Cut­ter ori­gins. Sorts bestow start­ing skills, traits, and pos­ses­sions. Your sort is what you were—after choos­ing it, what you become is up to you.

Every sort lists two weak­ness­es. To qual­i­fy for a sort dur­ing char­ac­ter cre­ation, your weak­ness must match one of them.

• See the qual­i­fi­ca­tions chart for a sort match­ing your weak­ness.

Some sorts come with issues or virtues. These nei­ther give nor cost XP, even if they usu­al­ly would.

Some human sorts are mutants—the prod­uct of genom­ic med­dling by Dark Age sor­cer­ers seek­ing to pro­duce a more durable race of chat­tel. You have a 1-in-6 chance of being allowed a mutant sort at time of selec­tion.

Some sorts are unusu­al. They are unique crea­tures and per­sons; 2 of a kind can­not coin­cide. You have a 1-in-12 chance of being allowed an unusu­al sort at time of selec­tion.

Alienist

You were a psy­chi­a­trist. A inter­preter of the brain’s hid­den gal­leries. You stud­ied the great works—memory, dreams, luna­cy, hyp­no­tism, the uncon­scious mind—and saw fin­ger­prints in the paint. Sig­na­tures in the mar­gins. Influ­ences upon human nature not inter­nal, but external—from antiq­ui­ty, divin­i­ty, and 4worlds beyond.

TypeHuman or Mouse - Unusu­al | weak­nessFort. or Sub­tle­ty.

Bighter

You are a carcer­al marine. When a whip­ping to be dis­pensed, it is the bighter—the hand best at knots—who ties and swings the bit­ing lash. Sol­diers, sailors, mer­ce­nar­ies, and rough folk abide your woe­ful art: The hum­bling kiss of rope.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessIntel­lect or Sub­tle­ty

Binder

You are a weaver of swad­dled folk. A respect­ed fig­ure in chif­fonier cir­cles. An arti­san in the art­ful bind­ing-up of rav­eled life; of flow­ing blood and cloth alike.

TypeRag­man | weak­nessAgili­ty or Might

Flesh Inter­lace You can use Top­ic: Weav­ing to stanch bleed­ing and bind wounds instead of Med­i­cine. 12 m trap­pings = 1 ban­dage.

Blighted vanguard

You have found oppor­tu­ni­ty where many find despair and pari­ah­dom. Your dis­ease is an asset. Instead of fear and pity, you engen­der demand. Demand for your ser­vices as an unfeel­ing liv­ing shield.

TypeRag­man or Human | weak­nessAgili­ty or Per­cep­tion

Dis­ease Left hand, upper arm, and fore­arm have stage II blight.

Body snatcher

You are a med­ical mis­ap­pro­pri­a­tor. A thief of the hon­ored dead for sale on the black market—or for your own dis­sec­tion and har­vest.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessAgili­ty or Immu­ni­ty

Boilermaker

You bring a bit of civ­i­liza­tion wher­ev­er you go: A lit stove and a boil­er of hot water. A beloved ally to ven­ture­some types, for whom heat and com­fort may oth­er­wise be so far away.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessAgili­ty or Sub­tle­ty

Virtue: Fit­ment: [1 start­ing item]

Caitiff

You’ve been this way all your life: Hat­ed. A poltroon, a lily-liv­er and a back­biter. A cow­ard­ly das­tard who’ll not only flee your side but take advan­tage in due time. You can’t help it—life is more ter­ri­fy­ing than any­one seems to real­ize, only palat­able when tak­en with the upper hand. It’s in your blood, though you’ll nev­er know it: Ancient med­dling has sown in your blood­line the mak­ings of a per­fect, despi­ca­ble spy­mas­ter.

TypeHuman - Mutant | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Intel­lect

Craven: Suf­fer ter­ror if per­il starts and you did­n’t insti­gate it.

