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 Stout Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Wavy
Hair. Your Face is
Pale, your
Speech Squeaky. You have
Elegant Clothing. You are
Serene and
Bitter.
Your age: 33.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 3
Armor: 1
STR: 15
DEX: 6
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)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 7
🙛 Bonds
Letter: During your travels, you met a dying hunter who asked you to deliver a message to their loved ones. Take a Letter (petty), sealed with tree sap. It is addressed only to the Lord Of Winter.
🙛 Omens
Strange cracks have appeared in the night sky, revealing a swirling vortex of light and color. Some say that the divide between realms is at its weakest in centuries, and fear what may emerge from the other side.
🙛 Your Past
How did you earn your bow?
Falconry. You keep a falcon [3 hp, 5 STR, 16 DEX, 4 WIL, claws (d6+d6), bite (d8)]. It only eats live game.
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.