You strike from afar, but that does not make you a coward. You are a musician, the song of your bowstring nought but a warning, singing the silent promise of a quick death.
You have a Lanky Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Frizzy
Hair. Your Face is
Perfect, your
Speech Cryptic. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Merciful and
Vain.
Your age: 19.
π Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 1
STR: 3
DEX: 12
WIL: 8
π Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Serrated Knife (d6)
Boiled Leather (1 Armor)
Heartroot Salve (1 uses)
Western Yew (d6, bulky)
Journal
Gold: 4
π Bonds
Journal: You inherited an old Journal, bound in bark. Each evening, its pages are filled with the events of the day, crassly from the journalβs perspective. The writing is crude, but accurate.
π Omens
Swarms of insects are fleeing from the Wood in droves, destroying any wooden structures they come across. The sound of their wings hum a familiar tune as they pass overhead, like a forgotten nursery rhyme.
π Your Past
How did you earn your bow?
Scouting. When taking the Travel action, your presence decreases the chance of getting lost by one step (e.g. 4-in-6 becomes 3-in-6).
What kind of wood is your bow made from?
Western Yew (d6, bulky). Can be wielded as a blunt weapon (d6). Noisy.