---

---

"Threaten?" Arex questions the creature, holding onto that one statement and missing the rest. His head twists slightly and his lips silently replay back their conversation in a hushed mumble. He pauses to stare at his own hand as it rotates from side to side. Bound in movement by muscles and bone. "Yeah I could be dead. How would I even know? Do the dead know they are dead?" This thought, while abstract, seemed to pain and plague his mind.

"Alright, I suppose you are a tad tall for a dwarf." Arex eventually replies, standing to his feet and snapping to his senses.
"Ok creature, take me to your creator. Let's go see your maker, Karnorouri."

Arex gathered his few things from around him, his guns, a rag, a rucksack and some trinkets. With that he was ready to head out. He seemed thoroughly convinced that this creature was connected in some way to the lich.
@Liaison

More people? Rosa doubted the concept of "The more, the merrier" was ever intended to apply to this situation, but she wasn't going to complain. She had been quite morbid in her conversations so far, but with these reinforcements, she certainly thought they stood a chance. Best not to say that out loud, though. As she had said, confidence kills.

She worried somewhat about the orc. He seemed frail, particularly so considering his species, and his reliance on that walking stick would not be advantageous, either. Rosa assumed he had more use than was visibly noticeable, or he wouldn't have come on a journey like this.

The human, alternatively, seemed the opposite. Like Voph, Fionn appeared well-equipped and capable, but also had the care to at least learn what he was hunting. Rosa hoped he would live up to his appearance.

On the subject of Voph, Rosa wondered if she'd been too harsh with him. She was used to working alone, and had undertaken this journey under the expectation of having help. Herself, she could rely upon to make intelligent, careful decisions, and she'd be the only one who'd suffer if she failed to. With people assisting her, she'd have to rely on them and them on her. Any mistake could be amplified painfully.

As for Nakreyya, the elf, she was like a halfway point between the other two newcomers. Armoured, yet the armour was sculpted and artful in its design. Missing an eye, yet every other feature implied a lifetime of safety and luxury. Rosa decided to hope for the best with this woman.

Traveller. An strange name, unlikely to be his real one. An alias, maybe? Whatever the case, he seemed useful enough. His armour was made of something exotic, and presumably better than the standard fare, or he wouldn't use it. Rosa was definitely satisfied with what he appeared to be, and, as with Fionn, she just hoped he would live up to this.

---

The assembled group eventually arrived at the Pillar. It was certainly impressive, in a bleak way. A single, unnatural, crow-like creature watched them as they approached. Rosa matched its horrid gaze. She refused to be intimidated by a bird, even one like that. She couldn't help thinking of the old rhyme, the one about magpies. One for sorrow. And so on.

Rosa had both of her guns with her. She wouldn't normally bring them to Ecetopia, but she considered Karnarouri to be good enough reason. She kept her shotgun drawn on the approach to the Pillar. She had intended to blast anything not quite dead that might be around, but, thankfully, there was nothing.

"I assume that digging won't work. Karnarouri has an ego, that much is clear from the monolith alone. So, of all the excavations here, the entrance to his tomb is going to be in the middle somewhere, it might even be the monolith. The difficulty would be in opening it."

Voph spent most of the journey in silence, fiddling with his visor. Once he was satisfied with the results, he donned his helmet again, and continued to walk in silence helmet rising occasionally to allow him access to his flask. He also checked, double checked, and triple checked his ammo count. Thirty-two in all, split into groups of 8. He hoped it would be enough, else he might have to find a sturdy stick by the end of it.

As the group drew near the obelisk, the vague hint of a smile played across his face. Not that he would dare share this with the group, but the malevolent aura emanating from the pillar reminded Voph of home more than anything else he had experienced. There was a faint whisper on the wind. One he figured only Traveler could hear, though to him, the sound must have been deafening. Voph looked at his hand, and fingers curled into a fist as he drifted into thought. It had been a long time since he had been in a magic nexus strong enough to invoke a reaction from him. The last time....well... The smile on his face vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. His father would have loved to study this place. His mother might have shown an interest as well. Seeking a distraction from the painful memories, he glanced to Rosa.

