You are a mere digit on the unerring hand of justice. You go where others fear to tread, unyielding and unbroken.
You have a Rugged Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Wispy
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Droning. You have
Filthy Clothing. You are
Cautious and
Rude.
Your age: 13.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 2
STR: 6
DEX: 18
WIL: 6
🙛 Equipment (9)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Vestments of the Order (petty)
Blessed Tinctures
Silver Knife (d6)
Crossbow (d8, bulky)
Short sword (d8)
Chainmail (2 Armor, bulky)
Twig (petty)
Gold: 6
🙛 Bonds
Twig: A white crow appeared to you in a dream, holding a twig in its mouth. You awoke the next morning with The Twig (petty) in your hand. You believe it brings you luck. It smells faintly of sulfur.
🙛 Omens
The night sky grows dimmer each evening, as if stars are disappearing one by one. Rumors of hellish creatures capturing farmers and pulling them into the Roots are spreading like wildfire. Village elders believe the two are connected.
🙛 Your Past
To which order do you belong?
Order of the Glass Sigil. Take a short sword (d8) and chainmail (2 Armor, bulky). You have contacts in most towns (the more rural, the better) willing to provide aid, food, or even weapons.
What was your vow?
Valor. The first time you inflict Critical Damage, you receive +d4 HP, returning to the previous limit at the end of combat. If your vow is broken, you die.