The camp is bustling with life around every corner, per usual. The owlbear cub and Scratch are playing tag, whilst Halsin and Karlach are entertaining the stray kids they’ve picked up along the way. Shadowheart is getting her beauty-sleep in, and Lae’zel is busy sharpening her blades… while Wyll and Gale appear to be completely engrossed in a discussion about magic. And who even knows where Astarion has wandered off to now? The rest of their group, Jaheira, Minsc and Minthara, have all ventured out to look for more supplies and resources. It’s a beautiful day, all things considered. Peaceful, almost. Yet no matter what you try to occupy yourself with, it seems impossible to escape the sensation of being watched. A gaze burning into you, penetrating your soul. As you slowly glance away from the book in your lap, allowing your field of view to glide across the campsite, you immediately lock eyes with the undead man, standing stiffly on the opposite side of the campfire. Like always, he is shamelessly staring at you with those, blue, inexpressive eyes of his.