"Oh, an ego? Lovely. Should make our job somewhat easy. Ego usually means overconfident. Overconfident means exploitable weaknesses. As for accessing his tomb, I'd be of little help. I was never much good at archaeology classes, and the teachers always hated when I pointed out how cliche "blood tribute" entrances have become..."

Traveller caught the gaze of Rosa for a moment as she scanned everyone. It appeared that she was sizing everyone up, figuring out who was capable. He had made his assessments of the others earlier on and still stuck by them. Their group was capable, especially if they on their way to kill a bandit gang opposed to a Lich and its army. They also possessed many different types of weapons: Rosa and Voph carried guns among a few sidearms; Nakreyya had an assortment of daggers; Fionn was a user of the arcane arts as was Traveller, although his spells were still unknown; Grug had an abomination on his arm, the abilities of which were unknown as well. Traveller assumed that at least one of them would hold the weakness of the Lich.

While Traveller did not think that the others could discern what he was thinking, Rosa and Voph's topic of an ego made him wonder. He had been certain about the destruction of the Lich. The thought was one born in overconfidence in himself and the strangers he had just met. He started to realize that he would have to give the Lich more credit. Furthermore, Voph's statement about overconfidence made the choice for Traveller; he would have to cool off a little. "Yes, both of you are correct. If this Lich has an ego then we should exploit it. However, in the process we should also stop to examine ourselves. We need to be precise and calculating in our movements. We cannot afford to make any mistakes out of ego or revenge if any of you seek it." His comment not being directed to anyone in particular, just the group as a whole.

The brief statement distracted Traveller from the plagued magic, but with the distraction gone he once more felt sickened He raised a finger, drawing a rune in the air. It was a simple, nearly translucent, dark blue circle. Once faded, a dark blue shield surrounded Traveller before going translucent. With that, Traveller felt the magic nexus retreat. "This place is corrupted beyond anything I have ever seen..."

To say Sciaac actions were charitable was an understatement. He could have easily reacted in a hostile manner. All things aside, his usual short temperament had been curbed. After a deep breath, he closed his eyes. When releasing his hand after twirling it repeatedly, it snapped back, using all of the tension created to twirl as a buzz saw, tearing into the wall, slicing it with ease. Though he was prepared for otherwise, the action did serve to settle his anger. Now all that was left was to move forward. A pillar of great size had exposed itself. Bringing Arem to it could only answer some of his questions as well as providing another layer of safety. Who knows what or who will show up once, he began his investigation.

Without saying anything at all, he left the shack and began his search for a solid structure with height to potentially catapult from. It seemed he had a way to cut the travel time to a fraction of its former length. The question was would Arem be prepared for what he was about to propose?

“Through air. That is how we’ll travel.”

"Man, there aren't any cute girls around here at all. Or anything, really! Why did I ever think this was a good idea?"

Ivas was only talking to himself as he wandered the wastes of Rzail, but since there was literally nothing else alive in this land, he might as well voice his thoughts aloud. Journeying to distant lands for glory and booty was only a good idea if there was actually any glory or booty to be found in the distant land, and it seemed like he had picked the short straw when it came to far away lands. This place was like a desert except instead of being hot, it stank like death everywhere. Ivas wasn't sure which kind of desert was worse, given that he'd never been to the hot kind anyways. He was just about to sit down and take a rest when he spied a human figure up ahead.... small, with long hair and a bulging chest.... aha! Finally!



"Oh there you are! I mean, uhh, no, I haven't been stalking you or anything, I just mean that--"

Luckily the girl was far enough away that she could not hear what Ivas had blurted out, or so it seemed given her lack of reaction. He decided to just run closer instead of potentially embarrassing himself by ranting on.

"Man, I was starting to wonder if there was anyone else here! Say, what's up with your skin? Are you.... okay? I don't wanna be rude if it's like a personal condition, but--ouch! Hey, that hurts! Let my arm go! Ahh!!"

He smacked her wrist away with Edge's pommel, so hard that her hand fell right off!

"Omigosh, I'm so sorry!! I really didn't know my own strength! Just let me--"

"Urrrgghhh...."

"--woah, I know I hit your hand off, but no biting! Keep those teeth to yourself!"

