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,
Oily Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Squeaky. You have
Frumpy Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Lazy.
Your age: 34.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 3
Armor: 0
STR: 15
DEX: 4
WIL: 5
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Pulley
Rolled-Up Map (petty)
Gold: 8
🙛 Special
Burial Wagon (6
slots)
Donkey (4
slots)
🙛 Bonds
Rolled-Up Map: A roaming storyteller once spun you tales of great treasure hidden deep in the Wood. You thought it naught but fancy, till they gave you A Rolled-Up Map (petty) marked with an X.
🙛 Omens
Statues have been weeping blood for months on end, and the wombs of the village have lain barren since they began to fall. A single child has been the only exception, taken by elders overcome with fear and dread.
🙛 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?
Pulley. Great for moving gravestones, rocks, or even bodies.