┌NAME──────────────────────────────────┬────────────────────┐
│ Goodeye                              │                    │
├BACKGROUND────────────────────────────┤                    │
│ Barber-Surgeon                       │                    │
├ABILITIES┬─────────┬─────────┬────────┤                    │
│         │         │         │        │                    │
│         │         │         │        │                    │
│         │         │         │        │                    │
│       8 │       9 │       6 │ HP:  2 │                    │
├─────────┴┬───┬────┴──┬───┬──┴───┬────┤                    │
│ DEPRIVED │   │ ARMOR │   │ GOLD │ 13 │                    │
└──────────┴───┴───────┴───┴──────┴────┴────────────────────┘
┌TRAITS────────────────┬─────────────────────────┬──────────┐
│ Physique: Scrawny    │ Speech: Stuttering      │ Age: 25  │
│ Skin: Rosy           │ Clothing: Livery        ├──────────┤
│ Hair: Braided        │ Virtue: Ambitious       │          │
│ Face: Broken         │ Vice: Vain              │          │
├BONDS─────────────────┴─────────────────────────┴──────────┤
│ You inherited an old Journal, bound in bark. Each         │
│ evening, its pages are filled with the events of the day, │
│ crassly from the journal’s perspective. The writing is    │
│ crude, but accurate.                                      │
│                                                           │
├OMENS──────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ The night sky grows dimmer each evening, as if stars are  │
│ disappearing one by one. Rumors of hellish creatures      │
│ capturing farmers and pulling them into The Roots are     │
│ spreading like wildfire. Village elders believe the two   │
│ are connected.                                            │
└───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
You walk the line between healer and harrower, knowing the frailty of the flesh but also the secrets that lay within. With the right tools, life and death are merely words.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
How have you “improved” yourself?
Your chest is lined with alchemical sigils, toughening the skin (Armor 1). Wearing other metallic armor nullifies the effect.
What rare tool is essential to your work?
Pneuma Pump: Portable iron lungs (bulky). Enables life-saving surgery, or underwater breathing.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Bonesaw (d6), Bandages (3 uses), Leech (restores 1 STR, 3 uses), Stained medical finery (petty)