[Zohariel]

I'm accepted!

Zohariel snunck through the undergrowth, trying to plant her feet as silently as possible. They were not small feet, and she was not an Elf, so 'silently' was an overstatment. Her stomach growled and squirmed. She had not eaten in three days, except for a mouldy apple core scrounged from a dustbin (probably half the reason for the squirming). She was dirty, tired and ready to do anything for food.
Suddenly, the trees seemed to stop in front of her, and she heard voices. A wind blew strongly just in front of her, and someone was wailing, with a voice fit to raise the dead. Zohariel smirked. She was the only Necromancer round here. Another voice sounded, a male one, strong and firm, and Zohariel retreated further into the bushes, cursing under her breath as a thick bramble cut her cheek. She wiped the blood away with one dirty sleeve, and grinned in a twisted way.
Hmmm...people. And where there's people, there's food. And money. Mentally, she resolved to trail them, wait for a good time to attack. With her cudgel, and broken sword (if it did not stab you properly it gave you blood poisoning) she could beat three, maybe. If they did not have too good a weaponry.
Zohariel sank to her knees, and leant against a tree. This looked like a long wait.