You follow the whisperings of the deep earth, the rhythmic pulse of the mycelium forest that grows beneath the surface. The dark holds no terror for you. Also, you really love mushrooms.
You have a Flabby Physique,
Birthmarked Skin,
and Wispy
Hair. Your Face is
Broken, your
Speech Gravelly. You have
Livery Clothing. You are
Tolerant and
Vain.
Your age: 44.
Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 1
STR: 13
DEX: 11
WIL: 12
Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Sharpened Trowel (d6)
Candle Helmet (+1 Armor, 6 uses)
Rope (25ft)
Metal Pail
Sproutcup (1 uses)
Glowsnail
Letter (petty)
Gold: 13
Bonds
Letter: During your travels, you met a dying hunter who asked you to deliver a message to their loved ones. Take a Letter (petty), sealed with tree sap. It is addressed only to the Lord Of Winter.
Omens
The songbirds of the Wood have fallen eerily silent as of late. Hunters claim that a spectral figure has been spotted wandering the forest, gazing longingly at anyone it encounters.
Your Past
What strange fungus did you discover?
Sproutcup. Ingest to shrink down to the size of a mouse. (Your belongings stay the same size.) You return to normal size within the hour, often in fits and starts. 1 use.
What keeps you sane, even in utter darkness?
Glowsnail. Casts a soft, bioluminescent light. Feeds on one ration every two days.