The girl's aggression, unnatural strength, and failure to produce any speech beyond growls and groans (which were much too low in pitch for her apparent gender and age) were really starting to worry Ivas at this point, but he refused to judge her too quickly. His teachers in school had told him about the evils of racism--if he assumed this girl was a monster just because she spoke another language and had a different skin color, he'd be a bad person! Maybe biting people was just how people say hello in the native culture! Still, Ivas was pretty sure that he wasn't going to get anywhere with her at this rate. He snatched up the detached hand while giving her his best puppy dog eyes as an apology, which had no effect as she lunged clumsily for his jugular vein.

The boy dodged her freakishly wide mouth, accidentally tripping her in the process and causing her to faceplant into the sand.

"Grrrr...." she moaned, her unnatural voice muffled by a mouthful of earth.

"Ack! Sorry, sorry again, I promise that was an accident. I'm gonna find a cleric or something to put this back on you. And hopefully that can translate your growly language too! I swear I'm really a nice guy once you get to know me! I always respect women!"

He took off across the dead sands, halfway panicking since he really had no idea where to go or how to find anyone that could help. So far Ivas had definitely done more harm than good in this land, maybe he should have stayed with his own people and not tried to appropriate his culture into another one.... at the very least, though, he had to fix up the green girl somehow! In the far distance, a tall, tower-like object rose up from the ground, dark and foreboding. It was the only notable terrain feature anywhere at all that Ivas could see, so he made for it, praying to the gods that it marked some kind of village that he could trade with or something.

@Normie

Something big and metal-sounding came from the distance off the path that Ivas was running. Looking in said direction showed a hill. Over that hill, monstrosities of bulking sizes stood. They were three in number and menacing. As they groaned with unearthly noises, something brighter and nicer looking stood before them. Long curly golden hair with a large pink bow was facing whatever person happened to touch the top of that hill, their back turned to the viewer. A greataxe was held in the stranger's hands. Fur and metal adorned the rest of their body. From the front it did not cover as much as you would think it did!

It was a female. Her lips were nicely painted and her eyelashes prominent. Cleavage was the hallmark of her clothing as a bra, nicely frilly in design betrayed the warrioress's overall presentation. She looked like she was dressed to go out on a date. A date in combat. The monstrosities threw themselves at her. She was such a helpless little woman! She had to be saved!

Nah! With a ferocity that was hidden beneath her demeanor, she cleaved through flesh and bone like it was nothing, blackened blood and guts flying with each hacking swipe of her axe. The confrontation was over in seconds. She planted her weapon upright onto the ground, leaning on it temporarily while looking at her left hand. Damn, she had broken a nail.

@Normie@Kasai Uchiha
The young swordsman and the female warrior would find that their general vicinity would be filled with a sudden explosion that ringed throughout the dead sands of the surrounding area. A large plume of smoke would envelop a small portion of a nearby hill, with a humanoid figure within the small valley before them slowly dropping to the ground, a zombie which went limp. A loud set of coughs echoed from the envelopment of smoke, with the dead winds of Rzail blowing the warm sulfurous smoke eastward. A moderately sized figure held a long object within his hands, in this case it was known as a flintlock rifle, a powerful invention designed to hit targets from far away accurately with the usage of grooves within a metal barrel to help aid the ball in it's intended direction. It was still rather primitive, especially for the individual whom had fired it, with the individual having turned to glance about and off towards the direction of the tower-like object all the others had seen.

The man who wielded the rifle appeared to be of a moderate size, lean of build and covered in an assortment of armor. He currently had on a thick gambeson, a helmet in the shape of a steel disc settled ontop of his head. Bits of leather clothing laced underneath the gambeson, keeping the individual warm from the cold dead air of Rzail. He had a prominent underbite, with a set of canines protruding from his lower lip, and a piglike nose making up the center of his face. Green skin made up what was exposed of his body, portraying the individual as a smaller offshoot of Orc that resided within the cosmos. He appeared to be somewhat calm, lacking any sense of nervousness or belligerence in the small realm that was home to undead. His right hand would go to settle the butt of the rifle's stock into the dead sand, his eyes darting off both between the golden figure standing amongst the hill before the corpses of the giant undead, and the youthful swordsman bolting towards the tower.

