Teresa was a fine girl, everyone agrees. Short but strong, with a soft face and curling brown hair and patient eyes. Dutiful, kind, humble. She would walk along the shoreline and the mountain paths every day, stopping to chat with passers-by and even offer a little blessing, a kind of earthen strength that would let one toil in the fields all day and come home to eat a hearty meal.

She kept them all safe from monsters, smiled and waves with everyone who passed, cheerfully complimented and joked, was constantly receiving invitations to restaurants, little gifts, curios or wine or cheese, which she'd re-gift to someone in need as often as keep for herself. Her raiment is not so impressive as the legendary figures you hear tell of, her powers limited and not seeming to grow further, perhaps out of a lack of ambition or skill - but still. She was theirs.

Such a shame, a tragedy really, that now she is but a ghost on the hills above Ragusa.

It wasn't an especially heroic death, though everyone is quick to tell you otherwise. The thing is, no matter how cautious and diligent you are, no matter your skill and bearing, if you roll enough dice you will eventually roll snake-eyes.

Still, the other spirit bearers descended upon the monster that did it like the wrath of Heaven. There was nothing left of it; There was hardly anything left of the hill they tracked it to.

The funeral service and memorials were very moving, and her ghost would tell everyone who visits that it's okay, everyone goes to God at some point, and she's happy to have lived with them in such a beautiful country while she could.

Whole villages grieved. It made the news in the big city, Palermo. But people moved on, over time. A new girl came to take over her watch, though this one was not a girl - a cold and distant boy who is impatient and dismissive, not at all like Teresa. He does the job, but see if anyone will bother to give him gifts of sandwiches, salami, or wine. 

And Teresa still waits, for now. Standing upon a hill and staring wistfully out to the shoreline and over the sea.

Teresa was a fine girl, everyone agrees. Short but strong, with a soft face and curling brown hair and patient eyes. Dutiful, kind, humble. She would walk along the shoreline and the mountain paths every day, stopping to chat with passers-by and even offer a little blessing, a kind of earthen strength that would let one toil in the fields all day and come home to eat a hearty meal.

She kept them all safe from monsters, smiled and waves with everyone who passed, cheerfully complimented and joked, was constantly receiving invitations to restaurants, little gifts, curios or wine or cheese, which she'd re-gift to someone in need as often as keep for herself. Her raiment is not so impressive as the legendary figures you hear tell of, her powers limited and not seeming to grow further, perhaps out of a lack of ambition or skill - but still. She was theirs.

Such a shame, a tragedy really, that now she is but a ghost on the hills above Ragusa.

It wasn't an especially heroic death, though everyone is quick to tell you otherwise, that she single-handedly held off a ravening horde. No, it was a lucky hit, an unlucky stumble, and a claw lashing out. The thing is, no matter how cautious and diligent you are, no matter your skill and bearing, if you roll enough dice you will eventually roll snake-eyes.

Still, the other spirit bearers descended upon the monster that did it like the wrath of Heaven. There was nothing left of it; There was hardly anything left of the hill they tracked it to.

The funeral service and memorials were very moving, and her ghost would tell everyone who visits that it's okay, everyone goes to God at some point, and she's happy to have lived with them in such a beautiful country while she could.

Whole villages grieved. It made the news in the big city, Palermo. But people moved on, over time. A new girl came to take over her watch, though this one was not a girl - a cold and distant boy who is impatient and dismissive, not at all like Teresa. He does the job, but see if anyone will bother to give him gifts of sandwiches, salami, or wine. 

And Teresa still waits, for now. Standing upon a hill and staring wistfully out to the shoreline and over the sea.

Teresa was a fine girl, everyone agrees. Short but strong, with a soft face and curling brown hair and patient eyes. Dutiful, kind, humble. She would walk along the shoreline and the mountain paths every day, stopping to chat with passers-by and even offer a little blessing, a kind of earthen strength that would let one toil in the fields all day and come home to eat a hearty meal.

She kept them all safe from monsters, smiled and waved with everyone who passed, cheerfully complimented and joked, was constantly receiving invitations to restaurants, little gifts, curios or wine or cheese, which she'd re-gift to someone in need as often as keep for herself. Her raiment is not so impressive as the legendary figures you hear tell of, her powers limited and not seeming to grow further, perhaps out of a lack of ambition or skill - but still. She was theirs.

Such a shame, a tragedy really, that now she is but a ghost on the hills above Ragusa.

It wasn't an especially heroic death, though everyone is quick to tell you otherwise, that she single-handedly held off a ravening horde. No, it was a lucky hit, an unlucky stumble, and a claw lashing out. The thing is, no matter how cautious and diligent you are, no matter your skill and bearing, if you roll enough dice you will eventually roll snake-eyes.

Still, the other spirit bearers descended upon the monster that did it like the wrath of Heaven. There was nothing left of it; There was hardly anything left of the hill they tracked it to.

The funeral service and memorials were very moving, and her ghost would tell everyone who visits that it's okay, everyone goes to God at some point, and she's happy to have lived with them in such a beautiful country while she could.

Whole villages grieved. It made the news in the big city, Palermo. But people moved on, over time. A new girl came to take over her watch, though this one was not a girl - a cold and distant boy who is impatient and dismissive, not at all like Teresa. He does the job, but see if anyone will bother to give him gifts of sandwiches, salami, or wine. 

And Teresa still waits, for now. Standing upon a hill and staring wistfully out to the shoreline and over the sea.