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 Flabby Physique,
Soft Skin,
and Wavy
Hair. Your Face is
Elongated, your
Speech Whispery. You have
Antique Clothing. You are
Humble and
Aggressive.
Your age: 39.
π Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 0
STR: 5
DEX: 14
WIL: 17
π Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Regrowth Salve (1 uses)
Journal
Gold: 12
π Bonds
Journal: You inherited an old Journal, bound in bark. Each evening, its pages are filled with the events of the day, crassly from the journalβs perspective. The writing is crude, but accurate.
π Omens
Local livestock have grown increasingly agitated and unmanageable as of late. An old shephard says it is due to an unsettling howl that emanates from the Wood each full moon.
π 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?
Regrowth Salve: Regrows a body part over the course of a day. 1 use.