A low sigh escaped the young Orc's mouth as he'd start the careful process of reloading the flintlock rifle, being careful of the combat knife bayonet he had attached to the end of the rifle. He made sure to stay careful as he reloaded the rifle, taking a good minute of his time before he'd go to raise it up. By some odd habit he'd lower it to the ground much like an assault rifle, him blinking his eyes as he'd heft the longer much more primitive weapon's barrel towards the sky to keep himself from driving the barrel into the dead sand. Some form of training from an old friend made him do this by habit.

He considered moving straight towards the tower, which he considered as a wise move by the young swordsman whom he watched from the hill bolt towards, although the individual on the hill also interested him somewhat. He figured the best option was to follow in the young swordsman's suit, the Orc cocking the duck of the flintlock to half-mast incase of need to fire, with him taking a brief step forward. His thick leather boots would slam into the dead sand of a small crevice in the hill below, the aged daypack on his back following suit with a small ruffle of the many items inside. He would then start to hike towards the direction of the tower, his rifle pointed towards the sky, and his eyes darting about constantly.

A reckoning was coming for the filth that inhabited Doch Mal, and his name was Zharak Kazadime. He had personally volunteered to intercept the group heading for the ruined fortress and join up in their efforts. If anyone was going to step foot in that place, it was going to be a dwarf, and it was going to be him.

Packed up in his clockwork automated wagon were various supplies. Food, water, a few grenades, rope and other basics for surviving out in Rzail. These were all the things that Zharak knew personally, for these dreaded wastes were his home. Looking out towards the Pillar, the ash covered dwarf gave a snort. Soon, he thought, his mace would get to taste undead flesh once more.

When he was at an appropriate distance, the red haired dwarf pulled out the flag of his clan and inserted it into the holder on the side of his vehicle. All those who didn't see the Ashen-Hammers as an enemy would know Zharak to be a blessing, and others well, they would know death was coming for them.



In the back of his head Zharak figured that it might be hard to convince the people at the Pillar to allow him to join their group. People were suspicious that way, but then again, Zharak had a bloody wagon to help bring them all the way over to the fortress in less time than walking. If they didn't want his help, well, then the bastards could walk off a cliff for all he cared then. Useless tall bastards is what they all are anyway.

No sooner had he left green girl in the dust than Ivas happened upon another fair beauty, this one at least twice his size (or so it seemed) and wielding a massive axe like it was a twig! He stopped to watch, jaw hanging dumbly as she cut apart three monsters with no apparent effort. He wasn't sure whether to be scared or turned on, although the voluminous outpourings of gore made the second one tough, and the fact that he wasn't a monster made him decide against the former, so ultimately Ivas just decided to be impressed by her strength. This land had plenty of cute girls after all it seemed, and really surprising ones at that! Maybe this one could even speak his language!

"Hey, lady!" Ivas said, not sure if she was really a lady or not but having nothing better to call her. "Nice going with those, uhh--things! I've been waiting to meet someone else out here!" he continued, running up to her.

Suddenly the boy was acutely aware of the severed hand he was still holding. He threw it away with a jerky motion like it was suddenly red hot.

"Y-yeah, I mean, I haven't met anyone else out here yet. Nope! Not at all, haha! Definitely not any of those weird green people!" he rambled, hoping the hand would just go ignored. "My name's Ivas. Do you know where a guy can get a drink of clean water around here? I'm starting to get kinda thirsty. Say, maybe we can ask those folks?"

Ivas pointed behind him to the orc with the rifle who was slowly hiking in their general direction, then off to the side towards the rambling wagon with the fire gear thingy flag on it. He'd already made two friends, and it looked like he was set to make that four! Already his luck had turned around! As an expert and seasoned adventurer, Ivas knew that this always happened if you just kept trying for long enough!

@Liaison

---

---

"Ok" Arex replies flatly as he makes his way to a freestanding door frame of an open damaged wall. Despite the recent absurdity of the strange creatures words and actions Arex remained eerily calm and nonchalant. Appearing almost vacant. Having gone silent he wore a blank expressionless stare. He just stood there and stared at his new acquaintance waiting.

