Your connection to the Life domain grants you the Disciple of Life feature: whenever you use a spell of 1st level or higher to restore hit points to a creature, the creature regains additional hit points equal to 2 + the spell's level.
You learn two cleric cantrips (Guidance and Sacred Flame) and one 1st-level cleric spell (Cure Wounds) from the Magic Initiate feat, castable once per Long Rest without expending a spell slot.
As a Cleric, you can prepare and cast cleric spells using Wisdom as your spellcasting ability. Spell save DC 13, spell attack bonus +5.
You can add your proficiency bonus to Initiative rolls, and you can swap your Initiative with one willing ally in the same combat.
You gain one use of Heroic Inspiration whenever you finish a Long Rest. You can also give it away when you roll Initiative.
You gain proficiency with Calligrapher's Supplies, Insight and Religion, and the Magic Initiate (Cleric) feat.
Bless and Cure Wounds are always prepared for you, and they don't count against your prepared spell total.
You gain proficiency in one skill of your choice (History).
Level 1 Cleric: three 1st-level spell slots per Long Rest. Prepared spells total 4 plus the two Life Domain spells (Bless and Cure Wounds), which are always prepared. Cantrips are cast at will.
You imbue up to three creatures with a blessing. Whenever a target makes an attack roll or a saving throw before the spell ends, the target can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to the attack roll or saving throw.
This spell restores hit points to a creature you touch. The target regains 1d8 + your Wisdom modifier (3) hit points, plus 2 additional hit points from Disciple of Life.
A creature touched regains 1d4 + your Wisdom modifier (3) hit points, plus 2 additional hit points from Disciple of Life. It must be conscious.
You hurl a bolt of light at a creature or object. Ranged spell attack: +5 to hit. On a hit, the target takes 1d8 Radiant damage, or 1d6 if it has cover. The damage increases by 1d8 at 5th level.
Until the start of your next turn, any creature that targets you with an attack or harmful spell must first make a Wisdom saving throw (DC 13). On a successful save, the creature is unaffected, and Sanctuary ends.
You guide a creature toward an activity. The target rolls a d4 and adds the number rolled to an ability check of its choice before the spell ends.
Flame-like radiance descends on a creature you can see within range. The target must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw (DC 13) or take 1d8 Radiant damage, or 1d6 if it has cover, and it cannot benefit from invisibility until the start of your next turn. The damage increases by 1d8 at 5th level.
You manifest a minor wonder: you cause a flame to flare, remain stable, or change colour; you create a harmless tremor in the ground; or you create an instantaneous sound no louder than a whisper.
Behind the character
Sister Corrin Ash, called the Uncorrected, is a human cleric of the Life domain in her late twenties, raised in the temple at Greyharbor and quietly exiled to a country parish for the crime of noticing. She is a woman of warm brown skin and freckled cheeks, with tired, intelligent hazel eyes that never quite stop reading — reading people, reading rooms, reading the margins of other people's books. Her dark auburn hair is pinned beneath a grey wimple trimmed with faded white linen, and she wears a salt-stiff travelling cassock over a chain shirt, a round wooden shield slung across her back.
Her shield bears the painted sigil of the Twelve — twelve small circles around one deliberately scraped-out space. It is the only impertinence she permits herself, and she repainted it herself, and she has not explained it to anyone who might have made her explain.
She carries a heavy iron mace she has never had to swing and a satchel stuffed with loose pages, hymnals, and scraps of parchment covered in careful marginalia: every erasure she has found, cross-referenced against eleven copies of the Borealis scripture. She quotes the exact line. She forgives the person who cut it. She is patient the way stone is patient — not because she does not mind, but because she intends to outlast.
She is genuinely kind, and her kindness is precise: she heals the wound and then asks what caused it. She is more frightened of being wrong than of being hurt, which makes her the most dangerous kind of believer — one who checks the references. Her grief is quiet and constant, the grief of someone who suspects that the faith that raised her has been edited, and who has decided that if it has, she will be the one who reads the original aloud.
Before the adventure
Corrin Ash was born in Greyharbor, the daughter of a rope-maker and a tide-woman who died of salt-sickness when Corrin was nine. She was given to the temple of the Twelve as a foundling in all but name, and Deacon Orwin raised her the way he did everything: carefully, kindly, and without ever looking too hard at the page. He taught her to read the scripture aloud, to copy it beautifully, and to love the sound of a complete sentence. He never once asked her to compare two copies.
