┌NAME──────────────────────────────────┬────────────────────┐
│ Sileas                               │                    │
├BACKGROUND────────────────────────────┤                    │
│ Foundling                            │                    │
├ABILITIES┬─────────┬─────────┬────────┤                    │
│         │         │         │        │                    │
│         │         │         │        │                    │
│         │         │         │        │                    │
│      10 │      14 │       4 │ HP:  1 │                    │
├─────────┴┬───┬────┴──┬───┬──┴───┬────┤                    │
│ DEPRIVED │   │ ARMOR │   │ GOLD │ 10 │                    │
└──────────┴───┴───────┴───┴──────┴────┴────────────────────┘
┌TRAITS────────────────┬─────────────────────────┬──────────┐
│ Physique: Short      │ Speech: Gravelly        │ Age: 46  │
│ Skin: Tattooed       │ Clothing: Foreign       ├──────────┤
│ Hair: Wispy          │ Virtue: Ambitious       │          │
│ Face: Bony           │ Vice: Rude              │          │
├BONDS─────────────────┴─────────────────────────┴──────────┤
│ You inherited a Single Gem (500gp, cold and brittle) from │
│ a long-dead relative. It arrived with a warning: squander │
│ your newfound riches and a debt long thought forgotten    │
│ would be called.                                          │
│                                                           │
├OMENS──────────────────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Border towns have become riotous in recent weeks, after   │
│ multiple claims of a red-robed figure appearing in their  │
│ children’s dreams, uttering the same warning: A fire is   │
│ coming, and it will consume them all.                     │
│                                                           │
└───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘
An odd birthmark, a strange smell: somehow, the touch of elsewhere still lingers. You’ll never fit in, at least not where you’re at. Roll on the Omens table, but keep the results private for now.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Who took you in?
A gruff blacksmith from a sleepy river town. You were always kept at arm’s length. Now the forge is cold, and you’ve moved on. Take a Smith’s Hammer (d6) and a set of Oft-mended Chain Mail (2 Armor, bulky).
What keeps away bad tidings?
Stink Jar Shattering this jar releases an odor so foul all nearby must make a STR save or immediately vomit. 1 use.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Salt pouch, Heirloom amulet (petty, glows in the presence of magic), Sling (d6), Dagger (d6)