You are known by the smell of molten metal and the jingle of tin. You are no mere merchant but an artisan of fire and metal.
You have a Scrawny Physique,
Rosy Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Droning. You have
Elegant Clothing. You are
Tolerant and
Nervous.
Your age: 19.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 1
STR: 5
DEX: 14
WIL: 18
🙛 Equipment (9)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Long Sword (d10, bulky)
Gambeson (+1 Armor)
Fire Eggs (d8, blast)
Blood-Red Flower (petty)
Gold: 11
🙛 Bonds
Blood-Red Flower: The Dawn Brigade did your family a service, giving you a dried Blood-Red Flower (petty) as proof. When the flower turns white, it means the favor is owed.
🙛 Omens
The night sky grows dimmer each evening, as if stars are disappearing one by one. Rumors of hellish creatures capturing farmers and pulling them into the Roots are spreading like wildfire. Village elders believe the two are connected.
🙛 Your Past
What is your trade?
You offer protection as a service, quietly watching for threats as money exchanges hands. You start with +d4 HP, and carry a Long Sword (d10, bulky) and a Gambeson (+1 Armor).
What never fails to get you out of trouble?
Fire Eggs: Six small pellets made of sea salt, wood, and crockery-dust. They explode at low heat (d8, blast) but the flames dissipate quickly.