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 Scrawny Physique,
Rosy Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Sunken, your
Speech Whispery. You have
Frumpy Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Bitter.
Your age: 44.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 17
DEX: 12
WIL: 12
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Storybook
Ivy Worm
Silver Moss (petty)
Gold: 5
🙛 Bonds
Silver Moss: You once freed a Naiad from a choked stream. In return, it gave you some Silver Moss (petty). Swallow it near water and the creature will come, once, to repay its debt.
🙛 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.
🙛 Your Past
Who took you in?
A troupe of traveling entertainers. For a time, they were like family to you. One day you woke up and they were gone with no explanation. Take a Storybook, a Dagger (d6), and some burning questions.
What keeps bad tidings at bay?
Ivy Worm: A green worm often mistaken for a weed. Swallowed whole, it absorbs any toxins or rot in the body before exiting through the usual way.