@CoyoteLovely@Hekazu@EchoesofOld@Mataus@Ciaran@Normie@Tristwich@SpawnMeme@Kasai Uchiha



The air was dank and smelled of death centuries old. Dark magic floated on the winds, whispering in the minds of those who could hear. Hints of deadly power that could topple kingdoms and drive men insane with the snap of a finger.

At least it isn't literally Hell this time. Fionn thought as he stared down the unending staircase. The necromantic energies were so thick here that the sensors in his suit were having a hard time picking anything up. In the case of the darkness before them they were of no more use than his eyes.

He turned to reach for a torch only to stop when he caught sight of figures scattered over the nearby plains. Their dress was eye catchingly bright in comparison to the monochromatic surroundings. The armored mage focused, his helmet reading the electrical surges in his grey matter and zooming in with its digital binoculars. An interesting collection if ever he'd seen one.

A overly enthusiastic boy, a female barbarian that had somehow managed to keep her makeup and pretty clothes in some resemblance of order. An orc with a flintlock rifle. The way he held said weapon hinted at a familiarity with much more advanced weaponry. And the look on his face was more intelligent and less hostile than most examples of the species on Ecetopia. And last but not least was...

"Well now. Looks like we've attracted the attention of the locals." He said quietly. More to himself than his companions.

He was about to activate the loudspeaker functions of his suits and call out when the wind abruptly surged. His head whipped around, likely followed by the other magically sensitive members of the party, towards the obelisk at the center of the wheel of cairns. A surge of energy was building in the huge statue.

Unearthly green energy slowly built within the obsidian confines of the massive construction, screaming figures pounded on what was quickly becoming a window into one of the more unpleasant areas of the afterlife. The cries of the dammed were almost audible, although to the ears or mind none could say. The alien light continued to grow ever brighter. Bright enough that even those with no magical talent could clearly see what was happening. It was almost too bright to look at when, with a sound like a great gong it all exploded outward.

Pure necromantic energy swept out for miles in every direction like some sort of twisted Aurora Borealis. In its wake was a silence even more profound and unnerving than that normally found in the wastes. Not even the wind howled. The land of the dead held a breath none knew it ever had.

Then the moaning starting.

Hands thrust up through the ground. Some looked whole, others were missing scraps of flesh. Other were entirely skeletal. They were quickly joined by arms, than shoulder, heads, torsos. Entries bodies. What had been an open desert was quickly being dotted with walking corpses in various manners of decomposition.

At first they just shambled about. As if trying out their newly resurrected bodies. But as more and more clawed their way from the bone shard sand their gazes turned to the living amongst their ranks. The skeletons were the first to move, nimble and quick without bags of dead flesh holding them down, they charged towards the adventurers.

What had at first been a scattering was quickly turning into a mob. Soon it would be a horde. Above it all a voice rose, urgent in tone and amplified beyond normal human volumes.

"MOVE YOUR ASSES IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!"

Voph, having turned to the Obelisk for the same reason as the rest of the party, didn't hesitate when Fionn called out. He immediately turned to survey the assembling hoarde, drawing his pistol to level at...well, everything. Perhaps this instinct to provide covering fire didn't work so well with such limited ammo. He turned, and ran towards the stairway, gaze sweeping the inky blackness below, before reaching up to click on a flashlight mounted on his pistol. He moved forward, pistol raised and ready, leading the way below, trusting that the rest of the group was behind him.

Coward. Voph growled to himself as the thought entered his head. He didn't have the ammo to cover the rest of the team. It made sense. Father would be so ashamed. Voph cursed under his breath as he exhaled. For the first time since he'd left home, he felt that all familiar fear grip his very soul. The fear of failure. The fear of death. The one thing shared between human and beast. Voph exhaled slowly. He wasn't prepared for this. Back home he'd been....a god. He was a mere child and nigh unstoppable. Here...he was nothing but a fool with a gun. A gun that was dangerously empty for their current predicament. "No sign of any dead down here, but stay cautious. Bet you a warm meal the fuckers will ambush us without a second thought."

