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 Rugged Physique,
Rosy Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Sharp, your
Speech Squeaky. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Serene and
Deceitful.
Your age: 49.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 1
STR: 4
DEX: 15
WIL: 10
🙛 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)
Regrowth Salve (1 uses)
Single Gem
Gold: 11
🙛 Bonds
Single Gem: You inherited a Single Gem (500gp, cold and brittle) from a long-dead relative. It arrived with a warning: squander your newfound riches, and a debt long thought forgotten would be called.
🙛 Omens
An ancient tree at the heart of a sleepy village has suddenly withered and died, despite showing no signs of disease. After its trunk was cut, a bloody hand was found in its core.
🙛 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?
Regrowth Salve: Regrows a body part over the course of a day. 1 use.