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 Flabby Physique,
Soft Skin,
and Oily
Hair. Your Face is
Chiseled, your
Speech Formal. You have
Elegant Clothing. You are
Honorable and
Lazy.
Your age: 48.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 0
STR: 13
DEX: 17
WIL: 9
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Incense
Bracelet (petty)
Gold: 13
🙛 Bonds
Bracelet: You promised a childhood friend that you’d bring them back a rare gift, something unique in all the world. Take a Bracelet (petty) woven from twine and wildflowers.
🙛 Omens
The once rich waters of a life-giving river have turned black and putrid, tainting the land and sickening those who drink from it. A village elder points to some recent desecration as the cause, but most do not heed their words.
🙛 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?
Incense. Perfect for rituals or to keep the flies at bay. Cools the blood.