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 Brawny Physique,
Tattooed Skin,
and Long
Hair. Your Face is
Pale, your
Speech Booming. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Nervous.
Your age: 41.
π Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 0
STR: 9
DEX: 14
WIL: 3
π Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Metal Ingot
Gold Powder (3 uses)
Pyrophoric Gel
Whistle (petty)
Gold: 7
π Bonds
Whistle: You carved a Whistle (petty) from an Oak Lordβs branch. Your act did not go unnoticed. You cannot seem to rid yourself of the whistle either.
π Omens
Strange, tear-shaped stones have been found throughout the region, sparking a 'gold rush' of sorts for jewelers and thieves alike. The locals believe they are the tears of the earth itself, weeping for a great tragedy yet to come.
π Your Past
What went horribly wrong?
You were adept at creating fake gold, which is almost as good. Eventually, your ruse was discovered, and you had to make a hasty retreat. Take a heavy Metal Ingot and Gold Powder.
What alchemical marvel is the product of your latest ingenuity?
Pyrophoric Gel: A sticky green fluid that catches fire when exposed to air. It lasts for 8 hours and cannot be extinguished.