Fantasy NPC: Livya Arna, Failed Golddigger

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Livya Arna, Failed Golddigger

A short and curvy maid in a torn ball gown, unhealthily grayish, and seemingly blurring at the edges.

CR 3; 800 XP

Female human ghost commoner 3

NE Medium Undead (incorporeal)

Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +8

Defense
AC 15, touch 15, flat-footed 13 (+3 deflection, +2 Dex)

hp 25 (3d8+12)
Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +1

Defensive Abilities channel resistance +4, incorporeal, rejuvenation; Immune undead traits

Offense
Speed fly 30 ft. (perfect)

Melee corrupting touch +3 (3d6 plus fatigue, Fort. DC 14 partial)

Statistics
Str —, Dex 14, Con —, Int 12, Wis 11, Cha 17

Base Atk +1; CMB +1; CMD 16
Feats Iron Will, Skill Focus (Perform [dance]), Toughness

Skills Fly +16, Knowledge (local) +4, Perception +8, Perform (dance) +8, Profession (milkmaid) +6, Stealth +10

Language Common

Corrupting Touch (Su) Those who fail their Fortitude saving throws against Livya's corrupting touch become fatigued for 1d4+1 rounds in addition to suffering full damage, feeling as if they were running (or dancing) for hours. Her corrupting touch counts as silver against creatures particularly susceptible to its effects and any werebeasts that are negatively affected by silver that fail their saving throw are sickened with burning pain as if silver was stuck in their wounds until they wounds are cleaned, healed, or regenerated.

Rejuvenation (Su) Livya Arna reforms near the largest concentration of the silver coins she was counting when she died, or by one of the coins at random, if they are split evenly.

Livya Arna never intended to live her whole life as a simple peasant. She dreamed bigger—in her own mind at least—than her family and neighbors, hoping to find a way out of the village where she lived, and into wealth and comfortable life.

The new squire arrived and took over nearby manor and over time, gossip started circulating regarding his quirky behavior, but she didn't mind them. When he finally invited her, after a number of other young women from nearby villages, she though her moment has come.

To her disappointment, Honorable Balzaine showed little interest in her, losing himself in dance itself. Her best attempts at flirting with him seemed to fail to move him at all. Finally, she snapped, and shouted wild accusations against him. He froze for a moment, and coldly ordered her to leave, never to return, handing her a purse of silver.

Angry, indignant, and embarrassed by blatant disregard for her (much overestimated) charms, she went into the night. On her way home, she started to count the coins she received, coins she assumed were bribe to keep her accusations to herself. While far from being a hoard, they were still far more than she had to her name. Not enough to start a new life, but still something. She veered through the forested wetlands, not wanting to show herself in her home village in the middle of night to avoid hurting her vanity by anyone getting even a hint of her being unceremoniously sent away. When she stopped to count her coins again, something leaped on her. The last thing she saw was a shape of a wolf, flash of red eyes, and snapping fangs.

And then there was the mist, and she was wandering through the forest again, trying to find the lost silver coins and avoid the wolf. Over and over again.

In her mind, it was clearly the fault of the Pale Squire, he must have sent wolf after her, or maybe he was the wolf. She wasn't sure. She wants revenge, and she wants compensation—and not merely silver this time. She wants her deserved share of riches and comforts.