You are known by the smell of molten metal and the jingle of tin. You are no mere merchant but an artisan of fire and metal.
You have a Statuesque Physique,
Webbed Skin,
and Oily
Hair. Your Face is
Broken, your
Speech Cryptic. You have
Rancid Clothing. You are
Humble and
Rude.
Your age: 50.
π Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 1
STR: 9
DEX: 8
WIL: 15
π Equipment (10)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Long Sword (d10, bulky)
Gambeson (+1 Armor)
Carrion Cat (bulky)
Whistle (petty)
Gold: 6
π Bonds
Whistle: You carved a Whistle (petty) from an Oak Lordβs branch. Your act did not go unnoticed. You cannot seem to rid yourself of the whistle either.
π Omens
Local livestock have grown increasingly agitated and unmanageable as of late. An old shephard says it is due to an unsettling howl that emanates from the Wood each full moon.
π Your Past
What is your trade?
You offer protection as a service, quietly watching for threats as money exchanges hands. You start with +d4 HP, and carry a Long Sword (d10, bulky) and a Gambeson (+1 Armor).
What never fails to get you out of trouble?
A clever pet, small enough to hide in your pack (bulky), but strong enough to scare off smaller predators. Requires one Ration a day, and it must be meat.