The necromancer throws a flask to the ground, and the contents begin to glow a dull red as they seep through the broken glass. The fluid rises into the air, glowing brighter as the grass around it shrinks and wilts. The now-brilliant ribbon of liquid streaks up the caster’s arm and into his chest as he turns to face you, rejuvenated, wearing a rictus grin. – Submitted by pdsexton1@gmail.com (Alias: Chase Derringer)