You walk the line between healer and harrower, knowing the frailty of the flesh but also the secrets that lie within. With the right tools, life and death are merely words.
You have a Lanky Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Wispy
Hair. Your Face is
Sunken, your
Speech Precise. You have
Elegant Clothing. You are
Serene and
Aggressive.
Your age: 31.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 1
STR: 9
DEX: 4
WIL: 14
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Alchemical Sigils (petty, +1 Armor)
Lodestone
Mischievous Spirit
Gold: 16
🙛 Bonds
Mischievous Spirit: You consumed a Mischievous Spirit that wreaks havoc on your insides, demanding to be taken home, deep in the Wood. It occupies one slot but absorbs one Fatigue each day. It wants you alive (for now).
🙛 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.
🙛 Your Past
How have you 'improved' yourself?
Your chest is lined with alchemical sigils, toughening the skin (Armor 1). Wearing other metallic armor nullifies the effect.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Lodestone: Draws out dangerous elements from the body and acts as a powerful magnetic force.