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 Athletic Physique,
Birthmarked Skin,
and Wispy
Hair. Your Face is
Broken, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Antique Clothing. You are
Cautious and
Vengeful.
Your age: 48.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 16
DEX: 11
WIL: 17
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Spellbook (Detect Magic)
Incense
Miniature Lute
Gold: 10
🙛 Bonds
Miniature Lute: An entertainer once visited your home, filling it with story and song. He left one day without a word, leaving behind only A Miniature Lute. Something rattles inside.
🙛 Omens
The constellations have slowly started shifting in the night sky, forming unfamiliar patterns that have stargazers and sages perplexed. Even the animals seem disturbed.
🙛 Your Past
What did you take from the dead?
The Detect Magic spellbook, stolen from an ancient library. Your family worked in service to an obscure underworld deity, but you lost your faith. Though exiled, you continue to serve, even as an apostate.
What tool was invaluable in your work?
Incense. Perfect for rituals or to keep the flies at bay. Cools the blood.