Cakefortwo

Her name was Magwyn Mortegris, and she was dead. Upright? Yes. Walking? Certainly. But dead as a doornail, sure as the sun beat down on the streets of Silvermoon City that day. She wore a plum-colored robe that clashed violently with her mottled green skin and was littered from head to rotting toe in jingling talismans. Despite her best efforts, a damp odor of mold surrounded her, detectable amidst perfumes of dried mageroyal. A mop of black hair hung from her skull in lifeless tendrils. At her hip dangled a green velvet bag embroidered with the symbol of the All-Seeing Eye. The beads attached to its hem clacked together as she ambled along,