Hearing Fionn mumble and following his gaze, Traveller spotted the newcomers as well. However, he barely had time to study the figures in the distance, not that he would have been able identify them at that distance anyway, before the wind picked up. Then, like Fionn, his head turned to see the building surge of energy at the obelisk.

After the gathering energy was released in a terrifying wave of necromantic energies, Traveller adjusted his stance to something more suitable for the situation, then he stood still in the eerie quiet for a moment, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Sure enough, a hand thrust through the sand near them. Then another and another. Soon enough, there was the beginnings of an army rising from their sandy graves. Fionn yelled to get moving and Traveller did just that. Voph, after what appeared to be a brief hesitation to stay, had already descended and had announced that it was clear, for now. Traveller took a look over his shoulder at the approaching undead before descending as well.

Nearing the obelisk, Zharak felt a familiar feeling begin to bubble up in his stomach. Fighting and surviving in Rzail had taught him a sort of sense for when something nasty was on its way. This feeling came true as the flash of light came, and the wretched undead came to feel the weight of his mace upon their skulls.

A good amount skeletal body parts were trampled by his automated wagon, but more were coming by the second. It wouldn't be long before the bastards would slow down his transport and try to take him down with it. Someone should have told them that a dwarf isn't so easily killed!

With skeletons starting to crawl along the side of his automated wagon, he made sure it was heading towards the obelisk before brandishing his weapon. "Loch Nogosh!" He yelled as he brought his mace down on the first skull that was near him. When it shattered into bits, the rest of the skeleton came apart, and Kazadime charged ahead to stop the undead filth from sabotaging his clockwork engine. With a few swings, some shouting and grit, he dispatched the skeletons trying to slow him down.

Now he had to deal with being on a collision course with a massive group of skeletons surging towards the entrance of the obelisk.

Taking his bag of grenades, Zharak pulled the pin off of one, shoved it into the engine and prepared to jump. At just the right time, he made the leap, rolling as he hit the sand and recovering just in time to get his shield out as the grenade went off. The blooming flower of fire and metal made short work of heavy group of skeletons that would have rushed the entrance if not for his intervention. Heavy boot steps followed as he made his way to the entrance.

"Out of my way! There's more of them just waiting to rip us all to shreds!" He said, knowing that trying to fight such a horde was impossible. Protocol dictated that the Ashen-Hammers would not engage, and would instead retreat to a safe location to hunt whatever remnants of the undead would be wandering the wastes afterward. Now was not the time for protocol however, now was the time to gain the vengeance his people had been seeking for too long now.

The lanky creature twisted his body, loosening the buttons which held his drapes closed. With this, Sciaac revealed yet another bizarre thing regarding his anatomy. Folded across his chest were an additional set of arms strategically placed to maintain quick draw functionality in case of emergency. With these extra appendages, he would not draw his weapons, however. Instead, he’d maneuver on a pivot, slithering his way behind Arem, locking his arms in an iron clasp like grip around his chest from behind. “Do not be alarmed…” he spoke in a raspy but sophisticated voice. “I only intend to transport us the most efficient way…”

Using his upper limbs, the creature extended his arms onto a tall stone structure; digging his claws into it so deep it began to protrude on the inner steel. Pulling back, he worked to create tension and gradually he built it to an extreme magnitude. Gazing into the atmosphere, it was apparent the conditions were only becoming more severe, but his headstrong nature was on full display. Releasing his talon grip on the pavement, both he and Arem were whipped into the sky, immediately being pelted by intense winds and varying clods of moisture. Holding his body tight, they torpedoed into the haze, which obscured their vision, but kept them into a relatively straight path. When reaching their apex, Sciaac’s biosuit adjusted in compliance with his morphing body shape, allowing his webbed, wing-like limb connectors to glide them both a considerable distance. In not much time, they would reach their destination, although the duo was bound to regret it.

With the interfering winds, there was simply no way to make a gentle landing. “Brace yourself” was the only warning Sciaac could give, but even then he was blindsided by a light which unknowingly to him was a byproduct of necromantic energies. Realizing he was low to the ground, Sciaac dropped Arem about nine feet or so out of the sky before crashing several meters further down. Clenching his body unrealistically tight, the alien creature was able to minimize much of the collision with the earth. His rubber-like frame in combination with his biosuit, aided him greatly, though, his landing was far from graceful. He had another problem afoot.

