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 Stout Physique, Weathered Skin, and Oily Hair. Your Face is Sunken, your Speech Booming. You have Rancid Clothing. You are Honorable and Lazy.
Your age: 17.
Attributes
HP: 3
Armor: 0
STR: 9
DEX: 9
WIL: 10
Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Spellbook (Detect Magic)
Incense
Silver Moss (petty)
Gold: 12
Bonds
Silver Moss: You once freed a Naiad from a choked stream. In return, it gave you some Silver Moss (petty). Swallow it near water and the creature will come, once, to repay its debt.
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?
The Detect Magic spellbook, stolen from an ancient library. Your family worked in service to an obscure underworld deity, but you lost your faith. Though exiled, you continue to serve, even as an apostate.
What tool was invaluable in your work?
Incense. Perfect for rituals or to keep the flies at bay. Cools the blood.