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 Athletic Physique,
Weathered Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Chiseled, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Humble and
Vain.
Your age: 43.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 3
DEX: 10
WIL: 14
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Woundwax (2 uses)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 17
🙛 Bonds
Letter: You received a Letter (petty) detailing incontrovertible proof that your true parentage is that of Fae nobility. The note also indicates a date and location where you are to meet them, deep in the the Wood.
🙛 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
How have you 'improved' yourself?
You have a replacement eye that can magnify objects, act as a telescope, and provide minimal night vision. You cannot wear anything metal on your head, and the presence of strong magnets make you deprived.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Woundwax: Heals wounds from fire or chemicals (restoring full STR) but nothing else. 2 uses.