The group fell into formation as En'Aranthea nodded with satisfaction, pleased with how well each individual used their strengths for the good of the group. She's not worried to tell clerics and mages their tasks, nor the rogue, Blair. She'd trust that they would seize their opportunities as they saw them.

With two stalwart fighters at her side, En'Aranthea considered her forward progress, hoping that the day's end would see them laughing over a minor fright in the shadows of dusk. When Jarenion called out his warning and the ghouls ahead revealed their horrid faces, En'Aranthea's face grew grim, but determined. She let the song in her throat soar in response to her blade being drawn, the metallic ring resonating in harmony. She felt time slow as the battle trance took her, the world fading to leave only foes and allies crystal clear.

She quickened her pace to close the gap, but didn't race ahead, anticipating ranged attacks from her colleagues. She held her blade two-handed, to her left and slightly behind, so that she presented her left shoulder first. As she closed with the nearest of the creatures (DM to determine closest), she slid effortlessly from a trot into The Sun's Path, an sweeping attack the brought the sword up and over her head to slice down into her opponent.

OOC: Tactics - En'A will try to time her attack to be immediately after the ranged attacks, moving from one attack to another. Once engaged, she will keep herself between the enemy and the mage & clerics, giving them the best protection she can.

11th Sempore (Thirkday), 453 E.R.
Woods near the village of Crandel (west of the Indigo river, near the Sendrian border)
Galardil took no special pride in being right in his observation that the Unliving Shamblers were now mounting an attack against himself and his friends.

Rather, he held his position with grim determination, taking heed to the barked command from the leadership of the Bladesinger Sylvari En'Aranthea, as excellent a tactician as any he had ever had the pleasure to serve with in battle; as well as intriguing to watch when she dispatched her enemies.

Jarenion had alerted the group as to the description of the evil taint that drew ever nearer. Then the Sylvari mage had unleashed yet another spell, intending to bombard the now revealed adversaries with some type of hail stones.

So the servant of Kith-jora refrained from immediately attempting to Turn the Undead foes, not wanting to somehow interfere with the mage spell by mistake in his haste to dispatch their Unliving adversaries.

He restrained himself by focusing on the Khord War Club he held in his right hand, drawing on the memories of battles won and the Unliving Turned, in past encounters, before he ever joined his current extended family.

Galardil timed himself to unleash his ability to Turn Undead in harmony with the orchestrated attacks of his comrades in arms, summoning the power of Kith-jora to channel the positive energy of nature through his Khord War Club, to thwart the negative energy of the approaching Shamblers!

(((Tactics: Turn Undead, followed by slinging the stone against any target far enough away from him that failed to be turned. Galardil will not be casting any spells, choosing rather to dispatch his foes with his Khord War Club, saving his spells to help heal any injured party members. So he will put away his sling and swing his club using both hands together. He will make sure that Jarenion is protected from any advancing Unliving foes, rushing to attack any of the Shamblers who manage to break through the ranks and threaten his long time friend the mage! He will utilize his non-weapon proficiency Blind Fighting to utilize his Khord War Club with his Holy Symbol engraved in the 'sweet spot' to dispatch any and all Shamblers he confronts!)))

As Danon came forward and called for a stop to the advance Ta’Arms lowered his own shield slightly and stopped the rhythmic beating. A few of the others sheathed their swords; Ta’Arms could hear the blades being returned to their peaceful resting place.

As the shadowy group in the distance still trudged onward, Ta’Arms and his companions moved from a position of attack to alertness. It was then Kith-Jora’s own Jarenion called out a bit of a warning again, “Mind yourselves!”
Ta’Arms took note of this new warning and lifted his shield slightly and gripped his sword. It was then it happened! To Ta’Arms it seemed like a crack of thunder to others it was but a twig cracking under foot. Back in the day one of the soldiers would have beaten him for such a mistake. His head looked down and there it was under foot, a simple broken twig. Ta’Arms then looked up, ‘Had they heard it?’ he thought to himself.

