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 Scrawny Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Luxurious
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Booming. You have
Rancid Clothing. You are
Honorable and
Vain.
Your age: 38.
๐ Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 0
STR: 7
DEX: 4
WIL: 12
๐ Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Tinker's Paste (3 uses)
Locket (petty)
Gold: 7
๐ Bonds
Locket: You carry a Portrait in a locket (petty) of a past love who disappeared into the Wood long ago. Somehow, you know that they are still alive.
๐ 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.
๐ Your Past
What is your trade?
You build small contraptions for local guilds (and don't ask too many questions). Take an extra 40gp and a wanted poster with your face on it. Given time and materials, you can open almost any door or vault.
What never fails to get you out of trouble?
Tinker's Paste: Seals shut any fist-sized opening. 3 uses.