An odd birthmark, a strange smell: somehow, the touch of elsewhere still lingers. Wherever you are, you have trouble fitting in. Roll on the Omens table (even if you're not the youngest player), but keep the results private for now.
You have a Brawny Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Wispy
Hair. Your Face is
Rakish, your
Speech Squeaky. You have
Elegant Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Nervous.
Your age: 43.
Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 0
STR: 4
DEX: 11
WIL: 4
Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Monk's Habit (petty)
Spellbook (Control Plants)
Drowning Rod
Mischievous Spirit
Gold: 15
Bonds
Mischievous Spirit: You consumed a Mischievous Spirit that wreaks havoc on your insides, demanding to be taken home, deep in the Wood. It occupies one slot but absorbs one Fatigue each day. It wants you alive (for now).
Omens
The moon turns a deep crimson, bathing the night in an eerie, blood-red light. Some say it heralds a time of chaos and strife, as the boundaries between the Wood and the mortal realm grow thin.
Your Past
Who took you in?
The monks of a secluded forest monastery. When their rules became too strict, and you snuck away. Take a Monk's Habit (warm, petty) and a Spellbook of Control Plants.
What keeps bad tidings at bay?
Drowning Rod: A finger-sized wooden stick that doubles in size each time it is fully submerged in water. It does not shrink down again.