À travers les brumes persistantes, le son des pieds qui tremblent s'approche de la porte sud. Les gardes défient les pas qui s'approchent, alertent pour les ennuis. Le bruit d'un bâton frappant la rue pavée sonne, et une légère brise souffle la brume, révélant Un grand homme pâle, presque pâle de mort, debout devant deux porteurs voûtés, transportant un grand trait de viande crue sur deux poteaux robustes qui avaient été vert ébouillant quelques jours auparavant. L'homme parlait d'une voix claire et douce, à peine plus qu'un murmure mais chaque mot était facilement compris.
"Je m'appelle Jaro Cabur. J'apporte une offrande de nourriture, surtout de viande, aux gens d'Uredna. J'espère gagner quelques nuits de repos en échange."
Les gardes se concertent pendant quelques instants, mais la nourriture fraîche n'était pas quelque chose qu'ils pouvaient se permettre de laisser passer. Ils ont donné leur spiel habituel pour causer des ennuis en ville et cela en cas d'urgence, on s'attend à ce qu'ils aident à défendre la ville. Jaro n'avait pas d'objections, et a déclaré qu'il n'en attendait pas moins. Les gardes le laissaient passer lui et son petit entourage. Ils remarquent, comme ils portent passer que les deux sont complètement couverts, pas même un aperçu de la peau à l'abeille vu sur l'un d'eux. Alors que c'était bizarre, ce n'était pas assez pour les arrêter. Les porteurs n'ont fait aucun bruit à part le brouillage de leurs pieds.
Jaro a fait son chemin vers la taverne, se promenant à l'arrière et le hangar à viande. Il a attendu un moment quand l'une des filles est sortie et a demandé à recevoir trois jours de chambre et de pension en échange des viandes et des herbes qu'il avait apportées. Elle a dit que cela devrait être bien, et lui a demandé de stocker la viande et les épices où ils seraient utilisés. Il la remercia et retourna dans la rue principale à temps pour ici la petite commotion commençant juste à l'extérieur du temple. Il a entendu une femme interjecter son opinion dans la mêlée.
Elle savait: "Si vous voulez continuer, vous pourriez vous écraser ou simplement rentrer chez vous. Ce sera terminé avec plus d'accélération de cette façon. » 

Jaro a pensé se révéler, ou plus exactement ses talents, mais est resté lui-même. C'était un étranger ici, et il n'avait pas besoin de se méfier. Il était une personne assez difficile à croire comme il était, son cadre et comportement tout simplement ne pas transmettre de qualités réconfortantes du tout. Il était habitué à cela et avait même grandi pour préférer cela au fil des ans. Certaines choses ne valaient pas l'effort nécessaire pour établir et maintenir, car les amitiés de Jaro étaient à peu près en tête de cette liste en ces jours sombres. Jaro s'arrêta au coin de la taverne, flanqué de ses deux porteurs à vide, et regarda la scène tranquillement mais intensément. Il serait bon de savoir à quel point les gens sont sérieux à garder l'ordre à l'intérieur des murs. Il a tendance à être plus juste dans les villes qui sont plus ordonnées, et il espère que la question sera auparavant traitée rapidement.
Name: Jaro Cabur
Age: 25
Race: Human
Appearance: A tall, thin man he appears to be a frail being. He's no warrior by any means, but his cunning makes up where his body is lacking. A child of the destitute roads, he's never been properly nourished, but then who has these days? Despite his height, his skin is pale, almost sickly, but he moves with grace and carries a belian(a kind of wood, like oak or pine) staff with a polished jade crystal on one end, and a small metal spike capping the other. A sturdy short sword is belted to his waist with several pouches of various small trinkets, coins, stones and herbs. His coat, a dark blue thick woolen jacket hemmed with runes, is never far from him. He believes it to be magical, though it seems mundane enough to those inspecting it. Sturdy black boots, well worn adorn his feet, the rest of his outfit is usually a simple tunic and trousers, often in dull colors. His long black hair is braided, with little bits of bone woven into each strand, though not enough to clink together as he moves.
Personality: A loner, Jaro seeks no comfort other than a warm meal and a dry bed. He works hard and willingly enough, but says very little, preferring to let his gestures and malnourished frame do the speaking for him. He dislikes being the center of attention and does his best to remain largely insignificant and beneath the worlds, and there by the god's, notice as much as possible.
