You are an artisan of the arcane, a smith of subtle forces. In the crucible of your workshop, the laws that govern this world are warped to suit your needs.
You have a Flabby Physique,
Tanned Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Chiseled, your
Speech Cryptic. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Gregarious and
Bitter.
Your age: 47.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 18
DEX: 8
WIL: 12
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Universal Solvent (2 uses)
Homunculus
Locket (petty)
Gold: 11
🙛 Bonds
Locket: You carry a Portrait in a locket (petty) of a past love who disappeared into the Wood long ago. Somehow, you know that they are still alive.
🙛 Omens
Local livestock have grown increasingly agitated and unmanageable as of late. An old shephard says it is due to an unsettling howl that emanates from the Wood each full moon.
🙛 Your Past
What went horribly wrong?
Ridiculed for discovering how to turn gold into lead, you were a laughing stock. Take a bottle of Universal Solvent that dissolves anything it touches into its constituent parts.
What alchemical marvel is the product of your latest ingenuity?
Homunculus: A miniature clay replica of yourself that follows your every command. It hates being enthralled to you and complains bitterly whenever possible. Any damage done to the homunculus is also done to you. 3 HP, 4 STR, 13 DEX, 5 WIL.