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 Athletic Physique,
Birthmarked Skin,
and Long
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Frumpy Clothing. You are
Honorable and
Nervous.
Your age: 25.
Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 5
DEX: 16
WIL: 6
Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Oil Can (6 uses)
Graftgrub (1 uses)
Miniature Lute
Gold: 8
Bonds
Miniature Lute: An entertainer once visited your home, filling it with story and song. He left one day without a word, leaving behind only A Miniature Lute. Something rattles inside.
Omens
There is a village known far and wide for its impressive 'mother tree', said to shelter the town’s secrets in its boughs. Recently, it has begun bleeding red sap, worrying the elders.
Your Past
How have you 'improved' yourself?
One foot is mostly metal (kick, d6), and you treat some tough terrain as Easy. Carry an Oil Can (6 uses). Without a daily application, you are deprived and noisy.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Graftgrub: A small worm that can fuse inanimate objects with parts of the body. 1 use.