Yes, they had. His blood ran cold. As if the springtime thaw itself pumped from his own heart. His feet grew very heavy. He had seen rotting bodies before, sometimes four or even five days old before fire or a hole in the ground consumed them. These had found neither and they moved. Their bodies seemed beyond repulse yet still they moved as the living. Some had great black orbs for eyes and still some had no eyes at all, yet Ta’Arms knew he was being watched or more like seen. As they all looked upon him or so he felt.

Ta’Arms was to shaken to notice that one stood out from the living dead, twisted and quite able to move about. Then the giggling took hold of his ears and Ta’Arms could control it no longer. He soiled his tunic.

“ONDOR ARMEK!” broke the deafening silence that held Ta’Arms and brought him back to the here and now. A mighty roar came from Ta’Arms as he once again moved forward into battle.

OOC: Ta’Arms will keep with the Lady En’Aranthea, protecting her flank as she times our arrival into combat to fallow the ranged and arcane attacks. He will, when the foes are great assist the Lady En’Aranthea if the foes are not as great will move to attack alone leading with shield fallowed with sword and then move to the next always keeping the location of the party behind and the enemy to the front. He will fall back on campfire talk (QA) to adjust his tactics as his fellow combatants see fit. He hopes in time he and those whom he travels with will become a force to reckon with. Dog will run and hide to avoid combat as much as possible unless the mage or cleric he is hiding behind needs help. Then dog will attack.

Foul creatures. The figures had been hoped to be simply travellers, although perhaps ailed ones, but instead, it became all too clear what their real natures were when the distance between the two groups closed. The atmosphere grew tense, neither seemingly acting towards the other, until a single sound broke the tension. Everything then happened at once.

Rae gritted her teeth, So be it, this battle is joined. There was no backing down now.

Rae drew her blade, her eyes narrowing as she focused. She could hear some of the actions of her companions around her. A song of battle begun by the blade maiden to her right, her form far more elegant than Rae ever could be. Words and prayer of power invoked behind her as Rae stepped forward, matching her pace to the advance of the other two warriors. Hopefully it'd be timed such that they'd meet their foes after magic and missile landed. Together they would form a wall of wood and steel, by which to keep these foes back. At least, that was what she hoped.

In her mind, the world faded until only the group of companions, the road beneath their feet, and the creatures remained. Rae would try to keep track of their movements, and by her will, she would keep the others safe as best as she could.

((Rae is going to try to keep the creatures back as best as she can, slashing with her blade at ones that try to get past her, targeting their legs if possible to hinder their movement, and using her shield to aid in her own defence. If she needs to, she'll step to try to put herself in the way of ones trying to pass. Once she's certain that she has and can keep the attention of the ones targeting her, she'll attack defensively if there's too many or if she's flanked, otherwise she'll attack normally with her blade. Rae might try to bash at the gibbering ghoul's head with her shield in an attempt to perhaps slightly stun it, but only if she has a clear shot and isn't too threatened.))

Rae's words had struck a chord in Danon, he should of known she would be mindful, but nonetheless he held his ground before the readied warriors, his head tilted to the side and a glare that seemed to say 'still, heed my words'. He did not enjoy confronting his own companions, typically trusting in their judgement, but things felt off this night.

When En'Aranthea spoke in agreement to his sentiment, Danon felt a wave of relief; perhaps this foreboding weather was simply putting him on edge. The group heeded the bladesinger's words, which, much to Danon's pleasure, involved putting weapons away until any real threat could be determined, and together they advanced with much caution.

Jarenion, still particularly mindful of the unnatural forces about them, sought to relieve them of some worry through divination. However his findings confirmed their worst fears, for Galardil's initial outburst had been proven true.

As Danon and his companions grew nearer to the shambling travelers, their truly ghoulish nature became visible. Danon's stomach heaved and the bitter taste of vomit edged into his mouth. He forced himself to keep it down, trying to steel himself; he had yet to become accustomed to seeing the dead walk. Where his stomach lurched, his heart felt heavy. Such creatures broke the laws of nature, and were a threat to the well-being of the people Danon swore to aide, but more than that they were a mockery of the deceased; the poor souls deserved rest.

A twig snapped underfoot as they neared, drawing the attention of the undead, previously seeming oblivious to their presence, directly upon them. The sudden maniacal giggling of one of the abominations was bone chilling.

