You are an artisan of the arcane, a smith of subtle forces. In the crucible of your workshop, the laws that govern this world are warped to suit your needs.
You have a Short Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Frizzy
Hair. Your Face is
Square, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Rancid Clothing. You are
Humble and
Greedy.
Your age: 48.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 3
DEX: 7
WIL: 11
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Blunderbuss (d12, blast, bulky)
Pyrophoric Gel
Single Gem
Gold: 15
🙛 Bonds
Single Gem: You inherited a Single Gem (500gp, cold and brittle) from a long-dead relative. It arrived with a warning: squander your newfound riches, and a debt long thought forgotten would be called.
🙛 Omens
The local fauna is behaving oddly, displaying heightened aggression, or fleeing the area entirely. Hunters talk of a shadowy figure that roams the Wood, calling to the animals.
🙛 Your Past
What went horribly wrong?
Your alchemical recipe worked, but a rival stole the blueprint before your claims could be proven. Take a prototype Blunderbuss that takes one round to reload, and a thirst for revenge.
What alchemical marvel is the product of your latest ingenuity?
Pyrophoric Gel: A sticky green fluid that catches fire when exposed to air. It lasts for 8 hours and cannot be extinguished.