Sciaacs fall sent him bowling into a portion of the undead horde. In some ways this worked in damaging a few, but overall placed the creature in unfavorable position. In the very early stages of being ravaged by the multitude of creatures, he could not help but scramble for a grip of one of his powerful firearms. Every other free limb was occupied in attempts to fend off a skeleton right on top of him. In the struggle, he was baptized in rotted, once hanging flesh all over his body and face, cascading him in an unbearable scent. He now reeked of a carcass. Much to his luck, he and his new found companion were close to the pillars entrance, but with as much progress as they made, in the end, it could all be for naught. Such is the nature of Rzail.

"Oh wow, look axe lady! It's the skylights! In my town they were all sorts of rainbow colors, but here they're just only green. So cool! Is it just me, or they getting brighter? Hey--ahh!"

Ivas shielded his eyes from the blinding flash of green necromancer energies that washed over the land, taking a moment to recover afterwards.

"Hey, where'd the skylights go?"

It finally occurred to him that those might not just have been atmospheric phenomena when the ground started to burst apart in dozens of places.

"Holy crap!"

Spoopy undead by the gallon, and none of these were cute girls, either. Even Ivas knew that these ones were monsters! Ack! Now he enjoyed slaying a good monster just as much as the next questing hero, but here he'd bitten off a few thousand more than he could chew! Edge whipped left, right, down, and all around, easily clearing all the ones that had risen up within close reach of him, but he had to get moving fast or else he'd get mobbed down. Edge granted him plenty of skill and some unusual ways to attack, but not any kind of raw power that was suitable for taking out a whole army of bad guys. Quickly surveying the situation, Ivas saw that there was a doorway in one of the big mound things surrounding the giant obelisk. It was the only place to go that he could see.... if nothing else, they could barricade themselves inside to buy time. Hopefully there would be some townspeople in there who knew how to help, and not just more zombies and spooks!

"C'mon axe lady! We've gotta get to that round stone house! Maybe that wagon thingie can get us there, it's closer!"

Ivas initiated his tried-and-true technique for enemies that were slow and squishy yet numerous, holding Edge straight out in front of him as the pommelstone began to glow. The magic blade turned sideways at a ninety-degree angle, so that it ran parallel to Ivas's body, then began to spin at high speed to form a big rotary fan. Bracing his sword arm with his other hand and keeping it held straight forward, he advanced into the legions of the dead, with his magic sword buzzsaw serving the duel purpose of chewing baddies into paste while also flinging all the resulting gore and viscera away from him. Just like trimming the hedges back home!

He made it to the trundling dwarf wagon just in time, as the number of skeletons was starting to get too many for his weapon to easily chop up. Returning the sword to its natural form, Ivas dove expertly between two of while slashing off the legs of the last one blocking his way, kicking its skull aside with a cheerful "Coming through!" as he charged over it.... just in time for the wagon to randomly explode!

"Agghhh!!"

Luckily, the spirit in the blade reacted faster than any human could, acting automatically to protect its wielder. The blade's enchanted steel fanned out into the shape of a forward-facing umbrella, peeling back closer to the hilt and around Ivas's body on all sides. This caused the explosion send him tumbling through the air, jumbled and jostled about something fierce, but ultimately not hurt very badly. The boy did hit his head pretty hard on the landing, though, and laid dazed for a moment as dead hands began to grasp and tug at his clothes.

"Uhhhh, greenie girl? Is that you? I'm sorry, I lost your hand, I don't--hey! You're not--"

Remembering where he was, Ivas scrambled away from the zombies and jumped to his feet. As luck would have it, his flight had landed him right in front of the doorway he'd been trying to get to all along! He rushed inside, wondering if axe lady had made it through or not.

"Hello! Anybody home? Axe lady? Wagon guy? Hello!" he called into the darkness behind him, while keeping guard over the doorway to cut down any wayward undead who tried to wander inside. They didn't seem to have any particular purpose or direction besides going after someone they could actively see, so the bulk of the horde remained safely outside the cairn.

