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 Towering Physique, Marked Skin, and Wispy Hair. Your Face is Chiseled, your Speech Squeaky. You have Frumpy Clothing. You are Tolerant and Greedy.
Your age: 32.
Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 1
STR: 18
DEX: 14
WIL: 13
Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Alchemical Sigils (petty, +1 Armor)
Pneuma Pump (bulky)
Silver Moss (petty)
Gold: 11
Bonds
Silver Moss: You once freed a Naiad from a choked stream. In return, it gave you some Silver Moss (petty). Swallow it near water and the creature will come, once, to repay its debt.
Omens
The moon turns a deep crimson, bathing the night in an eerie, blood-red light. Some say it heralds a time of chaos and strife, as the boundaries between the Wood and the mortal realm grow thin.
Your Past
How have you 'improved' yourself?
Your chest is lined with alchemical sigils, toughening the skin (Armor 1). Wearing other metallic armor nullifies the effect.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Pneuma Pump: Portable iron lungs (bulky). Enables life-saving surgery or underwater breathing.