Born of both the mortal world and the unseen, you are an enigma to some and feared by many. Yours is the tale of what happens when two worlds collide.
You have a Short Physique,
Tattooed Skin,
and Luxurious
Hair. Your Face is
Bony, your
Speech Stuttering. You have
Elegant Clothing. You are
Cautious and
Craven.
Your age: 17.
π Attributes
HP: 6
Armor: 0
STR: 10
DEX: 10
WIL: 11
π Equipment (10)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Spellbook (Thicket)
Iron Dagger (d6)
Herbs Pouch (3 uses)
Ghillie Suit
Black Rose Fiddle (bulky)
Hawthorn Seed (1 uses)
Journal
Gold: 10
π Bonds
Journal: You inherited an old Journal, bound in bark. Each evening, its pages are filled with the events of the day, crassly from the journalβs perspective. The writing is crude, but accurate.
π Omens
Swarms of insects are fleeing from the Wood in droves, destroying any wooden structures they come across. The sound of their wings hum a familiar tune as they pass overhead, like a forgotten nursery rhyme.
π Your Past
What did you bring back from the Unseelie Court?
A Black Rose Fiddle (bulky). Its music causes intense sadness and immobility in nearby mortals. (Others are merely fascinated.) You don't know how to play.
What concoction do you carry, and what rare ingredients did you gather to make it?
Hawthorn Seed: An acorn from the other side, gathered on the spring equinox. When planted, it sprouts a luxurious shelter, collapsing at moonrise the next day. 1 use.