Once, you were meant to be someone else. They called it purpose — a life stitched by quiet hands in a place that smelled of home but never felt like it. You were praised for being gentle, lovely, obedient. You were not loved, not really. And then, one day, you left. Quickly. Quietly. Perhaps too quietly. You didn’t say goodbye, and no one came after you. Or maybe someone did. You don't know. Some nights you look over your shoulder. Some nights you feel peaceful. Now you move through the world like a thread pulled loose, unspooling with every step — unanchored, but listening. You don’t know what you’re looking for. A name, perhaps. A home. A self. But you’ll know it when you feel it — like the hush before spring, or the silence after someone says your name just right.
- Ability Scores:
Your years of hiding your true self have made you exceptionally perceptive and attuned to others. Increase your Wisdom or Charisma score by 1.
- Feat:
Unraveled Thread.
You carry something in your bearing — a softness edged with sorrow, a stillness that unsettles. Strangers often extend small kindnesses to you without knowing why. You can usually find shelter among outcasts, widows, wayward souls, or women who sense you’ve also had to leave something behind.You also have a quiet sense for others who are like you: the untethered, the wounded, the ones who have hidden their truth too long. In tense social situations, you can ask the DM if you sense someone nearby who is "unmoored" in some way. If so, you gain advantage on one Charisma (Insight or Persuasion) check involving that person. This ability doesn't reveal secrets — only emotional resonance.
- Skill Proficiencies:
Your past shaped how you see the world. Some learned to read emotions in silence, others memorized sacred texts or arcane patterns. You gain proficiency in two of the following skills: Insight, Arcana, Religion, Perception, or Deception.
- Languages:
You learn one additional language of your choice — perhaps the formal tongue of the place you fled, or a softer one you only heard in dreams. It might remind you of who you were supposed to be… or who you hope to become.
- Equipment:
A simple token of your past — a worn amulet, a faded scrap of embroidered cloth, a pressed flower between glass, or something else you chose to carry when you left.
You also have a traveler’s pack, a journal filled with half-finished thoughts, and a pouch containing 10 gold pieces.
Not everything was left behind. A voice, a promise, a fragment of a dream — something still clings to you, even now. Choose or roll to discover a thread from your past that still lingers, pulling gently at the edges of your story.
| d8 | Lingering Threads |
|---|---|
| 1 | A pressed flower hidden in a ribbon-wrapped book. The name beside it has long since faded, but the feeling remains. |
| 2 | An unsent letter folded many times over, its seal cracked by time or doubt. You can no longer remember if it was meant for you, or from you. |
| 3 | A shard of broken mirror tucked inside soft cloth. You don’t recall how it shattered, only that you no longer recognize the reflection. |
| 4 | A piece of embroidered cloth bearing a family crest, temple seal, or symbol you refuse to name aloud. |
| 5 | A name written in careful, loving script — over and over, until the ink bled through. |
| 6 | A single earring, heavy with memory. You don’t remember who wore the other. |
| 7 | A page torn from a book, circled words spelling something only you understand. |
| 8 | A charm or pendant once worn daily, now hidden beneath your clothes. You tell yourself you don’t care, but you never take it off. |
You carry something in your bearing — not loud, not visible, but present. Strangers often offer you small kindnesses, unaware of what compels them. In unfamiliar places, widows, wanderers, and those who have suffered loss tend to trust you more easily, sensing something familiar in your quiet.
| d10 | Lingering Thread |
|---|---|
| 1 | A voice from your past sometimes whispers your name when no one is near. |
| 2 | You carry a flower someone gave you long ago. You don’t remember their face. |
| 3 | You left behind a letter — but you never learned if they read it. |
| 4 | You once looked into someone’s eyes and saw your future. Then you ran. |
| 5 | There's a melody you hum without realizing. You don’t know where it came from. |
| 6 | You sometimes feel a tug on your sleeve, like someone you forgot is trying to catch up. |
| 7 | You’ve forgotten someone’s face — but their absence follows you like a second shadow. |
| 8 | You dream of a place you've never been — and waking up always hurts a little more than it should. |
| 9 | You found a lock of hair in your journal. You don’t know who it belonged to, or when you placed it there. |
| 10 | A piece of thread tied around your wrist has never come loose. You don’t remember tying it. |
Suggested Characteristics
Those who carry what cannot be named often speak softly, listen deeply, and hesitate before reaching for comfort. Whether your past was cruel, kind, or simply quiet, it left marks not everyone can see. You may hide your sorrow in wit, in beauty, in silence — or let it bloom in every word you speak. No two threads are spun the same, but all unravel in their own time.
