You are an artisan of the arcane, a smith of subtle forces. In the crucible of your workshop, the laws that govern this world are warped to suit your needs.
You have a Athletic Physique,
Scarred Skin,
and Braided
Hair. Your Face is
Chiseled, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Soiled Clothing. You are
Serene and
Nervous.
Your age: 13.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 10
DEX: 12
WIL: 15
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Tin of Snuff (6 uses)
Spark Dust (3 uses)
Letter (petty)
Gold: 8
🙛 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
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
What went horribly wrong?
There was an explosion, and you lost your sense of smell. Well, almost: you can sniff out gold as a pig does truffles. Take a Tin of Snuff to dampen the impact. Use it every day or become deprived.
What alchemical marvel is the product of your latest ingenuity?
Spark Dust: Ignites easily and quickly. Useful for starting a fire or as an incendiary device.