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 Lanky Physique,
Webbed Skin,
and Wispy
Hair. Your Face is
Perfect, your
Speech Booming. You have
Livery Clothing. You are
Honorable and
Vain.
Your age: 31.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 5
DEX: 9
WIL: 8
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Stake (d6)
Chains (10ft)
Spellbook (Detect Magic)
Manacles
Twig (petty)
Gold: 10
🙛 Bonds
Twig: A white crow appeared to you in a dream, holding a twig in its mouth. You awoke the next morning with The Twig (petty) in your hand. You believe it brings you luck. It smells faintly of sulfur.
🙛 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?
Manacles. Though old, it's still effective even against the very strong. You don't have the key.