<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1b/b2/a7/1bb2a7e9077ca39fae028cc8a5bafd90.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Lady Amanda Caithwaine<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Path to the Restlands<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Adina<br/><strong>Active Effects:</strong>Detect Evil<br/><strong>Initiative:</strong>+4<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stats</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>HP:</strong> 11 / 11 | <strong>AC:</strong> 17 (T: 12, FF: 15) | <strong>CMD:</strong> 16<br/><strong>Speed:</strong> 20 | <strong>Perception Bonus:</strong> +6</div></div><hr/><br/>It took a moment for Amanda to realize the reason for the disquiet; the missed step and awkward shifting of the others as they looked ahead.  She'd been walking slowly, eyes down, quietly repeating the litany that would help a soul on its journey to the spirit-lands.  It was not lost on her, as she carried her childhood friend toward his grave, that her steps carried her ever closer to her own as well.<br/><br/>Despite the private sense of impending doom clawing its way around her chest, she was outwardly content.  Others were obviously unhappy with the mud and wet, but the dirt was nothing unusual to a child of the half-wild Vale and the cool drops of rain were actually a bit delightful.  Amanda herself seemed to almost glow a bit, a sense of goodness and gravitas that weren't quite palpable.  Or maybe it was; even after travel, rain, mud and labor her hair was, at worst, "artfully disheveled."  It didn't even get in her eyes as she looked up at the torch-wielding group.<br/><br/>She leaned forward, whispering to the sickly-looking girl in front of her.  "Are we supposed to be meeting someone?"  Her brow creased slightly, out of habit, as she looked over the group ahead to gauge their intent both from their physical forms and behavior as well as their spiritual feel.<br/><br/>[Detecting Evil, as well as looking them over for motive, weapons, insignia, etc]