You are a mere digit on the unerring hand of justice. You go where others fear to tread, unyielding and unbroken.
You have a Flabby Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Wispy
Hair. Your Face is
Broken, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Serene and
Nervous.
Your age: 15.
π Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 0
STR: 4
DEX: 9
WIL: 10
π Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Vestments of the Order (petty)
Blessed Tinctures
Silver Knife (d6)
Crossbow (d8, bulky)
Pocket Leyfinder
Whistle (petty)
Gold: 14
π Bonds
Whistle: You carved a Whistle (petty) from an Oak Lordβs branch. Your act did not go unnoticed. You cannot seem to rid yourself of the whistle either.
π 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.
π Your Past
To which order do you belong?
Order of the Crossroads. Take a Pocket Leyfinder. It points to nearby ley lines and other sources of arcane power. If you lose it, the punishment is death.
What was your vow?
Honesty. Choose a weapon type (blunt, blade, etc). Attacks against you of this type are impaired. If your vow is broken, you lose d4 WIL.