You walk the line between healer and harrower, knowing the frailty of the flesh but also the secrets that lie within. With the right tools, life and death are merely words.
You have a Stout Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Bald
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Cryptic. You have
Bloody Clothing. You are
Tolerant and
Nervous.
Your age: 13.
π Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 8
DEX: 4
WIL: 3
π Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Hook & Screwdriver (petty)
Regrowth Salve (1 uses)
Journal
Gold: 13
π Bonds
Journal: You inherited an old Journal, bound in bark. Each evening, its pages are filled with the events of the day, crassly from the journalβs perspective. The writing is crude, but accurate.
π Omens
Swarming pests gnaw away at the edges of dreams, and farmers speak of a loud buzzing sound emanating from deep within the Wood. They also say that the sound is getting closer.
π Your Past
How have you 'improved' yourself?
One of your fingers has been swapped, the bone replaced by gold and iron. Take a Hook and a Screwdriver that can attach to the fingertip.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Regrowth Salve: Regrows a body part over the course of a day. 1 use.