<div align="center">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7a/9f/0e/7a9f0eb7ffe71c8cf780e0e2cdf1fef3.jpg)</div><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e4/3e/3a/e43e3a6106d104b673cedaf9c6ee940b.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;"><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;">Caretaker</span></strong></span><br/>Unknown<br/><hr/><br/><strong>@SHARA</strong>, within a copse of trees, you finally come upon a graveyard.  Though it is midday, the air here is misty and heavy.  With the heat, one would even say that it is soupy.  A decrepit old man, his eyes filmy with puss, his hair matted and strewn over a sunburnt face, works almost tirelessly shoveling dirt.<br/><br/>He turns to look at you and sneers.<br/><br/>"It is too early for you to be here," he said, hissing.