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 Towering Physique,
Oily Skin,
and Braided
Hair. Your Face is
Elongated, your
Speech Blunt. You have
Bloody Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Lazy.
Your age: 48.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 4
DEX: 5
WIL: 6
🙛 Equipment (6)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Healing Unguent (1 uses)
Rabbit's Foot (petty)
Rolled-Up Map (petty)
Gold: 13
🙛 Bonds
Rolled-Up Map: A roaming storyteller once spun you tales of great treasure hidden deep in the Wood. You thought it naught but fancy, till they gave you A Rolled-Up Map (petty) marked with an X.
🙛 Omens
Hunters talk of a curse that befalls any who kill a beast with a streak of white fur: soon after, they are found dead in their homes. Each day, there are fewer and fewer creatures to hunt.
🙛 Your Past
Who took you in?
A wizened apothecary, who taught you the healing arts but maintained a clinical detachment. Take a Healing Unguent (restores d4 STR).
What keeps bad tidings at bay?
Rabbit's Foot: You were wearing it when they found you. They say it is the foot of she who left you and that it protects you from witch magic. Petty.