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 Stout Physique,
Soft Skin,
and Luxurious
Hair. Your Face is
Broken, your
Speech Formal. You have
Rancid Clothing. You are
Humble and
Greedy.
Your age: 37.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 4
DEX: 13
WIL: 3
🙛 Equipment (9)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Crossbow (d8, bulky)
Saw (d6)
Fireworks (2 uses)
Blood-Red Flower (petty)
Gold: 15
🙛 Special
Donkey (4
slots)
🙛 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
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?
Fireworks: A dazzling albeit dangerous display. Enough explosive material to blow off a finger or three. 2 uses remain.