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 Athletic Physique,
Rosy Skin,
and Filthy
Hair. Your Face is
Broken, your
Speech Squeaky. You have
Antique Clothing. You are
Humble and
Vain.
Your age: 15.
🙛 Attributes
HP: 3
Armor: 0
STR: 14
DEX: 4
WIL: 18
🙛 Equipment (8)
Items:
Rations (3 uses)
Torch (3 uses)
Salt pouch
Heirloom amulet (petty)
Sling (d6)
Dagger (d6)
Healing Unguent (1 uses)
Ivy Worm
Miniature Lute
Gold: 9
🙛 Bonds
Miniature Lute: An entertainer once visited your home, filling it with story and song. He left one day without a word, leaving behind only A Miniature Lute. Something rattles inside.
🙛 Omens
It feels like winter has arrived too quickly this year, frost and snows making their appearance much earlier than expected. There is talk of a pattern to the frost found in windows, ponds, and cracks in the ground. It almost looks like a map.
🙛 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?
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.