<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/b/bb/Adina.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Adina Vasilescu<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Path to the Restlands<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>The Funeral Procession<br/><strong>Active Effects:</strong>None<br/><strong>Initiative:</strong>+5<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stats</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>HP:</strong> 8 / 8 | <strong>AC:</strong> 18 (T: 13, FF: 15) | <strong>CMD:</strong> 14<br/><strong>Speed:</strong> 20 ft. | <strong>Perception Bonus:</strong> +8<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spells (if you have them)</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Spells Per Day:</strong> Level 1: 2/2<br/><strong>Known Spells:</strong> <br/>  Level 1: Magic Weapon, Weapons Against Evil<br/>  Level 0: Brand, Detect Magic, Disrupt Undead, Stabilize<br/></div></div></div></div><hr/>At the best of times Adina Vasilescu looked unwell.  She was short in height and sleight of frame, with skin so pale it seemed as though she had never seen the sun, and bags under her amber eyes.  Her pale blonde, nearly white hair, kept pulled back into a loose ponytail by a black ribbon, contributed to her washed out appearance, emphasizing just how pale and wan she looked.  This day was not the best of days.<br/><br/>When she received word of Professor Lorrimor's death she hadn't wanted to believe it.  Her time with him had been short, and he hadn't been a young man, but his genuine gratitude at being rescued from a pack of ghouls had been some of the most positive attention she had received in more than a century of life.  Adina hadn't known what to do with it, but she had dreamed of other's appreciating her efforts sometimes the way that he had, and the fact that he really had cared was driven home by her sudden inclusion in his will.  More than anything she wished that she had taken him up on his offers to visit instead of staying far away from Ravengro.<br/><br/>She had barely rested to make it in time for the funeral, sleep eluding her as she spent each night on her knees, praying desperately for the both the soul of the kind man, and for repentance for her own monstrous nature.  The curse that her undead father passed down to her sat particularly heavy since the letter had arrived, her own unnatural lifespan reminding her once more how much an affront to Pharasma her very existence was.  She hadn't even bothered to speak with anyone on the ferry, spending every moment the trip clutching her worn, fading holy symbol as she knelt in prayer, rocking with more than just the motions of the boat.<br/><br/>She volunteered to be a pall bearer, and despite the obvious misgivings of the priest she was able to easily lift her side, her height requiring her to hold her section just above her shoulders.  Stepping out into the cold rain she carefully adjusted her leather cap and smoothed her armored coat around her slim frame before returning her off hand to the coffin.  She welcomed the cold, miserable weather as it perfectly captured her mood, new lines of poetry already forming in her mind to write that evening when she found somewhere to stay for the night.<br/><br/>She was so tired she almost didn't notice the people ahead.  She frowned slightly, not sure who could be in the Restlands ahead of the procession, and despite her exhaustion she tried to focus, hoping that no one was trying to disrupt the funeral.  If there was a problem she at least had her mace, shield, and crossbow with her, although she would need to set the coffin down first.<br/><br/>She blinked back exhaustion, shaking away the dark paths her sleep deprived brain were going down.  There was no reason to assume danger... yet.