The redhead whispered some encouraging words to the men wrestling with the solid gold statue of the queen from the town square.  “Take care, my lords.  The statue must not be marred.”<br/><br/>Padding down the plank, she looked out over the darkened island, then up to the quietly smoking conical volcano at the center.  “Well,” she whispered, “This won’t do.”<br/><br/>She pressed her hands together over her heart and chanted quietly, trying to will a ball of light into existence that she would then release to hover over her shoulder.<br/><br/>Spellcasting: 12<br/>