<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/gNwY8ZO.jpg)</div><strong>Seras Goreev</strong><br/>Human Fighter - Lvl 1<br/><strong>HP</strong>:  25 / 25<br/><strong>XP</strong>:  1 / 8<br/><strong>Conditions</strong>:  None<hr/>"Yeah, it is." Seras responded, looking back towards Isma as the colorful jester was pouring a bottle of oil into the open coffin, "If there were some kind of pervasive balancing force in the world, there wouldn't be any Warsworn at all.  We wouldn't be able to function in such a paradigm."  she might've been trying to sound reasonable, but there was a bit of heat in her voice that suggested Isma had brushed up against a sore topic with the diminutive warrior.<br/><br/>"Hmph, it's just as likely our audience is a side effect of whatever's prowling around out here, or that you two stirred up the dead with your disrespectful grab-assing." she watched Isma's back as the flickering flame of a struck match burst to life and was dropped into the coffin.  It was more or less what Seras herself would have done, really, but she doubted the creature skulking about would allow it happen uncontested.  So, she waited for a sign of its movement: a shadow, a rustle in the grass, anything that might tip its hand.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Preparing to <strong>Defend</strong> Isma if necessary</div></div>