You are a specter in the night, a fleeting shadow that slips by its prey, unseen. Each kill is a test of cunning and animal determination, a contest between life and death. You know that one day you will lose. You look forward to it.
You have a Rugged Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Oily
Hair. Your Face is
Broken, your
Speech Droning. You have
Frumpy Clothing. You are
Tolerant and
Lazy.
Your age: 45.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 1
STR: 3
DEX: 12
WIL: 13
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Tarp
Boiled Leather (1 Armor)
Short Sword (d6)
Spring-Loaded Trap
Alchemical Limb (d8, petty)
Oil Can (6 uses)
Iron Rattle
Locket (petty)
Gold: 5
🙛 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.
🙛 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.
🙛 Your Past
What did you last hunt?
A mock firefly, baiting water carriers with its glowing lure. Take an Alchemical Limb (d8, petty when worn) to replace the one it tore off and an Oil Can (6 uses). The limb is immune to heat and poison. Needs to be oiled daily.
What tool is always in your pack?
Iron Rattle: A noisemaker for distracting or scaring your quarry. Sounds convincingly like a snake.