The Isle of Inishbradden

FIVE CENTURIES AGO, the Mists descended on Inishbradden for the first time; a cloak of ghostly grey, bathing the island in nightly luminescence. It appears each night in perfect time with the rising of the moon; few now dare enter its cold embrace, for fear of foul magic and the fae of folklore.

FIVE DECADES AGO, the current Countess of Ember ascended to the island's seat of power, her laws harsh and temper harsher. Never since has she appeared in public without her mask of iron, her work done only through ambassadors and intercessors.

FIVE YEARS AGO, ships stopped coming from the Mainland. Never a bustling trading post, the Isle is now cut off entirely from contact with the world beyond, with no sign of resupply from off the island in sight. No longer does the Crown seem to maintain any interest in keeping the Isle under its domain; not a single expedition from the island has returned since.

FIVE DAYS AGO, reports came from farms to the north of the mysterious disappearance of an entire village. Not a soul remains, animal or human—and the Countess's Guard are far from eager to investigate.

FIVE MINUTES AGO, you were roused from your slumber on the bare stone floor of your cell, and given an ultimatum: death, or freedom, in return for service rendered. The latter means trekking out into the Mist, to discover what really happened to that village

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image by me

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Each night on Inishbradden, every door on the Isle is bolted, every window firmly shuttered, people of every age safely indoors. With the moon comes the Mist, and with the mist creatures fit for no mortal eyes. Every family on the Isle claims heritage lasting centuries; as far as anyone remembers, the Countess's family has always ruled.

You are a prisoner. You violated the law of the land, and for it you pay the price; it seems that that price might well be greater than you ever imagined. You don't have a choice. You've got to do it, and pray to the Bladed Lord you'll make it through.

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Black Alchemist:
You worked outside the law, operating without license and with secrecy assured. One of your clients ratted you out; you've had plenty of time to think about who it was.
Start with: a roll of bandage fashioned from an old gaol uniform, a small pouch of salt, iron, and blessed ashes
Perk: with a minute's close inspection, you have a 4-in-6 chance of correctly identifying any plant or mysterious substance. with ten, it becomes 6-in-6.

Drunkard:
You spent more nights at the pub than you did at home. The Day Watch finally decided to drag you in for nuisancy after some particularly well-placed public urination.
Start with: a smuggled flask of whiskey, impossible to find on your person unless you allow it
Perk: you have advantage on Saves against ill effects from consuming food or drink

Arsonist:
From an early age, you had a special fondness for starting fires. The Brotherhood of the Hallowed Sword caught you behind one of their chapels; your time in the Guards' custody has been a breeze in comparison.
Start with: an all-weather fire-starter, a burning desire to take out your anger on your surroundings
Perk: with an hour of preparation and access to suitably flammable materials, you can fashion an explosive device with a fuse of however long you wish

Charlatan:
You made your living running confidence games on the Isle's up-and-coming elites, offering investments and trade opportunities that never made themselves manifest. You defrauded the wrong person, and you've spent the time since plotting how you might escape your confines.
Start with: a "friend" in any town you visit, a trustworthy smile
Perk: you can affect any accent or demeanour you so desire; proper imitation demands proper study

Pickpocket:
You survived on deft fingers and quick thinking, until one day you couldn't think quite quick enough. You were expecting a severed hand; mist-catching is almost preferable to you.
Start with: a short piece of metal, fashioned into a miniature blade, a token to remember a loved one by
Perk: you can hide from view on your person anything that would fit in your palm, and you  perform sleight of hand well enough to impress and distract any layperson for a moment

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FIVEs format shamelessly stolen from the pre-eminent Lexi of A Blasted, Crated Land.