You walk the line between healer and harrower, knowing the frailty of the flesh but also the secrets that lie within. With the right tools, life and death are merely words.
You have a Lanky Physique,
Rosy Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Frumpy Clothing. You are
Humble and
Deceitful.
Your age: 31.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 0
STR: 5
DEX: 5
WIL: 17
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Hook & Screwdriver (petty)
Pneuma Pump (bulky)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 6
🙛 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
Hunters talk of a curse that befalls any who kill a beast with a streak of white fur: soon after, they are found dead in their homes. Each day, there are fewer and fewer creatures to hunt.
🙛 Your Past
How have you 'improved' yourself?
One of your fingers has been swapped, the bone replaced by gold and iron. Take a Hook and a Screwdriver that can attach to the fingertip.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Pneuma Pump: Portable iron lungs (bulky). Enables life-saving surgery or underwater breathing.