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Most people did not congregate in cemetaries at the dead of night, with nary a light to guide their way. It was, most certainly, not exactly a healthy or normal behaviour. A lamp would attract too much attention, though. A torch would scorch its light into the eyes of onlookers and bystanders...

It was, in all honesty, just a little bit bullshit that it was so hard to find a quest or two in this world, but eventually she'd found somebody that was crying about a beast or something, some kind of bear that had taken down one of his goats and a cattle dog or something along those lines...

A swing of her giant blade, Behemoth, carved through the trunk of another tree, tendrils of dark magic reaching out to sap the color and life from it, the blonde haired wielder of the sword cackling manically as she watched something else die. She'd been at this for a few minutes now, revelling...