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 Stout Physique,
Tanned Skin,
and Long
Hair. Your Face is
Perfect, your
Speech Booming. You have
Frumpy Clothing. You are
Courageous and
Craven.
Your age: 12.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 3
DEX: 8
WIL: 9
🙛 Equipment (5)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Homunculus
Gold: 14
🙛 Bonds
One of your ancestors wronged a Moss Witch, who cursed their bloodline. Your visage causes mirrors to shatter. You’ve noticed that the shards can sometimes reveal illusions.
🙛 Omens
The moon turns a deep crimson, bathing the night in an eerie, blood-red light. Some say it heralds a time of chaos and strife, as the boundaries between the Wood and the mortal realm grow thin.
🙛 Your Past
What went horribly wrong?
You were exposed to a long-acting truth serum whose effects have yet to wear off. The disorder has its advantages: you cannot repeat lies you've heard, either.
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.