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 Statuesque Physique,
Tattooed Skin,
and Oily
Hair. Your Face is
Elongated, your
Speech Whispery. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Vengeful.
Your age: 15.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 0
STR: 10
DEX: 4
WIL: 16
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Tin of Snuff (6 uses)
Homunculus
Letter (petty)
Gold: 4
🙛 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
The songbirds of the Wood have fallen eerily silent as of late. Hunters claim that a spectral figure has been spotted wandering the forest, gazing longingly at anyone it encounters.
🙛 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?
Homunculus: A miniature clay replica of yourself that follows your every command. It hates being enthralled to you and complains bitterly whenever possible. Any damage done to the homunculus is also done to you. 3 HP, 4 STR, 13 DEX, 5 WIL.