You are an artisan of the arcane, a smith of subtle forces. In the crucible of your workshop, the laws that govern this world are warped to suit your needs.
You have a Athletic Physique,
Birthmarked Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Square, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Frumpy Clothing. You are
Gregarious and
Bitter.
Your age: 12.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 5
DEX: 12
WIL: 9
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Universal Solvent (2 uses)
Blast Sphere (d12, blast, bulky, 1 uses)
Mischievous Spirit
Gold: 7
🙛 Bonds
Mischievous Spirit: You consumed a Mischievous Spirit that wreaks havoc on your insides, demanding to be taken home, deep in the Wood. It occupies one slot but absorbs one Fatigue each day. It wants you alive (for now).
🙛 Omens
Strange, tear-shaped stones have been found throughout the region, sparking a 'gold rush' of sorts for jewelers and thieves alike. The locals believe they are the tears of the earth itself, weeping for a great tragedy yet to come.
🙛 Your Past
What went horribly wrong?
Ridiculed for discovering how to turn gold into lead, you were a laughing stock. Take a bottle of Universal Solvent that dissolves anything it touches into its constituent parts.
What alchemical marvel is the product of your latest ingenuity?
Blast Sphere: A head-sized iron ball filled with explosive powder that detonates on impact.