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 Lanky Physique,
Weathered Skin,
and Frizzy
Hair. Your Face is
Sharp, your
Speech Blunt. You have
Elegant Clothing. You are
Disciplined and
Vengeful.
Your age: 42.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 2
Armor: 0
STR: 3
DEX: 8
WIL: 10
🙛 Equipment (7)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Gnarled Staff (d8)
Ivy Worm
Silver Moss (petty)
Gold: 14
🙛 Bonds
Silver Moss: You once freed a Naiad from a choked stream. In return, it gave you some Silver Moss (petty). Swallow it near water and the creature will come, once, to repay its debt.
🙛 Omens
A thick, unnatural fog has begun encroaching upon an ancient and holy grove. It is said to be the work of a great forest spirit, angered by nearby deforestation.
🙛 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.