<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 4</em><br/><strong>Character Sheet</strong>(http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=8678)<strong>HP</strong>:34 (Current: 34)<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:+7   Saves: F:+4 W:+7 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>: +8; 1d8, 20/x4 Range: 20 Ammo: 6</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Revolver</strong>: +8; 1d8, 20/x4 Range: 20 Ammo: 6 (Silver Ammo)</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Pistol</strong>: +7; 1d8, 20/x4 Range: 20 Ammo: 1</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Longsword</strong>, MW: +5; 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/>Valerianna sniffed loudly as her onyx eyes met the Sheriff's gaze.  She slowly pulled a pistol from the depths of her cloak and set it on the table carefully, her hand is close but not too close to it.<br/><br/><strong>"One, your man Vlahd there is the one that took the lycan's head. If you don't believe that, feel free to call a priest and put me under a truth spell. I suspect, thought, that your cologne tells a different story than your words. You wouldn't be putting wolfsbane in your eau de toilette if you weren't worried about the moon struck around here." </strong>She shifts enough to show the shot silver round and were's tooth pendant she was wearing now.<strong>"We fought a handful of wolves, and a single lycan, though I suspect it's mate is in the woods and very unhappy with us. Believe it or not, I don't care. I would suggest you look the coach over, given that the lycan clawed it up in the fight with me and the inquisitor. I'm surprised his holiness didn't mention that in fact.</strong><br/><br/>Her attitude was bland and calm, though there was the air of tension like a coiled spring waiting to be sprung. An air of impending mayhem hung in the air between the teifling and the Sheriff. Her gaze gave an unspoken comment that she wasn't going to quietly go along with a railroading.<br/><br/><strong>"I wish no part of your feud with this.. Grayson. I am here to handle my affairs, and perhaps sell a few weapons.  I suspect there will be a need for these soon."</strong>She held up a single metal cartridge. A silver round.<strong>"I promise you.. they don't like these at all."</strong>