You strike from afar, but that does not make you a coward. You are a musician, the song of your bowstring nought but a warning, singing the silent promise of a quick death.
You have a Brawny Physique,
Soft Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Pale, your
Speech Blunt. You have
Foreign Clothing. You are
Humble and
Greedy.
Your age: 47.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 1
STR: 15
DEX: 8
WIL: 13
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Serrated Knife (d6)
Boiled Leather (1 Armor)
Heartroot Salve (1 uses)
Western Yew (d6, bulky)
Mischievous Spirit
Gold: 15
🙛 Bonds
Mischievous Spirit: You consumed a Mischievous Spirit that wreaks havoc on your insides, demanding to be taken home, deep in the Wood. It occupies one slot but absorbs one Fatigue each day. It wants you alive (for now).
🙛 Omens
The once rich waters of a life-giving river have turned black and putrid, tainting the land and sickening those who drink from it. A village elder points to some recent desecration as the cause, but most do not heed their words.
🙛 Your Past
How did you earn your bow?
War. If you are first to attack, your bow gains the blast property for the first round.
What kind of wood is your bow made from?
Western Yew (d6, bulky). Can be wielded as a blunt weapon (d6). Noisy.