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 Rugged Physique, Weathered Skin, and Curly Hair. Your Face is Bony, your Speech Blunt. You have Antique Clothing. You are Merciful and Aggressive.
Your age: 27.
Attributes
HP: 5
Armor: 2
STR: 17
DEX: 6
WIL: 9
Equipment (9)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Smith's Apron (petty)
Oft-mended Chain Mail (2 Armor, bulky)
Ivy Worm
Single Gem
Gold: 9
Bonds
Single Gem: You inherited a Single Gem (500gp, cold and brittle) from a long-dead relative. It arrived with a warning: squander your newfound riches, and a debt long thought forgotten would be called.
Omens
Statues have been weeping blood for months on end, and the wombs of the village have lain barren since they began to fall. A single child has been the only exception, taken by elders overcome with fear and dread.
Your Past
Who took you in?
A gruff blacksmith from a sleepy river town. You were always kept at arm's length. Now the forge is cold, and you've moved on. Take a Smith's Apron (petty) and a set of Oft-mended Chain Mail (2 Armor, bulky).
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.