Nakreyya was already in motion before Fionn yelled for them to move. Fast, and light on her feet, she was up in the trees to get herself over the horde, scrutinizing her best course of action for a brief second. Ultimately, she let Fionn take care of himself and instead moved toward Grug, intending to assist in defending him if he needed more time to get away from what was coming.

Daggers flashed to her hands as she fell down out of the trees, but they were used sparingly. She more often swept the feet out from under the undead, creating roadblocks of flailing bodies to slow down the onslaught. If she attacked during the advancing retreat, it was usually to cut an Achilles tendon or some other similarly necessary bit of musculature - wanting to prevent the undead from getting back up.

When they were finally in the hallway, she paused only a moment to make sure Grug was unharmed before slipping silently toward the front of the group, intending to scout ahead. She touched Fionn's arm as she passed him, to let him know she had made it in alright. "I will holler if I see anything dangerous," she said in a low voice.

With her magically enhanced eye covering, and her sharp ears, she began to scan down the hallway, listening for breezes that would indicate other methods of exit. Even if they were not looking to leave now, she did not cherish the idea of being stuck down here, nor having to go through the massive numbers of undead they had just left behind. Seemingly without fear she moved forward; crouched low, barely making a sound - she was prepared to yell for the others should anything decide to leap out at her.

@Silvan Haven @Hekazu @EchoesofOld @Mataus @Ciaran @Normie @Tristwich @SpawnMeme @Kasai Uchiha

Rosa wasn't the fastest to react to Fionn's cry - most of the others were cheating, not that she'd complain - but she was still fast, and soon it became apparent that drawing her weapon prematurely had been the correct decision. She fought hard in the tight quarters, combining elbow strikes and knee stomps with shotgun blasts and even a few bites, but, of course, the numbers were far too great for the group to hold back, and she was rapidly forced to retreat into the opening.

Thankfully, a sudden explosion helped to lighten the load. Rosa quickly recognised the actor in this counterattack as the red-haired dwarf who subsequently came running inside, and made a mental note to thank him later. In terms of attrition, it wouldn't make much difference, if only because of the huge numbers they were fighting against. But, what it achieved in terms of relieving pressure from the group was invaluable; Rosa had a few seconds in which she could safely reload before the rest of the horde arrived. "Anyone have any ways to seal this behind us?" she asked. "We need to end this fight now."

Whatever answer she might recieve would have to take place in battle, because, once again, the horde struck, and Rosa, once again, fought for her life.

The flash of green energy came as a surprise to the Oracle. Not that he hadn't seen it before, he knew exactly what was going to happen from the moment he first saw the energy gather at the top of the obelisk. The undead would rise. But it was much too soon! The lich had not yet awakened, and if it had it hadn't won yet! How could its armies rise now, of all times? But if it was happening, it was doing just so. And he knew that once the restless dead would begin digging themselves out, there would be no turning the tide of them. There was no warrior among them that could take them all on. Even their power counted together would sparsely take down a single wave of them. And they would just keep coming. He had seen them coming so many times...

Nakreyya's attention to his survival was welcome, but luckily it would not be specifically needed. He was not the fastest of those moving, oh no, but he could follow in the wakes they left behind themselves, not needing to fight for himself. This allowed him just the edge that let him reach the relative safety of the entrance. This entrance had been the last thing he had seen in his last trip beyond the Veil. He had seen it many times. It was important, that much was for sure. Having reached safety, he was left alone by the elf who headed onward to scout. With the other travelling companion gone, he instead sought to stand near Fionn, wanting somebody familiar with his capabilities and weaknesses alike close by.

The girl with a wolvish disposition around her (and terribly loud weapons to boot) called for someone to seal the entrance. If only he could, he would have offered. But the best he could do was feeble illusion. Slammy could undoubtedly complete the task, but that would not end well... the group would end up caved in and Slammy never retreated without a kill. And if zombies were out... Who would be left? Nobody they would be willing to sacrifice, that's who.

@Silvan Haven@CoyoteLovely@EchoesofOld@Mataus@Ciaran