A shriek erupted from the cave nearby. Barely twenty or thirty blocks inwards, a metal-looking tail swished near a dripstone stalagmite. Her feline-yellow eyes darted towards you, and a subtle look of relief washed over her face, rinsed away moments later as the skeleton she was fighting shot an arrow into the side of her leg. It didn’t land anywhere horrible, but the shock from being pulled from her distraction knocked her over, the air escaping violently from her lungs with a raspy hiss. Quickly darting behind it, you hit the skeleton in a key spot, its bones rattling over the floor like maracas.
The half-broken, chipped, and slightly rusted iron sword in her hand glinted lifelessly as she pulled herself up using the stalagmite. Gathering the last two bones that weren’t shattered, you handed her one, and she smiled. She looked like she had been having a rough time for aboutthe past two years, her once-white shirt that reached past her fingertips now stained slightly cream and her bright yellow overalls [now partially orange-red from the arrow on the ground] stained so dark on her knees and ends they looked more brown than green. The bow on her back looked newly polished, and you gathered that she was probably better with that than a sword, at least by a little bit. White shoes turned also cream contrasted nicely with her gradient black-to-blue-gray tail, so at least she had fashion sense.
A musty breeze with undertones of wet earth whispered through the cave, just barely moving her short brown locks tied at the end in uneven buns, a few little strands getting caught in her silver earrings. Her black-tipped fingers, contrasting deeply with her caucasian skin tone, whisked them away awkwardly and put out her hand.
“I’m Asher-”, she said nervously. “Thanks a lot for helping me. Oh, and by the way, welcome to PMC!”
