Druids · The Wild · Citizen 058

Reddie

the Redcap

Druid · Circle of the Merry Harvest

The Sheet

STR

-1

DEX

CON

INT

WIS

CHA

Affinity Venom & Vapor Ward Hearthfire Bane Vigil

Proficiencies Nature · Sleight of Hand · Medicine · Deception (bold = expertise)

Druid · Circle of the Merry Harvest

Forager of the pretty poisons. Knows exactly which cap kills, which cures, and which just makes the evening interesting — and never confuses them. Publicly.

✦

The Ladder

What they learn

LV 1

Forager's Eye Identify any plant, cap, or berry on sight — edible, remedy, or regret, and how much of each.

LV 3

One for the Basket Once per scene, produce exactly the specimen the moment calls for; you picked it this morning, apparently.

LV 6

The Kind Dose Your poisons pull their punch to the ounce — sleep, stumble, or a truth-loosened tongue, never worse than you meant.

LV 10

Feast and Famine 1/story, season a shared meal: every friend at the table is mended and heartened; every liar at it finds the food disagrees with the lie.

✦

For the Guide

How to run Reddie

VoiceA wink you can hear. Talks through the bandana; the bandana is doing load-bearing work.

WantsTo be invited to every table. To be trusted anyway. To find, someday, a cap she doesn't recognize.

Do this nowThe Redcap provides — the mushroom that saves the night, offered with a smile that raises exactly one reasonable question. “It's perfectly safe. I picked it with my eyes open. Eye.” Half the Kingdom's kitchens ban her; all of them consult her. The one specimen she keeps and will not trade sits in her satchel, wrapped twice: the little red cap that grew, one morning, on the outside face of the wall — where nothing grows, from a spore no wind inside could have carried. Canon open; raised to the Merry Harvest. Fights best beside — The Thicket, and the Elixir-Sworn — she picks it, he brews it, and the Elixir-Sworn insists, gallantly, on testing it.

“It's perfectly safe. I picked it with my eyes open. Eye.”

Half the Kingdom's kitchens ban her; all of them consult her. The one specimen she keeps and will not trade sits in her satchel, wrapped twice: the little red cap that grew, one morning, on the outside face of the wall — where nothing grows, from a spore no wind inside could have carried. Canon open; raised to the Merry Harvest.

Fights best beside The Thicket, and the Elixir-Sworn — she picks it, he brews it, and the Elixir-Sworn insists, gallantly, on testing

✦