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,
Rosy Skin,
and Curly
Hair. Your Face is
Pale, your
Speech Booming. You have
Filthy Clothing. You are
Courageous and
Rude.
Your age: 34.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 4
Armor: 0
STR: 7
DEX: 14
WIL: 9
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Healing Unguent (1 uses)
Pipeweed (6 uses)
Ornate Compass
Gold: 27
🙛 Bonds
Ornate Compass: A distant cousin left you a small inheritance. Take 20gp, and a strange Compass that always points towards something deep in the Wood.
🙛 Omens
The night sky grows dimmer each evening, as if stars are disappearing one by one. Rumors of hellish creatures capturing farmers and pulling them into the Roots are spreading like wildfire. Village elders believe the two are connected.
🙛 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?
Pipeweed: Your good luck charm. Conversations tend to flow more easily after a smoke. 6 uses.