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 Flabby Physique,
Webbed Skin,
and Frizzy
Hair. Your Face is
Pale, your
Speech Droning. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Serene and
Nervous.
Your age: 43.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 3
Armor: 0
STR: 10
DEX: 15
WIL: 8
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Manacles
Ornate Compass
Gold: 27
🙛 Special
Burial Wagon (6
slots)
Donkey (4
slots)
🙛 Bonds
Ornate Compass: A distant cousin left you a small inheritance. Take 20gp, and a strange Compass that always points towards something deep in the Wood.
🙛 Omens
Strange cracks have appeared in the night sky, revealing a swirling vortex of light and color. Some say that the divide between realms is at its weakest in centuries, and fear what may emerge from the other side.
🙛 Your Past
What did you take from the dead?
A burial wagon (+6 slots, slow) from your last job. It came with a stubborn old donkey (+4 slots, only +2 slots if pulling wagon).
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.