Wits are your sharpest weapon, a facade your strongest shield. But when you do lose, you lose badly.
You have a Rugged Physique,
Tattooed Skin,
and Wavy
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Cryptic. You have
Foreign Clothing. You are
Cautious and
Rude.
Your age: 48.
Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 0
STR: 11
DEX: 9
WIL: 16
Equipment (5)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Trick Playing Cards
Fancy Hat (petty)
Cane Sword (d6)
Knife (d6, petty)
Cursed Sapphire
Letter (petty)
Gold: 7
Special
Cart (4
slots)
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
Swarms of insects are fleeing from the Wood in droves, destroying any wooden structures they come across. The sound of their wings hum a familiar tune as they pass overhead, like a forgotten nursery rhyme.
Your Past
How was your fraud exposed?
You were a peddler of fake prophesies, but when one turned out to be true, it drew unwanted attention. Roll on the Omens table, but keep the result to yourself. Start with a concealable Knife (d6, petty).
What keepsake could always identify you?
Cursed Sapphire: Worth 200gp, it noticeably returns to your pocket shortly after you spend it. You can't seem to get rid of it.