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 Towering Physique,
Soft Skin,
and Frizzy
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Bloody Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Aggressive.
Your age: 30.
π Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 1
STR: 6
DEX: 15
WIL: 8
π Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Serrated Knife (d6)
Boiled Leather (1 Armor)
Heartroot Salve (1 uses)
Western Yew (d6, bulky)
Journal
Gold: 11
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
Hunters talk of a curse that befalls any who kill a beast with a streak of white fur: soon after, they are found dead in their homes. Each day, there are fewer and fewer creatures to hunt.
π Your Past
How did you earn your bow?
Tournaments. Attacks with your bow are enhanced if the target is immobile.
What kind of wood is your bow made from?
Western Yew (d6, bulky). Can be wielded as a blunt weapon (d6). Noisy.