Cooper

You are a ben­der and a binder of stout hous­ings. A trades­man con­vert­ed by pop­u­lar demand from a crafter of kegs and wine bar­rels to an out­fit­ter of cutter’s casques and body-plates.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessPer­cep­tion or Immu­ni­ty

Virtue: Fit­ment: Keg back­pack or Buck­et hel­met

Cutler

You are a work­er in the live­ly art of blades—in the revi­tal­iz­ing pass of steel over stone and strop. In the per­ish­ing wake of live steel.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, or Mouse | weak­nessMight or For­ti­tude

Chimneysweep

You spent a life up and down flues. Bruised, abrad­ed, burned, suf­fo­cat­ed. Knees and spine and elbows tat­tooed by the shim­my. To out­grow the chim­ney-pipe places you pre­car­i­ous­ly atop it, stoop­ing to rope out the juniors and thrust the whale­tooth brush­es. Among the worst pro­fes­sions in a world, where the stacks stretch ever taller and acquire ever more soot.

TypeAny | weak­nessSub­tle­ly or Immu­ni­ty

Dis­ease: Start with soot wart and/or black lung. Get +10 start­ing XP for each body area affect­ed by warts and +40 for black lung.

Churchmouse

You are an eccle­sial acces­so­ry; a tra­di­tion­al employ­ee of parish­es that do no labor upon the Sab­bath, but grate­ful­ly employ those fur­ry folk who can. For every church, there is a church­mouse, and where the church can­not go, the church­mouse goes instead.

TypeMouse | weak­nessImmu­ni­ty or Scur­ry

Disorderly

You are, or were, valet to some offi­cer or com­mis­sion­er. By what­ev­er vagary, you have been sep­a­rat­ed, left aim­less with half your gear and a pair of officer’s boots.

TypeHuman | weak­nessSub­tle­ty or Per­cep­tion

Driftbrick

You’re a mem­ber of the Mason’s Guild, a coali­tion of itin­er­ants who’ll put a qual­i­ty brick in what­ev­er wall, fire­place, or face the employ­er desires.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessIntel­lect or Per­cep­tion

Exposist

You are a crime scene camerist. A expos­er of pho­to­plates and the lurid after­math of lives. The tabloids have lost your loy­al­ty, though: There are sub­jects more outré—more thrilling to exploit—within the deep of the ancient Coast and the bor­ders of oth­er worlds. Places where flash­bulbs have not yet burned.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, or Mouse | weak­nessIntel­lect or Immu.

Field barber

You are a cut­ter of scruff and a mender of the bro­ken. A rare ally in dirty and painful times.

TypeHuman or Mouse | weak­nessMight or Immu­ni­ty

Virtue: Cut­man or Main­tain Appear­ances

Fieldstone

You were found in a bar­ley­field, struck by a steam tiller. It dam­aged you con­sid­er­ably: A seg­ment of your grieb is cleaved off, lost. It held most of your mem­o­ries, sad­ly, a loss dis­cov­ered upon your revival by a geologist—to whom the bar­ley­man sold you. How you came to be buried in a field can nev­er be answered. There are more urgent ques­tions, any­way, like: “How shall I get on in human soci­ety?” And: “What kind of alco­hol do they pro­duce?”

TypeHob - Unusu­al | weak­nessIntel­lect or Immu­ni­ty

Gunhawk

You are a hired pis­toleer. A pair of flit­ting eyes and a palm quick on the draw bought to start vio­lence before it can spring to oth­er hands. A pro­fes­sion well-desired in the march­lands and fron­tiers, where speed and dis­cre­tion make peace. And where coin, wet with gore and gun oil, makes right.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessMight or Intel­lect

Virtue: Pounce or Bet­ter Late

Harlequin

You are dev­il­some com­me­dia star in the jeer­ing mask: Caper­ing, jest­ing, flirt­ing with the soubrette, cart­wheel­ing away from con­se­quence. In the pan­tomine, much the same: Bick­er with the Sad Clown, har­ry the grue-mimes with the slap­stick, prat­fall when kissed by the pret­ty young thing. Under the big­top: Don the grease­paint smile, sell the bal­loons, defy the ring­mas­ter, ter­ri­fy and enrap­ture the chil­dren. None of that mat­ters any­more, though. The troupe is gone, the mon­ey spent, the joke unwound. A fool remains.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessMight or Sub­tle­ty

Hellion

You are a human born cursed. Born of old blood; of Dark Age war­riors who trad­ed col­or and sen­sa­tion for furi­ous clar­i­ty in com­bat. Like them, your sens­es wake from numb­ness only with the roar­ing swell of pain.

