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 Scrawny Physique,
Tanned Skin,
and Braided
Hair. Your Face is
Pale, your
Speech Booming. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Vengeful.
Your age: 18.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 3
Armor: 1
STR: 16
DEX: 7
WIL: 11
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Serrated Knife (d6)
Boiled Leather (1 Armor)
Heartroot Salve (1 uses)
Wych Elm (d6, bulky)
Bracelet (petty)
Gold: 5
🙛 Bonds
Bracelet: You promised a childhood friend that you’d bring them back a rare gift, something unique in all the world. Take a Bracelet (petty) woven from twine and wildflowers.
🙛 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
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?
Wych Elm (d6, bulky). Protects the bearer from poisons and toxins, so long as they are holding it.