<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=332279.msg15864074#msg15864074">Quote from: PhantomPistoleer on 24-05-2021, 15:29:14</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><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.<br/></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/29/Guardian_Druidess.png)</div><hr/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;">Shara, the Bog-Druid (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=332178.msg15843903#msg15843903)</span></strong></span><br/><hr/><em>Lvl 4 Human Female Druid</em><br/><strong>HP:</strong>40<br/><strong>AC:</strong>16<br/><strong>Standard Perception:</strong>12<hr/><div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/j3uhQUr.png)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Khaldrash 'the Beast'<br/></span></span><hr/><em>Lvl 4 Male Orc Fighter (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2446632)</em><br/><strong>HP:</strong>56<br/><strong>AC:</strong>22<br/><strong>Standard Perception:</strong>+0<br/><hr/>Sweat beading on her skin, Shara had led the way in to the muggy, humid copse.  The heavy air, the soft earth, the weight of death all atteacted her.<br/><br/><em>This feels ... close to home.</em><br/><br/>When the blind, weathered<strong>caretaker</strong>spoke to her, sneering, she remained unphased. After all,<em>everyone</em>had sneered at her as long as she could remember - well, perhaps not the older memories, but, if she'd had the thought she wouldn't have been sure that she remembered any<em>people</em>in those.<br/><br/>"Too early or too late? Is it because I'm not dead again?"* she asked, announcing herself into the gloam to the busy, blind figure.  She circled the copse, watching his work and examining the plantlife, the crawling things, the carrior-eaters; always looking for ingredients.  "I know a dark lady, good with the dead.  We could maybe make your work easier; softer earth, fewer bodies."*  She frowned at herself. "I'm not allowed to speak for her though.  My name is Shara," she concluded, having remembered to ... disclaim authority and offer her name.<hr/><strong>GM note:</strong>Four components, red asterisk denotes a question directed at the Caretaker:<ul class="bbc_list" style="list-style-type: decimal;"><li>Ingredient survey</li><li>*Prompt about too early - what does that mean? - in Shara's way.</li><li>*Feeling out potential engagement, and offering to employ <em>Soften Earth and Stone</em> on his behalf. And/or invite a necromancer.</li><li>Disclaimed authority, offered name. Seemed polite.</li></ul>