Mearra Wilderman

Caspian gun mage


Mearra Wilderman is a beautiful young Caspian woman, with their typical straw-coloured hair and sparkling green eyes. She carries herself with airs of nobility, her hands never far from her family’s twin heirloom pistols in their belt holsters.

Mearra is dressed in a tight black leather breeches and knee high jet black leather heel boots. She wear a pale lavender silk shirt and a black leather vest above it. She wears a dark silk scarf.

Mearra walks with a kind of swagger that attract the eye, she is well aware the effect she has on men and women and uses her tight breeches to amplify the effect. When she is pleased in life, which is rare in this hell frozen country, she shows a small, witty, inviting smile that gives her an exotic appearance.

Connections: The Corvis Expedition


“Some would say I was blessed from birth having been born to a life of relative luxury where I had servants to see to my every whim and guards to fight in my stead. I spent entire days in the warm familiarity of my own chambers with personal tutors who patiently lectured throughout my many outbursts, tantrums some would say, and ensured that I got a solid education.

When I was not furthering my studies, I amused myself with games, music, theater and encouraging the attention of suitors at my mother’s behest for I was to marry well you see, to further to families holding by sacrificing my life to be the lapdog of some stranger. To that end, I would often attend elegant balls dressed all in silk, hair stylishly coiffed and well manicured nails. My nails are short and ragged now, a testament to the way of the gun.

I often spent time in my parents court watching them preside over the petty disputes, pass judgment on crimes and matters of the law and pass edicts govern their holdings. It was dreadfully boring and trite but they were things I would have to do with my own husband when I got married… ugh.

But it was all made bearable by the fact that I did not feel blessed; I felt as though my presence was a blessing to those around me. Now that I think about it; my parents and their subjects encouraged that belief. My mother, for one, would always harp on my beauty. For as long as I can remember she praised my natural good looks and told me how lucky they were to have such a beautiful daughter. To her, I was light and salvation of the family, with a daughter as beautiful as I; they were sure to further themselves but allying to a more powerful house through marriage. Yes I felt special, as I imagined a prize sow would feel special if she knew they were fattening her up for the banquet.

For me, choosing the adventurers life was easy. I considered the alternative; the easy lifestyle of parties, banquets and balls. The rich husband, the servants, the guards, the power that came with it all. But there was one thing that life lacked. One thing that was paramount to my existence.


I played the role of the aristocratic dilettante with perfection for that was what was expected of me. You must understand that I do love my family, so I yearned to please them. They too are paramount to my existence. But I could not do what they asked. I’ve known that for a very long time, ever since I first held Papa’s heirloom pistols; the pistols spoke to me when I touch them,
not in words, not in thoughts or even feelings. They spoke to me in a way nothing has ever touched me before. I knew they belonged to me from the first moment, I knew that when I held them I was something more, something truly special. Instinctively I knew that I could do things I could not do without them in my hands. It sacred me at first and I quickly handed them back to him with a look of distaste. How easy it was for them to assume I have a Lady’s
aversion to weapons.

Secretly I spent time with them; I got to know them, learned from them so to speak. Slowly I awakened the power in them, or they awakened a power in me and before I knew it, I felt magic surge through me and through the pistol manifesting in a sputtering of sparks. Yet that was enough; from that moment on I studied the creation and caring of firearms, as well as their proper and accurate use.

As my talent developed, I began to despair. My mother was becoming a pain and my father was always hinting at settling me down with a husband whenever I displeased him, which was often. But my secret talent, and it was a secret, would not be encouraged by any husband I could imagine. Witchcraft and sorcery were not things that endeared one to any sane man. As the years flew by I
manage to rebuff suitor after suitor always claiming to be aiming higher, always pushing my ambitions. This delighted my parents and they had confidence in my beauty, charm and intelligence. But I knew time was running out.

Finally when I could stand it no more I told my mother I wanted to enlist in the royal guard. She was appalled at first but slowly I convinced her by weaving a tale of intrigue. I told her that I would use my skill with the pistol to gain entry to guard. Then I would use my charm to gain access, even mere sight of royalty. Surely my beauty would draw attention. Surely I would
look good in a uniform, heirloom pistols hanging by my curvaceous hips….

what man could resist me?

She was eager to execute the plan and quickly convinced my father. It broke my heart to deceive them but they left me little choice. I am not worried though; they wanted me to marry well to put gold into the coffers, plain and simple. Well I will show them that I don’t need a man to do that. I don’t need to marry well to save them. In fact I won’t get married at all.

I will build their wealth, my wealth, with these two hands.

Mearra Wilderman

Iron Kingdoms: Flight from the North Whimper