You are a shepherd to the departed. You listen to the final whispers of the dead as they descend into the cold, unyielding earth. You know that to fully celebrate the gift of life, we must honor its finale as well.
You have a Towering Physique,
Weathered Skin,
and Oily
Hair. Your Face is
Sharp, your
Speech Booming. You have
Filthy Clothing. You are
Ambitious and
Deceitful.
Your age: 38.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 8
DEX: 5
WIL: 3
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Sponge
Blood-Red Flower (petty)
Gold: 4
🙛 Bonds
Blood-Red Flower: The Dawn Brigade did your family a service, giving you a dried Blood-Red Flower (petty) as proof. When the flower turns white, it means the favor is owed.
🙛 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 did you take from the dead?
A mortal wound from a freed revenant. You were healed, but the disfigurement has made you a pariah. You require neither air nor sustenance but are still subject to pain and death. Trapped between worlds, the dead see you as one of their own.
What tool was invaluable in your work?
Sponge. Supposedly made from the remains of a rare sea creature. It never seems to dry out.