Morality / Religion: A semi-devout follower of both Therold and Yearneth, Jaro always thought of Hgnarth as a thug and has never paid him any respect. He believes mostly in individual freedom to be whoever and whatever you want, though he also knows that every choice produces consequence and that a man must live with the consequences of his choices.
Biography:Never knew his parents, grew up scavenging and so is unperturbed by the smell of rotting flesh or the sight of mangled bodies and monsters. It's also given him a nearly supernatural awareness of his surroundings, especially when it comes to detecting the presence of other beings. It doesn't seem to matter if the being is a living shadow, monster, or desperate survivor, he usually knows they're coming before they notice him. He grew up more alone than most, though he often found shelter with a traveling band here or there, he never really fit in, never belonged to any group. By his teens he was more comfortable speaking and listening to the dead than the living. He didn't notice it at first, that when he spoke, the voice or voices that answered wasn't always his own. But that changed when found a particularly gruesome set of remains. It had been a camp of elves and men, but now only scattered bits of rotting flesh ruined tents and blood soaked soil remained. He asked aloud what happened to these people, and the spirits of the slain spoke to him, telling their tales one at a time. As they finished, the first to speak obviously their captain in life, asked that Jaro bury what remains he could find, and speak a blessing over them that the spirits might find rest. Jaro did his best, the spirits led him to each piece that remained, and he buried them all. Over the grave he built a fire, and as the fire burned he began to sing. He sang of things he could not know, the warmth of a lover's embrace, the sorrow of a friend's betrayal, the joy of a new born son, the weariness of endless toil under a hot sun. On and on he sang, though the words were not his own, as he sang he tended the fire until there was nothing left to burn, still he sang as the fire dwindled to coals. Utterly unaware of his surroundings, thankfully they seemed just as unaware of him. When his latest group of companions found him, he was sitting quietly staring the still warm ashes of the now dead fire. They said it had been three days since they had sent him out to find food and tools. But how could that be? Surely the night would have taken him, the monsters that had slain these would have returned and heard him singing, and slain him too... That is when they began to fear him and when he noticed the dead captain giving one last gesture of respect and gratitude before fading into shadows of evening. Jaro had always been a strange child, but when he spoke of his commune with the dead he was shunned and thrown out of the band, left to his madness as they could only hope it was.
Years passed, he grew in wisdom and knowledge as he continued to speak with the souls of those who had passed before him. He did what he could to put them at ease, to give them rest. For some however, there was nothing he could do but listen and hope to avoid their fate. His skills as a scout and scavenger grew, and he loaned them out to various groups in exchange for food and shelter, as well protection from the worst and hungriest of the monsters and living shadows. He came to Urenda alone, saying nothing of his travels, his skills, or his reasons for being in Urenda. He has made himself useful in town, but not spectacularly so. People don't trust him, but he does good work and he never complains even when he's repeatedly given the worst jobs. He can occaisionally be heard muttering to himself, but he rarely says anything to anyone else.
Other Notes:"Who are you?"
"No one of consequence."
"I must know!"
"Get used to disappointment."
Class: Wizard
Combat Style:Two-handed Staff, bashing and stabbing, used as a guardian to fight many opponents at once or a single stronger opponent. One handed sword, stabbing and slashing, used to finish dying foes and hack at slow, well armored foes.
Weapons / Tools:One Belian StaffOne KhandaThree Slings, each made for a different range.
Skills / Natural Abilities:Communicate with the DeadAlert and Wary, having survived the worst of many things, not much surprises or phases him any more.
Spells / Magical Abilities:Animate Skeleton: One skeleton becomes animated, requires a willing spirit to be permanent.Shadow Shield: Shadows swirl and coalesce into a large weightless disc that blocks monster, shadow, and weapon alike. Grant Wisdom: One spirit shares it's memories with target person or creature. If spirit and target are too dissimilar only pain will be given.
General Equipment:Sack of bleached and carved bones, slung over one shoulder.Bed roll and extra clothes kept in a satchel with rope, torches and other useful items.A small white signet ring, carved from the bone of some monster. It bears the rune of defiance.
Miscellaneous:One heavy coat, lightly enchanted to resist wear and tear. 
Theme Song: City of Bones