┌NAME──────────────────────────────────┬────────────────────┐ │ Flint │ │ ├BACKGROUND────────────────────────────┤ │ │ Fletchwind │ │ ├ABILITIES┬─────────┬─────────┬────────┤ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 6 │ 11 │ 13 │ HP: 1 │ │ ├─────────┴┬───┬────┴──┬───┬──┴───┬────┤ │ │ DEPRIVED │ │ ARMOR │ │ GOLD │ 10 │ │ └──────────┴───┴───────┴───┴──────┴────┴────────────────────┘ ┌TRAITS────────────────┬─────────────────────────┬──────────┐ │ Physique: Rugged │ Speech: Whispery │ Age: 22 │ │ Skin: Tanned │ Clothing: Foreign ├──────────┤ │ Hair: Filthy │ Virtue: Merciful │ │ │ Face: Broken │ Vice: Nervous │ │ ├BONDS─────────────────┴─────────────────────────┴──────────┤ │ You consumed a Mischievous Spirit that periodically │ │ wreaks havoc on your insides, demanding to be taken home. │ │ It wants to keep you alive, at least until it is free. It │ │ takes up one slot, but eats one Fatigue per day. It can │ │ detect magic and knows a bit about The Woods. │ ├OMENS──────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤ │ The constellations have slowly started shifting in the │ │ night sky, forming unfamiliar patterns that have │ │ stargazers and sages perplexed. Even the animals seem │ │ disturbed. │ │ │ └───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ You strike from afar, but that does not make you a coward. You are a musician, the song of your bowstring nought but a warning, singing the silent promise of a quick death. ───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── How did you earn your bow? Falconry. You keep a falcon [3 hp, 5 STR, 16 DEX, 4 WIL, claws (d6+d6), bite (d6)]. It only eats live game. What kind of wood is your bow made from? Sessile Oak (d8, bulky). Slams into targets. On Critical Damage something is torn off. ───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── Serrated knife (d6), Boiled leather (1 Armor), Wooden sight (petty), Heartroot Salve (recover 1d4 STR)