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 Short Physique,
Rosy Skin,
and Braided
Hair. Your Face is
Pale, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Antique Clothing. You are
Tolerant and
Bitter.
Your age: 31.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 1
Armor: 1
STR: 18
DEX: 13
WIL: 12
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Alchemical Sigils (petty, +1 Armor)
Pneuma Pump (bulky)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 16
🙛 Bonds
Letter: You received a Letter (petty) detailing incontrovertible proof that your true parentage is that of Fae nobility. The note also indicates a date and location where you are to meet them, deep in the the Wood.
🙛 Omens
It feels like winter has arrived too quickly this year, frost and snows making their appearance much earlier than expected. There is talk of a pattern to the frost found in windows, ponds, and cracks in the ground. It almost looks like a map.
🙛 Your Past
How have you 'improved' yourself?
Your chest is lined with alchemical sigils, toughening the skin (Armor 1). Wearing other metallic armor nullifies the effect.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Pneuma Pump: Portable iron lungs (bulky). Enables life-saving surgery or underwater breathing.