You strike from afar, but that does not make you a coward. You are a musician, the song of your bowstring nought but a warning, singing the silent promise of a quick death.
You have a Short Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Long
Hair. Your Face is
Square, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Livery Clothing. You are
Tolerant and
Vain.
Your age: 19.
Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 1
STR: 16
DEX: 6
WIL: 7
Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Serrated Knife (d6)
Boiled Leather (1 Armor)
Heartroot Salve (1 uses)
Wych Elm (d6, bulky)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 16
Bonds
Letter: During your travels, you met a dying hunter who asked you to deliver a message to their loved ones. Take a Letter (petty), sealed with tree sap. It is addressed only to the Lord Of Winter.
Omens
Border towns have become riotous in recent weeks, after multiple claims of a red-robed figure appearing in their children's dreams, uttering the same warning: A fire is coming, and it will consume them all.
Your Past
How did you earn your bow?
War. If you are first to attack, your bow gains the blast property for the first round.
What kind of wood is your bow made from?
Wych Elm (d6, bulky). Protects the bearer from poisons and toxins, so long as they are holding it.