TypeHuman - Mutant | weak­nessPer­cep­tion or Intel­lect

Adren­al clar­i­ty: You make all attack and Per­cep­tion rolls at -1 unless affect­ed by pain. While in pain, you can use Adren­al Response to buy Edges for your attacks (one per attack.)

Idler

You are a twid­dler of thumbs. A lean­er and a smok­er in door­frames and shad­ed cor­ners. A lis­ten­er and a thinker. Not an actor, but an observ­er. Not a layabout, but an incip­i­ent learn­er.

TypeHuman, mouse, or rag­man | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Might

Idle hands: Once per ses­sion, gain Prac­tice in a skill you see anoth­er char­ac­ter prac­tice.

Infected herbalist

You are a learned pari­ah. Dri­ven into society’s out­skirts by hate for your con­di­tion and by your rov­ing search for ame­lio­rat­ing extracts and unknown panaceas. In the obscure and wild places of the world lies a cure. Or, at least, ease­ment for your suf­fer­ing.

Typehuman, rag­man, or mouse | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Immu­ni­ty

Dis­ease: 3 ran­dom body areas have stage II blight. Alter­na­tive­ly, choose anoth­er chron­ic, advanced dis­ease. See dis­eases for both.

Intrepid child

You are a child of small stature and out­sized ambi­tion. Self-trained by sto­ry­books in wood­en swords, stick-bows, and ideations of high adven­ture.

TypeChild | weak­nessMight or Intel­lect

Intruder

You are a duplic­i­tous rogue. Pos­sessed of fine limbs, nim­ble man­ners, and a predilec­tion for intru­sion with­in homes and minds.

TypeHuman, Mouse, or Rag­man | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Intel­lect

Ironmonger

You are a roustabout from Coun­ty Black, Firlund’s smog-choked heart of indus­try. You are indus­tri­ous and super­sti­tious, both. Raised on patri­o­tism, toil, and the glo­ry of the Indus­tri­al Enlight­en­ment, and hyper-aware of the Oth­er and its hate for all you work for and love.

TypeHuman | weak­nessAgili­ty or Immu­ni­ty

Issue: Cursed

Killed-in-action

You woke among the dead. Blood­ied, for­got­ten, half-buried. Struck down by a mor­tal shot, yet still alive. To those you once knew, to your old life, you are dead. You know noth­ing of it; you are a new crea­ture entire­ly. How you remain alive, you may nev­er know. 

TypeHuman - Mutant | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Immu­ni­ty

Virtue: Death­blow­proof

Revenant: You have no mem­o­ry of your first life. You can’t rec­ol­lect lore skills.

Kriegsminister

You’ve tum­bled from the top. One of a hun­dred or more heads sprout­ed and sub­se­quent­ly pruned by Lothrheim’s War Min­istry in its strug­gles with Belvirine and her allied banks. You should have expect­ed it—your strate­gies weren’t any bet­ter than the rest—but that’s no excuse to have thrown you down, so. Pen­ni­less, ban­ished, stripped of your fra­ter­nal alle­giances, dis­avowed by your peers. They’ve sent you to the bot­tom, where the des­per­a­dos lie. How fit­ting it would be to become one of them; one of the caste your coun­try so unwise­ly sum­moned war by ban­ning: a cut­ter.

TypeHuman or Mouse - unusu­al | weak­nessMight or Sub­tle­ty

mar­shal: When you call a shot with Per­cep­tion, choose two allies instead of one. The first to attack gets the edge. The allies must still have low­er Per­cep­tion than you.

Lee urchin

You’re an awful young waif. A hud­dler in hol­low logs and dark alleys. A pick­pock­et and a risker. Per­haps an orphan, per­haps a vic­tim of soci­ety. Like­ly a crim­i­nal. Most def­i­nite­ly a scamp.

TypeChild, Mouse Pup, or Ragling | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Might

Log feller

You are a human of sim­ple means and delib­er­ate action. A wood­cut­ter, a forest­man; curi­ous­ly adept at delv­ing into forests, how­ev­er gloomy and haunt­ed. 