She found the first erasure at nineteen. A hymnal in the temple's back shelf had a line about blood scraped down to a line about rain, and the scraping was old but the ink was not. She told no one. She started a private ledger instead, in a hand so small it looks like weathering: every difference she could find between the Cathedral's text and the fragments of older copies that survive in hymnals, funeral rolls, and the margins of prayer books nobody reads.
By twenty-three her ledger held sixty-one contradictions. She showed one to a visiting archivist, politely, as a question. Two weeks later she was reassigned to a country parish with a leaking roof and a congregation of eleven, and she understood that the question had been an answer.
She has spent the years since being exactly as obedient as she can afford to be. She prays, she heals, she keeps the parish rolls, and she collects differences. The Cathedral believes she has been corrected. She has not. When Peg Leg Carl's charter went up in Lordinium, she was already on the coast with a satchel of contradictions, and she signed because the expedition is going where the uncorrected text came from — to the island the scraped lines are about, with the Twelve whose names keep not matching their deeds.
Her faith is real and it is the problem. She does not want to be right about the erasures; she is more frightened of being wrong than of being hurt. She is patient with the people who cut the lines, because she believes most of them were afraid rather than wicked, and that patience is a discipline she maintains the way other people maintain a fast. She forgives the cutter.
She does not forgive the cut. She has begun, quietly and with enormous grief, to suspect that the Twelve she serves are not gods at all but something that has been eating, and that her whole tradition is a menu disguised as a hymnal.
Threads to follow
Beneath the surface
What haunts them
What drives them
Personal quest · 1
Deacon Orwin preaches from a scripture he has never read closely, and his own margin notes mark every omission in a hand he does not recognise. Corrin brings him the pre-Expurgation codex from the Salt Quarter and watches a kind, honest man sit down on the temple step and be quiet for a long time. What Orwin then admits is worse than erasure: the Greyharbor temple's crypt holds the parish's old tithe-rolls, and they list eleven names a year going north, in the same hand that corrected the scripture.
Corrin must open the crypt, read the rolls, and decide whether to break the news to a congregation that has been paying the Choir's price for three generations — and whether a faith built on an edited book can be mended or must be torn down and rebuilt.
Corrin opens the Greyharbor crypt with Deacon Orwin and reads three generations of tithe-rolls in the hand that corrected the scripture.
Personal quest · 2
Sister Ivane, shipwrecked on the Weeping Firth, recognises the chant written phonetically in the Sable Queen's logbook margin: it is a hymn of the Twelve that was struck from the liturgy — the hymn that carries a ship through the fog. Corrin has been collecting struck hymns for years without knowing what they were for. She must transcribe the chant from Ivane's failing memory and the waterlogged page, decide whether it is a rite too dangerous to perform or a key the Church threw away, and then choose who sings it first: the party's pilot, herself, or no one.
Corrin transcribes the chant from Ivane's failing memory and the waterlogged page, and decides what a struck hymn is for.
Personal quest · 3
Corrin's mother died of salt-sickness in Greyharbor when Corrin was nine, the same year the tithe-rolls in the crypt begin. Corrin has never checked whether her mother's name is among them, because she is more frightened of being wrong than of being hurt — and because if the name is there, then her whole life has been paid for. She must search the rolls, the parish death register, and the memories of the Grey Gull's oldest drinkers, and find out what happened to a rope-maker's wife in the year the eleven names started going north.
Corrin searches the rolls, the death register, and the Grey Gull's memory for a rope-maker's wife in the year the names began going north.
Reading the rolls aloud reforms the temple from its own margin notes but brands Corrin a heretic before the Cathedral; sealing them keeps her credentials intact and her conscience not.
Read aloud: Corrin gains the feature 'Voice of the Uncorrected' — once per day, when she casts a spell that restores hit points, she may also grant the target advantage on their next saving throw, as her word carries the weight of true testimony. Sealed away: she keeps Cathedral standing but loses the ability to learn the breaking rite from Deacon Orwin's confession, and the tithe-rolls burn when the Choir comes for them.
The chant carries a ship through the fog; the fog is a lid, and what it covers is listening.
