You are an artisan of the arcane, a smith of subtle forces. In the crucible of your workshop, the laws that govern this world are warped to suit your needs.
You have a Athletic Physique,
Birthmarked Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Square, your
Speech Booming. You have
Filthy Clothing. You are
Cautious and
Vengeful.
Your age: 49.
π Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 15
DEX: 18
WIL: 3
π Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Metal Ingot
Gold Powder (3 uses)
Mimic Stone
Whistle (petty)
Gold: 9
π Bonds
Whistle: You carved a Whistle (petty) from an Oak Lordβs branch. Your act did not go unnoticed. You cannot seem to rid yourself of the whistle either.
π Omens
Strange cracks have appeared in the night sky, revealing a swirling vortex of light and color. Some say that the divide between realms is at its weakest in centuries, and fear what may emerge from the other side.
π Your Past
What went horribly wrong?
You were adept at creating fake gold, which is almost as good. Eventually, your ruse was discovered, and you had to make a hasty retreat. Take a heavy Metal Ingot and Gold Powder.
What alchemical marvel is the product of your latest ingenuity?
Mimic Stone: Records a short phrase that can later be played back.