"Undead!"<br/><br/>An elf in clerical vestments, heretofore sitting peacefully in a darkened part of the tavern, springs forward toward the beautiful woman and much, much less beautiful man.  He carries a bow and quiver and holds in his hand a spear, held like a walking stick, and carries himself with a sense of regal self-importance even for an elf.<br/><br/>"My dear cousin Daric was slain by a walking skeleton in these very parts not three days ago!  I shall accompany the dear lady, and together we shall avenge his fallen blood!"  He takes the woman's hand and bows his head, kissing her hand in greeting.  "I am the Prince-Cleric Astos, at your service."