You walk the line between healer and harrower, knowing the frailty of the flesh but also the secrets that lie within. With the right tools, life and death are merely words.
You have a Brawny Physique,
Soft Skin,
and Bald
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Bloody Clothing. You are
Humble and
Nervous.
Your age: 29.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 14
DEX: 5
WIL: 10
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Bonesaw (d6)
Bandages (3 uses)
Leech (3 uses)
Stained medical finery (petty)
Graftgrub (1 uses)
Twig (petty)
Gold: 9
🙛 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
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.
🙛 Your Past
How have you 'improved' yourself?
Both ears have been surgically enhanced, tripling your hearing. You can focus on a specific sound, such as a conversation, at a great distance. You wear an ear flap to protect against sudden loud noises (WIL save to avoid temporary paralysis).
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Graftgrub: A small worm that can fuse inanimate objects with parts of the body. 1 use.