You are known by the smell of molten metal and the jingle of tin. You are no mere merchant but an artisan of fire and metal.
You have a Towering Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Booming. You have
Antique Clothing. You are
Merciful and
Deceitful.
Your age: 25.
Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 5
DEX: 18
WIL: 16
Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Fireworks (2 uses)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 16
Bonds
Letter: During your travels, you met a dying hunter who asked you to deliver a message to their loved ones. Take a Letter (petty), sealed with tree sap. It is addressed only to the Lord Of Winter.
Omens
Statues have been weeping blood for months on end, and the wombs of the village have lain barren since they began to fall. A single child has been the only exception, taken by elders overcome with fear and dread.
Your Past
What is your trade?
You deal in home goods and tools, hawking your wares to townspeople across the lands. Take 20gp worth of items from the gear table. You are fluent in the Traveler's Cant.
What never fails to get you out of trouble?
Fireworks: A dazzling albeit dangerous display. Enough explosive material to blow off a finger or three. 2 uses remain.