Noting Char's use of magic to destroy the skeleton, Vanrius grinned, he had suspected that there was more to her than a beautiful face and supple form all along, he briefly reflected on it as a skeleton clad in the ancient silks of a nobleman approached, jeweled mace in hand, Vanrius, knowing that his cutlass could be damaged or even broken by the bones of a skeleton, left the weapon in it's scabbard and threw a bag of powder in the skeleton's face, even though he could have easily torn the head from the neck in seconds, Vanrius chose to remain in disguise, at least for this time. The violet powder scattered upon the bones and destroyed them on contact, the body fell, destroyed, back to earth, the living dead put to rest again by Vanrius, he snatched up the mace, ready to wield it with all his might. He swung his mace again, crushing the skull of another of the cursed undead. Vanrius charged into a mob of skeletons, a snarl that could never have been made by human lips escaped Vanrius in the heat of the moment, but when the skeletons had crowded in a deadly circle about the disguised warrior, it would be far too easy for one who heard the sound to blame it on the undead beings who stalked the cemetery.

The aforementioned snarl was the last thing three skeletons perceived with their senses, returned to them by whatever foul ritual had returned them to life. Vanrius' mace cleaved through the crowd, crashing upon the skull of the central skeleton and killing it instantly, with the speed of a panther's claw, Vanrius dispatched one with a blow to the cheekbone, and finally crushed the neck of the final in a swift stroke. The skeleton came forth from nowhere, a poison-soaked dirk clutched in hand, unexpectedly, Vanrius received a stab wound to the chest that would have killed a human But it wasn't the stabbing itself that concerned him, it was the poison, even the hardy dragon-men could be felled by poison, it was unexpected from an undead thrall, which often wieleded any weapon it found, whether it was a fine axe from the frosted wastes or a rusted broadsword that had seen too many winters. He fell back behind a tree with pain, barely silencing the inhuman cries that sought to escape his mouth; he groaned in pain and agony, and thrust a desperate hand into his pocket, grasping his salvation, Vanrius snatched a small herb and put it into his mouth, swallowing it the second it touched his tongue, the bitter herb went down quickly and banished all of the pain as well as the poison, Vanrius cursed, knowing that he had only two more of these herbs, which had to be painstakingly enchanted to yield their effects. He worried not about the wound, it appeared as any other would, it did not expose his true form in any way. Vanrius climbed back to his feet, using the tree for support, he gathered the mace back up, and proceeded more carefully into an isolated couple of skeletons.