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 Stout Physique,
Tanned Skin,
and Oily
Hair. Your Face is
Elongated, your
Speech Droning. You have
Frayed Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Deceitful.
Your age: 48.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 9
DEX: 14
WIL: 11
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Gnarled Staff (d8)
Ivy Worm
Letter (petty)
Gold: 7
🙛 Bonds
Letter: You received a Letter (petty) detailing incontrovertible proof that your true parentage is that of Fae nobility. The note also indicates a date and location where you are to meet them, deep in the the Wood.
🙛 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?
A druid, who taught you the language of trees. When it came time to leave, you took with you only a Gnarled Staff (d8) and left a promise that one day you would return.
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.