You are a mere digit on the unerring hand of justice. You go where others fear to tread, unyielding and unbroken.
You have a Flabby Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Oily
Hair. Your Face is
Square, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Livery Clothing. You are
Serene and
Deceitful.
Your age: 18.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 2
STR: 3
DEX: 15
WIL: 13
🙛 Equipment (9)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Vestments of the Order (petty)
Blessed Tinctures
Silver Knife (d6)
Crossbow (d8, bulky)
Short sword (d8)
Chainmail (2 Armor, bulky)
Twig (petty)
Gold: 11
🙛 Bonds
Twig: A white crow appeared to you in a dream, holding a twig in its mouth. You awoke the next morning with The Twig (petty) in your hand. You believe it brings you luck. It smells faintly of sulfur.
🙛 Omens
It feels like winter has arrived too quickly this year, frost and snows making their appearance much earlier than expected. There is talk of a pattern to the frost found in windows, ponds, and cracks in the ground. It almost looks like a map.
🙛 Your Past
To which order do you belong?
Order of the Glass Sigil. Take a short sword (d8) and chainmail (2 Armor, bulky). You have contacts in most towns (the more rural, the better) willing to provide aid, food, or even weapons.
What was your vow?
Valor. The first time you inflict Critical Damage, you receive +d4 HP, returning to the previous limit at the end of combat. If your vow is broken, you die.