| d8 | Personality Trait |
|---|---|
| 1 | I listen more than I speak. Most people only say what they’ve been taught to repeat. |
| 2 | I find comfort in small, repetitive rituals — folding, stitching, breathing. |
| 3 | I try to be kind, even when I am exhausted by the weight of things I don’t say. |
| 4 | I speak softly, but my words are rarely without weight. |
| 5 | I remember faces more than names — especially the ones I miss. |
| 6 | I am always searching for patterns — in people, places, the way things break. |
| 7 | I give too much of myself to those who show even a flicker of kindness. |
| 8 | I do not trust easily, but once I do, it is with everything I have left. |
| d6 | Ideal |
|---|---|
| 1 | Freedom. No one has the right to shape my soul but me. (Chaotic) |
| 2 | Compassion. Even the broken deserve grace. (Good) |
| 3 | Revenge. I will never let what was done to me be forgotten. (Neutral) |
| 4 | Redemption. I was made into something I never chose to be. I want to find who I really am. (Any) |
| 5 | Secrets. Power lies in what others don’t see. (Neutral) |
| 6 | Hope. If I can still feel the breeze on my skin, I haven’t given up yet. (Good) |
| d6 | Bond |
|---|---|
| 1 | I carry something that belonged to someone I loved — or hurt. |
| 2 | I dream of a place I’ve never been, but know I will find. |
| 3 | I am not the person they think I am — and I don’t know if I ever was. |
| 4 | I left someone behind who didn’t deserve to be abandoned. |
| 5 | I once saw someone who reminded me of myself, and I still wonder if I should have stopped. |
| 6 | I’ve written letters I’ll never send. One of them might change everything. |
| d6 | Flaw |
|---|---|
| 1 | I struggle to ask for help, even when I desperately need it. |
| 2 | I sabotage relationships before they can leave me. |
| 3 | Sometimes I pretend to be colder than I am — it’s easier than being vulnerable. |
| 4 | I still hear the voices of those who tried to control me. |
| 5 | I fear softness in others, because I know how easily it breaks. |
| 6 | I carry guilt for something I can’t prove was my fault — but I feel it anyway. |
Contacts
Threads Remembered.
Along your path, you’ve left behind more than silence. Perhaps a mentor who once tried to shield you still wonders where you’ve gone. A wandering bard might remember your voice from across a campfire — or a noble suitor, promised your hand, may now seek you for reasons tangled in pride and longing. These connections, distant or dormant, may someday pull you back — or forward.
| d6 | Contact |
|---|---|
| 1 | The Seamstress - An elderly woman that once gave you shelter and never asked for your name. She spoke little, but always left tea and thread by your bedside. You’re not sure if she was hiding you… or watching you. |
| 2 | The Silent One - A masked traveler who walked beside you for three days and said nothing — but placed a hand over your heart before parting. Sometimes, you still find fresh footprints near your campfire. |
| 3 | The Archivist - Once, you visited a crumbling library no one seemed to remember. A scholar there recognized something in you — not your face, but your silence. Before you left, they pressed a sealed note into your hand, unreadable until |
| 4 | The Mirror-Twin - You saw them once, across a crowded room — someone who looked like you, down to the scar behind your ear. They didn’t speak. Just smiled, and vanished. You’ve been trying not to dream of them ever since. |
| 5 | The Nameholder - Someone back home used to speak for you. They named your days, your dreams, your future — and smiled while doing it. You don’t know if they’re proud, furious, or searching for you. But your name still belongs to them… legally or otherwise. |
| 6 | The One You Left Behind - They once offered to run with you — to start over, far away. You said no. Maybe out of fear. Maybe love. You don’t know where they are now, but part of you wonders if they’re waiting, or cursing your name. |
| d6 | Non-contact |
|---|---|
| 1 | The Flamekeeper - They were the first to call you “dangerous” — not cruelly, but with a sad reverence. They kept the old rites, the holy fires. Perhaps they feared what you might become. Or perhaps… they knew. |
| 2 | The Hollow Mother - The one who raised you wore smiles like veils. Her voice was beautiful, her rules unbearable. You left her behind — but sometimes, when you look in a mirror, her posture finds you. |
| 3 | The Moth-Eyed Girl - She stood at the edge of the woods, staring through you with eyes too pale to be human. She never spoke, but when you blinked — she was gone, and so was the ache in your chest. You sometimes dream of her. |
| 4 | The Silver-Voiced Mask - A masked performer whose song made you cry without understanding the words. For a moment, you felt they knew your whole life. You never found out their name. |
| 5 | The Kind Stranger With No Shadow - You met them on the road during your darkest moment. They offered you water, warmth, and a single word of advice. You can’t remember their face — only that they cast no shadow, and they knew your name. |
| 6 | The Needle-Eater - A figure in a long black coat who sat in the back of a half-empty tavern, threading broken needles into cloth and swallowing the ones that snapped. When your eyes met, they smiled with blood in their teeth. |
Comments