[h3][b][i][center][color=a36209]Saul Kent[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
[center][b][color=a36209]Location:[/color][/b] The graveyard, then later Salarn town gate.
[b][color=a36209]Interacting With:[/color][/b] Some empty graves and the unhelpful guard who has been on duty all day.[/center]

The leaf fall squelched under foot as he walked through the graveyard. Dew already glistened on the bushes and shrubs as night fell and a grey mist started to close in. The air was stiller here, sheltered by the trees.

The figure walking through the graveyard pulled his cloak tighter more out of habit than any real reason. This felt bad. He was limping slightly on his left leg, the result of a recent skirmish with some soldiers. He had managed to repair his chain mail, but the wound just didn't seem to want to close up properly so blood trickled slowly down the outside of his leg under his armour. Nice, happy graveyards where everyone was resting in peace didn't feel like this. He remembered old rumours of an secret coven of nymphomaic leggy blondes hidden in the woods.

That had turned out to be a trap created by soul sucking faeries.

Why was it that rumours of hundreds of sex starved girls normally turned out to be lies, but rumours of people raising armies of corpses to kill everyone normally turned out to be true?

There was something unfair there, he felt.

He came to the first of the empty graves, knelt down beside it. He pulled a glowing rock from a belt pouch to help him see and looked over the hole in the ground.  He reached into the loose earth with a suntanned hand, and ran it through his fingers. He raised his fingers to his lips, sniffed the gravedirt. licked his fingers, tasted the gravedirt. It tasted like mud. Kent stood up, shaking his head sadly.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked across the graveyard to the next empty grave leaving a trail of footprints in the early evening dew. This grave he also knelt down beside and checked. This grave he also wasn't happy with what he found. He stood up, brushed the dirt off on the side of his equally grubby cloak. His eyes scanned the graveyard again, trying to put a finger on exactly what was wrong here. Of course, he had his suspicions. He, like everyone else, had heard things. But hearing them and seeing, touching and poking them were two different things. So the figure in the muddy cloak spent over an hour nosing around the graveyard, occasionally scraping ivy off a tombstone so he could read it better or moving a bramble out of the way to see what was under it.

Then he limped back out of gate, down the path and back to the road towards the guards and the gate.

The road was quieter now and he was able to make reasonable time, despite the darkness. Most folks had pressed on to try and get to town before this late hour. He didn't really blame them for that, what with the night smelling of burnt orc an all. But then most folks hadn't spent most of this morning looking for their thrice-cursed-now-missing backpacks, or felt the need to go poking cemeteries just to confirm that there were, infact, undead there.

He soon made the town gate, and threw back his hood as he approached. The gate was closed.

[color=a36209][b][h1]“Oi!..”[/h1][/b][/color]The traveller yelled.

“Who goes there?” A faceless voice replied from the other side.

[color=a36209]“My name is Saul Kent. I seek shelter, and food.”[/color]

“I know no man called Kent! Begone from here!”

[i][color=a36209]'Well, that went well'[/color][/i] Kent thought to himself. [color=a36209]“I can earn my shelter!”[/color]

“We have enough farmhands!”

[color=a36209]“I'm no farmhand! I am a carpenter!”[/color]. Well, it wasn't really a lie. He had never been apprenticed to anyone, but was fairly sure he could make a passable chair or whatever if he had to.

A lantern blinked on at the top of the fence, it's beam wavering down the path a bit until it shone in his eyes and made him squint. The gate creaked a bit as it swung open.

“You are welcome, Saul Kent. There is a tavern in the centre of town where you may find shelter.”

[color=a36209]“Thank you”[/color] Kent nodded as he walked into town. It was often an interesting test of the mood of a place, he found – did they react better to an offer of gold, or to the offer of skilled help?