Teaching the chant: Corrin learns 'Hymn of the Turning Tide' — a ritual she can perform at the turn of the tide granting the party's vessel advantage on all navigation checks for one crossing, but each use draws the attention of something under the fog. Refusing: she instead gains 'Discern Erasure' — she can always tell when a text, inscription, or spoken oath has been altered, no check required.
The Twelve were not gods but the first of the Seven Nations, made unaging by the tithe. The Thirteenth refused and was bound. Someone must decide what happens to the arithmetic.
Rebuilding: Corrin gains 'Blessing of the Twelve Reforged' — her Disciple of Life bonus increases by her proficiency bonus, and she can cast Bless without expending a slot once per long rest. Renouncing: she loses all domain spells permanently but gains 'The Uncorrected Word' — she can cast any cleric spell she has read in the pre-Expurgation codex once each, using her own hit points as the cost. Volunteering: she becomes bound to Borealis as the Thirteenth was bound — immortal, island-bound, and the campaign's epilogue changes forever.
Corrin reads the pre-Expurgation codex from the Drowned Archive and confirms that the word 'tithe' was scraped to 'prayer' in every copy she has ever touched — and that the marginal note in a stranger's hand, 'They did not take his power. They took his name,' is in the same hand that corrected the scripture.
From a frightened scholar hiding her heresy in a satchel to a priest who has read the original and will not put it down. Her kindness sharpens into something harder: she forgives the cutter, but she has stopped forgiving the cut.
Adds 'Reader of Two Copies' — Corrin has advantage on Religion and History checks concerning the Borealis scripture, the Hollow Choir, or any text she suspects has been altered, and she can detect magical alteration of writing within 10 feet as a bonus action.
Adds 'Sanctuary of the Honest Word' — once per long rest, when Corrin casts Sanctuary, creatures failing the save are also unable to speak a lie while the sanctuary holds.
Ally
Orwin raised Corrin from the age of nine at the Greyharbor temple, teaching her to read the scripture aloud, to copy it beautifully, and to love the sound of a complete sentence. He never once asked her to compare two copies, and she has never stopped wondering whether that was kindness or instruction. He preached to nine people on a good week, kept the parish rolls immaculately, and was the only adult who ever asked her what she was reading rather than what she was doing.
When the Cathedral exiled her to the country parish, he wrote to her every month, and she kept every letter — partly for the warmth, partly because his letters were full of margin notes in a hand he did not recognise, marking omissions he could feel but not name. He is kind, honest, and has never read his own scripture closely enough to notice what is missing from it, and he knows now that she has. Showing him the codex is the bravest thing she has ever done, because if he tells her she is wrong, she will have to believe him.
Enemy
Corrin's private ledger contains samples of the hand that corrected the scripture from three different temples, and that hand belongs to Mother Sable. Sable has spent thirty years scraping the tithe from every copy of the Borealis scripture because she believes, sincerely and correctly, that if anyone ever reads the rites whole, someone will perform them. Corrin is the someone. Sable does not want Corrin dead — she wants her corrected, or silenced by law, or made a copyist.
She will use the harbour watch, a locked door, a legal writ, and tea. Corrin, for her part, has already copied the tithe rite itself and carries it sewn into the hem of her cassock, which is exactly the crime the Choir exists to prevent. Each of them is the other's proof: Sable is the hand that cut the lines, and Corrin is the reader the cuts were made for. They have never met, and each knows the other's work intimately.
Faction
Corrin is an Acolyte of the Cathedral of the Twelve in good standing — technically. She was trained at Greyharbor, holds the Life domain, and has never been formally disciplined, only 'reassigned' to a country parish with a leaking roof after she showed a visiting archivist one of her sixty-one erasures. The Cathedral believes she has been corrected. She has not. Her relationship with the institution is the relationship of a daughter with a parent she has caught lying: she cannot leave it without losing the language she thinks in, and she cannot stay in it without becoming complicit.
The Hollow Choir operates inside the Cathedral and regards her satchel of contradictions as a catastrophe waiting to be published; three of its clerks are on the Crown's payroll and one of its agents books a room in Greyharbor the night before every ship is lost. Corrin's standing gives her access to temple crypts, parish rolls, and the benefit of the doubt — and it makes her, the moment she publishes the codex, a heretic with the Church's own credentials.
Join thousands of players and create rich, detailed character backgrounds with Fable Fiesta!
Register to unlock personal quests, relationships, and narrative hooks!
Sign Up Now - It's Free!No credit card required. Start creating in minutes!