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessIntel­lect or Sub­tle­ty

Lugger

You are a con­vey­or of bur­dens. A back grown broad and steady neath uncount­ed crush­ing loads. Per­haps a steve­dore, a farmer, or a bear­er of sacred oils. Now, a couri­er of what­ev­er car­go graces your iron frame.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessAgili­ty or Sub­tle­ty

Virtue: Fit­ment: [your start­ing con­tain­er] and Good back

Linkend

Yours it is the most junior and dread­ed job in the ven­tur­ing econ­o­my: The link­end, or link­er. A cut­ter of so lit­tle might or skill as to be rel­e­gat­ed as for­ward lantern-bear­er for stronger par­ties. Link­enden walk first in march­ing order, ful­fill­ing a sec­ondary, unspo­ken role: To trig­ger traps and bear the brunt of ambush. You are the first in dan­ger. The first to per­ish. The last to be paid.

TypeAny | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Immu­ni­ty

Reluc­tant van­guard: When first in march­ing order, get a bonus to dodge and sur­prise rolls equal to 2 - your Ses­sions Sur­vived.

Lurkabout

You are a lurk­er and an encroach­er. A latent loi­ter­er in dank hov­els and dug-out hol­lows. Your goals and wants are rude, but dis­tinct.

TypeRag­man | weak­nessIntel­lect or For­ti­tude

Malpracticant

You are expelled. Top of your class, and so close to your res­i­den­cy. “Ongo­ing mis­con­duct of a moral­ly trou­bling nature,” claimed the Fac­ul­ty Coun­cil. “Stag­ger­ing crim­i­nal and eth­i­cal vio­la­tions.” A unan­i­mous vote for your ejec­tion. No mat­ter: They can’t destroy your the­sis. Your work con­tin­ues else­where: In the fron­tier, the dun­geon, or the bat­tle­field will you found your ersatz research hos­pi­tal, and in cut­ters find your sub­jects.

TypeHuman, rag­man, or mouse - Unusu­al | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Might

Manhunter

You know the thin dis­tinc­tion between a crazed killer and a civ­il con­trac­tor: One has their head on a poster, the oth­er is you.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessAgili­ty or Intel­lect

Moonshiner

You are a mer­chant refugee. A brew­er and a ped­dler of craft spir­its fled from Belvirine, where such prod­ucts are pro­hib­it­ed.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessImmu­ni­ty or Per­cep­tion

Morselieur

You are dar­ing vict­ualler. A hunter and a seek­er of new food­stuffs, wher­ev­er they may hide.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, or Mouse | weak­nessMight or Agili­ty

Virtue: For­ager

Parvenu

You were nou­veau riche, briefly. Ascend­ed on an updraft of mon­ey and fame to scin­til­late among the unmasked aris­tos­phere. You attend­ed the din­ner par­ties, the char­i­ty balls, the rib­bon-cut­tings; the rol­lick­ing sum­mer social sea­son and its recep­tions, debu­tantes, regat­tas, and open­ing nights at the opera. The con­vivial win­ter of coun­try hous­es, hunt­ing par­ties, resort towns, and end­less smoky nights nod­ding and argu­ing with the fer­vent heads of pol­i­tics and indus­try. But not every­one likes an upstart. Soon enough, they found you out—you impostor—and cut you down.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, Mouse - Unusu­al | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Agili­ty

Pavisier

You’re a medieval schol­ar. A clever re-adopter of medieval tac­tics. In real­i­ty, you’re a would-be cut­ter with a torn-off door, a hand­ful of smarts, and a pen­chant for hid­ing behind things.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessPer­cep­tion or Sub­tle­ty

Poacher

You are a hun­gry stalk­er. A hunter and a thief. Phras­es like “pri­vate prop­er­ty” and “land use rights” are mere­ly phrases—ones con­coct­ed by the wealthy, who are poor­er woods­men than you. 

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessMight or Intel­lect

Pixie eater

You are a wretched pup. A catch­er and a gob­bler of any­thing small and slow enough to find itself in your grub­by paws. Per­haps you have poten­tial. Per­haps you will always be like this.

