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 Brawny Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Soiled Clothing. You are
Honorable and
Bitter.
Your age: 49.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 4
DEX: 13
WIL: 18
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Blood Pail (bulky)
Repellent (3 uses)
Gold: 10
🙛 Bonds
One of your ancestors wronged a Moss Witch, who cursed their bloodline. Your visage causes mirrors to shatter. You’ve noticed that the shards can sometimes reveal illusions.
🙛 Omens
Swarming pests gnaw away at the edges of dreams, and farmers speak of a loud buzzing sound emanating from deep within the Wood. They also say that the sound is getting closer.
🙛 Your Past
What did you take from the dead?
A Blood Pail (bulky) from a local death-cult. Empty it to raise a servant built from whatever is buried below, with 6 HP, 1 Armor, 13 STR, 11 DEX, 4 WIL, and shard fists (d8+d8). Only one servant can be raised at a time. If destroyed, you permanently lose 1d4 STR. Recharge: Fill with the blood of a dying warrior.
What tool was invaluable in your work?
Repellent. Powerful stuff. Its faded label makes it unclear what it is actually meant to repel, though. Perhaps everything. 3 uses.