You are known by the smell of molten metal and the jingle of tin. You are no mere merchant but an artisan of fire and metal.
You have a Statuesque Physique,
Weathered Skin,
and Braided
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Whispery. You have
Filthy Clothing. You are
Honorable and
Vain.
Your age: 34.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 9
DEX: 12
WIL: 5
🙛 Equipment (10)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Crossbow (d8, bulky)
Saw (d6)
Carrion Cat (bulky)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 15
🙛 Special
Donkey (4
slots)
🙛 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
A thick, unnatural fog has begun encroaching upon an ancient and holy grove. It is said to be the work of a great forest spirit, angered by nearby deforestation.
🙛 Your Past
What is your trade?
You scavenge raw tin and iron from battlefields, pulling teeth from still-twitching corpses. Start with a young Donkey (+4 slots, slow), a Crossbow (d8 damage, bulky), and a Saw (d6).
What never fails to get you out of trouble?
A clever pet, small enough to hide in your pack (bulky), but strong enough to scare off smaller predators. Requires one Ration a day, and it must be meat.