TypeChild, Mouse pup, or Ragling | weak­nessIntel­lect or Might

Plumeau

Yours is a role deemed inte­gral to Emper­oussin high ser­vice: The dust-mouse, who charges the clocks, fluffs the pil­lows, and  cleans the unreach­able places. A ser­vant often present, but rarely seen. A hear­er of secrets, and a view­er of the strange and recher­ché pas­times of aris­to­crats.

TypeMouse | weak­nessMight or For­ti­tude

Professicant

You are a trav­el­ing prog­nos­ti­cant. A lec­tur­ist who wan­ders, dis­pens­ing sam­ples of a col­lect­ed stock of knowl­edge. You for­sake academia’s samey halls for var­ied school­rooms in inns, vil­lage squares, and shad­ed lees. Per­haps you do so out of dis­con­tent, or per­haps your eru­di­tion is of a kind unfit for civ­i­lized lands.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, or Mouse | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Agili­ty

Patescrape

You are an unusu­al fur­ri­er. Your arts unap­pre­ci­at­ed by the civ­il and the human. For you, this is no con­cern. Such folk are less often patrons than hir­sute hides wait­ing to be dressed.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessIntel­lect or Immu­ni­ty

Ravelling

You are a mis­be­got­ten colony. A pack of chil­dren unwant­ed and starv­ing, unit­ed mind and body by tied tat­ters and emp­ty bel­lies into a woe­ful, scut­tling whole. Tan­gled into a sym­bi­ot­ic knot.

TypeRagling - Unusu­al | weak­nessMight or Immu­ni­ty

Tan­gled: You are a dirty mass of weak, tiny raglings con­nect­ed by a woven man­tle-nest of trap­pings: You still occu­py 1 square, but you may not be moved through by allies; you have 2 warmth at all times; and you may not dis­con­nect indi­vid­ual raglings from the knot. You do not have names. You are “Us,” or “we.”

When you “die,” one of your con­stituent raglings dies. You may eat it or cut it from the knot and eject it. When this hap­pens, half your wounds and their cor­re­spond­ing Stress van­ish and you gain 4 dis­tress. If this hap­pens thrice, gain a name, and become a lee urchin instead.

Per­pet­u­al hunger: You require dou­ble the usu­al food per day. You can­not become well fed.

Refector

You are a priest of the Refec­tive Order. A monk devot­ed to the phys­i­cal and spir­i­tu­al nour­ish­ment of the faith­ful. As the sup­per table is your tem­ple, so too are comestibles your bless­ing.

TypeHuman | weak­nessAgili­ty or Per­cep­tion

Lord’s lunch: Square meals you cook count as Eucharist.

Virtues: Avethan and Ordained of Aveth (see Faith.)

Revenant delver

You live again—despite a fatal false start to your ven­tur­ing career. Robbed of your health, your mem­o­ry, and your first life, you have one boon to your name: A sec­ond chance at the dun­geon where­in you met your end.

TypeHuman - Mutant | weak­nessImmu­ni­ty or Sub­tle­ty

Alter­na­tive­ly, start with the wounds, belong­ings, and 3 skills from a recent­ly dead com­pan­ion.

Revenant: You have no mem­o­ry of your first life. You can’t rec­ol­lect lore skills.

Virtue: Death­blow­proof

Soaplicker

You are a rogue from the port-cities of Maples. On the brick­walks and canal-streets, you learned the dance of the lic­cas­apone: The soap-knife so well known for anoint­ing duelists with arc­ing, saponat­ed scars. With a fist of rope and a long blade, you will bestow many more.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessMight or Per­cep­tion

Virtue: Dis­fig­ured

Mapoli­tan Twist: When you wield a rope fist, its block val­ue is 2 instead of 0, but only ver­sus edged weapons.

