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 Stout Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Bald
Hair. Your Face is
Sharp, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Filthy Clothing. You are
Serene and
Rude.
Your age: 38.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 1
STR: 8
DEX: 16
WIL: 5
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Lantern
Oil Can (6 uses)
Needle-Knife (d6)
Protective Gloves (petty)
Blunderbuss (d12, blast, bulky)
Pyrophoric Gel
Stone Heart (1 Armor)
Gold: 11
🙛 Bonds
Stone Heart: You crossed a creature of the Wood, and it cursed you with a Stone Heart (1 Armor). With each passing month, the stone grows heavier by one slot. Until your debt is lifted, you cannot truly die.
🙛 Omens
Local livestock have grown increasingly agitated and unmanageable as of late. An old shephard says it is due to an unsettling howl that emanates from the Wood each full moon.
🙛 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.