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 Lanky Physique,
Rosy Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Cryptic. You have
Soiled Clothing. You are
Cautious and
Rude.
Your age: 34.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 1
STR: 4
DEX: 15
WIL: 11
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Serrated Knife (d6)
Boiled Leather (1 Armor)
Heartroot Salve (1 uses)
Striped Bamboo (d6)
Blood-Red Flower (petty)
Gold: 3
🙛 Bonds
Blood-Red Flower: The Dawn Brigade did your family a service, giving you a dried Blood-Red Flower (petty) as proof. When the flower turns white, it means the favor is owed.
🙛 Omens
The moon turns a deep crimson, bathing the night in an eerie, blood-red light. Some say it heralds a time of chaos and strife, as the boundaries between the Wood and the mortal realm grow thin.
🙛 Your Past
How did you earn your bow?
Training. If you are the first to attack, melee attacks against you are impaired until you take STR damage.
What kind of wood is your bow made from?
Striped Bamboo (d6). Collapsible, it only requires one slot (but still requires both hands).