current: 26)<strong>AC</strong>: 17,<span class="bbc_u"><em>touch</em></span>: 13,<span class="bbc_u"><em>flatfooted</em></span>: 14<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"> Init: +3 Perception:+6   Saves: F:+3 W:+6 R:+1</span><br/><hr/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Combat Notes</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Grit</strong>: 1 <strong>Deeds</strong>:<em> Deadeye, Leap for Cover, Quick Clear, Pistol Whip, Utility Shot (Blast Lock, Scoot Object, Stop Bleeding) </em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Revolver</strong>: +3, +6 RT; 1d8, 20/x4 Range: 20 Ammo: 6; Notes: 2, 1 Currently broken</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Pistol</strong>: +3, +6 RT; 1d8, 20/x4 Range: 20 Ammo: 1</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Longsword</strong>, MW: +4; 1d8, 19-20/x2 </span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Buffs</strong>:<br/><strong>-Potions</strong></span><br/><hr/></div></div><br/><strong>"I expect you'd best tell her the coachman is most likely dead also."</strong>Valerianna said to Alex as she fished out a small pack wrapped in soft calfskin leather as she headed towards the tavern.<strong>"And I imagine I have some questions for her by then."</strong>The tiefling said as she walked towards the tavern. Right now she wanted a pint or two, something stew based with meat in it and some bread to sop up the dregs with before she was done. That and enough table space to work on her gun and shaded enough that she can lurk. With those goals in mind she heads inside, one hand holding her gun kit, while the other seemingly lurked in her jacket's pocket. The custom tailored pocket granted her access to her holstered revolver if she needed it. She was tired, hungry and a bit annoyed from her encounter by the bridge.<br/><br/>The bath would come after she was sure her gun was repaired, she promised herself as she headed inside without another word.