You are a shepherd to the departed. You listen to the final whispers of the dead as they descend into the cold, unyielding earth. You know that to fully celebrate the gift of life, we must honor its finale as well.
You have a Scrawny Physique,
Soft Skin,
and Braided
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Soiled Clothing. You are
Courageous and
Lazy.
Your age: 29.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 15
DEX: 12
WIL: 16
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Manacles
Blood-Red Flower (petty)
Gold: 14
🙛 Special
Burial Wagon (6
slots)
Donkey (4
slots)
🙛 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
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
What did you take from the dead?
A burial wagon (+6 slots, slow) from your last job. It came with a stubborn old donkey (+4 slots, only +2 slots if pulling wagon).
What tool was invaluable in your work?
Manacles. Though old, it's still effective even against the very strong. You don't have the key.