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 Scrawny Physique,
Birthmarked Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Blunt. You have
Rancid Clothing. You are
Cautious and
Deceitful.
Your age: 39.
π Attributes
HP: 3
Armor: 1
STR: 14
DEX: 12
WIL: 12
π Equipment (10)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Pincers
Roll of Tin
Gloves (petty)
Hammer (d6)
Long Sword (d10, bulky)
Gambeson (+1 Armor)
Carrion Cat (bulky)
Whistle (petty)
Gold: 3
π Bonds
Whistle: You carved a Whistle (petty) from an Oak Lordβs branch. Your act did not go unnoticed. You cannot seem to rid yourself of the whistle either.
π Omens
A thick, unnatural fog has begun encroaching upon an ancient and holy grove. It is said to be the work of a great forest spirit, angered by nearby deforestation.
π Your Past
What is your trade?
You offer protection as a service, quietly watching for threats as money exchanges hands. You start with +d4 HP, and carry a Long Sword (d10, bulky) and a Gambeson (+1 Armor).
What never fails to get you out of trouble?
A clever pet, small enough to hide in your pack (bulky), but strong enough to scare off smaller predators. Requires one Ration a day, and it must be meat.