You are known by the smell of molten metal and the jingle of tin. You are no mere merchant but an artisan of fire and metal.
You have a Towering Physique,
Tattooed Skin,
and Bald
Hair. Your Face is
Chiseled, your
Speech Precise. You have
Rancid Clothing. You are
Ambitious and
Greedy.
Your age: 24.
π Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 0
STR: 8
DEX: 12
WIL: 16
π Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Fireworks (2 uses)
Journal
Gold: 17
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
Statues have been weeping blood for months on end, and the wombs of the village have lain barren since they began to fall. A single child has been the only exception, taken by elders overcome with fear and dread.
π Your Past
What is your trade?
You build small contraptions for local guilds (and don't ask too many questions). Take an extra 40gp and a wanted poster with your face on it. Given time and materials, you can open almost any door or vault.
What never fails to get you out of trouble?
Fireworks: A dazzling albeit dangerous display. Enough explosive material to blow off a finger or three. 2 uses remain.