Slubberdegullion

You are a lim­bic thrall. Dri­ven by the cost and mea­ger vari­ety of com­mon nar­cotics to the edge of soci­ety, to repro­bate lengths and derelict places. To the Desperado’s life, which you lead in vio­lent, fever­ish lurch­es between phar­ma­co­log­i­cal obliv­ions.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, or Mouse | weak­ness Intel­lect or Per­cep­tion

issue: Poly­sub­sis­tence

Stew captain

Yours is a role ancient and inte­gral to mar­tial tra­di­tion. No com­pa­ny nor mer­ce­nary band is com­plete with­out such a culi­nary quar­ter­mas­ter. A keep­er, pre­par­er, and dis­trib­u­tor of the stewpot’s pre­cious con­tents.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessImmu­ni­ty or Sub­tle­ty

Virtue: Per­pet­u­al Stew

Virtue: Fit­ment: Round-bel­ly cop­per pot

Teamster

You are a dri­ver and a pack­er. A mak­er of mobile order, capa­ble of turn­ing the heavy chaos of pack­ages, car­go, beasts, and men into a con­voy lashed and bound for prof­itable ports and expe­di­tious aims.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessAgili­ty or Intel­lect

Trespasser

You are cross­er of for­bid­den thresh­olds. A tomb crack­er inspired not so much by bur­gled gold, but by a per­verse urge to tres­pass ancient seals and immured grounds.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessPer­cep­tion or For­ti­tude

Trycook

Your call­ing is to fry. To fuel the cut­ters, sol­diers, lum­ber­jacks, and sailors of the world. Pan­cakes, eggs, fat­ted prunes, pota­toes and hash; slung from greased grid­dles and bur­bling pans of fat: Oil for the mech­a­nism of the work­ing body.

TypeHuman or Rag­man | weak­nessAgili­ty or For­ti­tude

Flens­ing: When har­vest­ing a car­cass, gain units of fat equal to your Butch­ery lev­el in addi­tion to any meat acquired.

Tune carrier

You are a mar­tial musi­cian. Bear­er and employ­er of the state­ly fan­fares, cadences, and ener­getic march­es by which fight­ing folk are spurred to pur­pose­ful action. By pipe, fife, or beat­ing drum, you stir the heart to war.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, Mouse, Child | weak­nessImmu­ni­ty or For­ti­tude

Unclaimed cargo

You were packed away. First, the farewells; the hur­ried straw dun­nage; the crack of box nails in pine; the bump and curs­ing of the steve­dores; the long days sway­ing at sea. Then the jerk of the quay crane; the heat of the dock­side impound; the bick­er­ing of the cus­toms offi­cers; the long dark of the ware­house; the weeks of silence save for rats gnaw­ing with­out. Weeks at once tor­pid and ner­vous. Eager and ter­ri­fied. Who final­ly freed you? It was­n’t “T.S. Esper­an­za,” at any rate, his print­ed name over­writ­ten by a damn­ing red stamp: unclaimed car­go.

Typeani­muncu­lus - Unusu­al | weak­nessAgili­ty or Per­cep­tion

Issue| Claus­tro­pho­bia or nyc­to­pho­bia

Venturesome priest

You are on a woe­ful errand. Descend­ed from the holy crags of Mount Rubi­tus to aid cut­ters in their goals. Though rude and most­ly faith­less, their task—to dri­ve out the wild, the Oth­er­ly, and the devilsome—is supreme­ly right­eous. You’ll join in their ven­tures, how­ev­er bloody they be.

TypeHuman | weak­nessMight or Sub­tle­ty

Virtue: Avethan and Ordained of Aveth (see Faith.)

Wickie

You are a nur­tur­er of light. A light­house keep­er, cur­rent or erst­while. Trim­mer of wicks, winder of springs, pol­ish­er of lens­es. One of a rare, iso­lat­ed folk. A lone­ly caste who find solace in light and in toil, lest the turn­ing of gears and the hiss of lamps fade and admit the mad roar of the sea—or the cries of ship­wrecked men.

TypeHuman, Rag­man, or Mouse | weak­nessFor­ti­tude or Sub­tle­ty

Bright har­bor: While near a light you lit and main­tained, get +1 to sleep rolls. If the light extin­guish­es, suf­fer -2.

Woe friar

You are a monk of the Sepul­tur­al Order. A roam­ing agent sent to roam the cold and infi­del North and ensure holy bur­ial of the hon­ored dead. Your task: Inter human beings. Spare how­ev­er many you may from a hea­then pyre. Bring them to Par­adise.

TypeHuman | weak­nessAgili­ty or Sub­tle­ty

Virtues: Avethan and Ordained of Aveth (see Faith.)

* * *