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 Statuesque Physique, Tanned Skin, and Braided Hair. Your Face is Elongated, your Speech Gravelly. You have Filthy Clothing. You are Ambitious and Lazy.
Your age: 35.
Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 0
STR: 18
DEX: 17
WIL: 10
Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Woundwax (2 uses)
Ornate Compass
Gold: 27
Bonds
Ornate Compass: A distant cousin left you a small inheritance. Take 20gp, and a strange Compass that always points towards something deep in the Wood.
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
How have you 'improved' yourself?
One arm is fully metal and comes off at the shoulder. It can be used as a weapon (d8, bulky when not attached) and can move independently if you are within sight of it.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Woundwax: Heals wounds from fire or chemicals (restoring full STR) but nothing else. 2 uses.