Twain stepped out glaring at the snow with a crooked grin. 

The place only had half a ceiling, and the structure was quite fragile. It was amazing that the thing was still standing.

Sure it was all well and good that most if not all in the party got to the chamber-of-the-sacrifice, but, would the castle walls hold up against the thick wall of snow? Doubtful.

The leader of MERCY could not hope for the walls to hold up. He was doctor and necromancer...

... And there were an awful lot of dead bodies around.

He stepped away from the group and raised his arms, closing his eyes.

The avalanche was already shaking the foundations of the castle, but now, the ground around them was suddenly shaking and vibrating even more... 

... Or at least, the bones were.
[i]
The bones[/i] flew up from the ground. Most the bones still had flesh dangling off them, some were somewhat whole skeletons, others were just parts, they flew up into the air. They flew from the fires, from under the stones, from the evidence bags, every dead bone obeyed the will of twain.

He moved all, save for the one that had been on the alter. 

The rest rose above their heads. Bones cracked and flesh tore and the things made a dome shape. A shield of meat and bones. It stunk. It sent stale blood and dirt and rock dripping on the heads of those protected under its dome. 

A drop of blood hit Twain on his furrowed brow, dripping down the side of his face. The necromancer did not notice, remaining in deep concentration. 

The snow hit the castle, which shuddered and broke under its momentum. 

The bone-dome cracked and creaked... for a sickening moment it bent inward as if it were about to break. Yet, it held. 

The snow continued past the castle, knocking down its remaining towers, and fell down over the cliff. 

The wave of energy gone the mountain side became quiet. The dragon roared in triumph. She saw the castle buried. She thought that they were all finally dead. She took on last look at the kill zone, before flying away.

They were not dead, under the bone-and-snow bubble were the survivors. The dragon-fire still lit the chamber. Twain lowered his hands. 

"Take [i]that[/i] mother nature!"