You are a shepherd to the departed. You listen to the final whispers of the dead as they descend into the cold, unyielding earth. You know that to fully celebrate the gift of life, we must honor its finale as well.
You have a Scrawny Physique,
Webbed Skin,
and Luxurious
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Precise. You have
Filthy Clothing. You are
Humble and
Aggressive.
Your age: 25.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 9
DEX: 5
WIL: 4
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Plague Doctor's Mask
Manacles
Letter (petty)
Gold: 18
🙛 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 did you take from the dead?
A plague doctor's mask, after its owner succumbed to the disease that wiped out everyone you once knew. They should have kept it on.
What tool was invaluable in your work?
Manacles. Though old, it's still effective even against the very strong. You don't have the key.