Danon's companions jumped into action, falling into position with seemingly fluid motion.

Hearing Galardil begin a call to Kith-jora for aid in fending off the creatures, Danon determined he had a moment to aid his allies before making a call of his own to the Chancellor of Light, Merca; he kept pace with the warriors.

Hastily reaching into his belt-pouch, Danon retrieved a strip of white cloth, the ends of which he dabbed with resin. The cloth in one hand, and his holy symbol in another, Danon began another sort of call.

"It is our duty to see these souls laid to rest" He spoke aloud, laying a hand upon Rae's shoulder. Danon could tell she was giving the others time to act."May the wisdom of the Chancellor see your blade strike true in fulfillment of this goal"

((OOC: Danon is casting Aid upon Rae, even if it involves moving up into the fray; the chainmail is not just for show.

Otherwise he moves to a middle position between the warriors, and the casters and rogue (assuming Jarenion, Galardil, and Blair are further back).

If more than half of the undead remain unturned after Galardil's call to Kith-jora, Danon will try his own call to Merca (Turn Undead), then ready his mace.

In the case that one of the creature gets past the front line, Danon will move to intercept them to strike with his mace.

In the case where any party member becomes overwhelmed, Danon will move to their defense. If the opportunity arises he will cast CLW to mend their wounds.))

The giggling monstrosity moves dreadfully fast, closing the ground between the undead and the party faster than anyone would believe. Ta'Arms is ready for it, and deals a mighty blow with his blade that staggers the creature.

It shrugs off the damage, however, and leaps at the big man, burying one set of its filthy claws, as well as its sharp teeth, into his exposed flesh.

The strong warrior feels a dank, unholy chill creep into his very bones, and discovers in horror that he can no longer move!

Jarenion begins casting, as Blair fires a bolt. The angle is too poor to risk a shot at the giggling monster, so the rogue settles on one of the other abominations. His shot is true, and the bolt buries itself deeply in the chest of the shuffling creature, but it pay the attack no mind and continues to lurch forward.

En'Aranthea moves to the aid of Ta'Arms, gracefully whirling her blade into a deadly arc that slashes deeply into the undead monster, but still, it stands.

Jarenion finishes his incantation, and like Blair, elects to target the further creatures to preserve the safety of the front line warriors. Stones fall from the sky, striking three of the creatures.

Danon speaks a prayer to his goddess, laying his hands on the holy warrior of Falloes. Merca answers her servant's call, and Rae can feel the divine favor flow into her body.

Rae moves up to further support Ta'Arms in his vulnerable state, and the shield maiden's blow lands true. Finally, the undead creature has absorbed more damage than it can withstand, and the giggling falls silent as it slumps into the mud.

Galardil steps up and brandishes his holy symbol of Kith-jora. Boldly, he rebukes the undead abominations, and as one, they turn and flee!

There is only a moment's respite, however, as you realize that several more of the undead creatures are emerging from both sides of the road. While they do move slowly, they will surely flank the party if nothing is done.

Worse still, more insane giggling can be heard from the mist behind the zombies emerging to the party's left...

The shambling gait of the abominations that the party faced had gone a good way in deceiving Jarenion where the gibbering ghoul was concerned and, as the fang-mawed creature closed ground with a speed the mage was unprepared for, he opted to target the creatures farther out rather than risk En’Aranthea and the other warriors being caught by his spell…

This is a foul omen for Crandel, I imagine, he thought as his hailstones fell with decent effect upon the shamblers, I do hope that these are not the citizens of that village... but this doesn’t bode well.
…His violet eyes flicked back to the warriors, then, and noticed, as Galardil was turning what remained of the first group of undead, that Ta’Arms was statue-still and Rae had positioned herself defensively near the barbarian…

No… this bodes not at all well.
… One of the mage’s slender hands dipped into his satchel, again, and, this time, came out with a small, clay-wrought hand as more shamblers emerged from the mist on either side of the road. His fingers now closed around the little clay hand, Jarenion began another incantation even as he moved a bit closer to where Ta’Arms was currently held fast, and, when the terrible tittering sounded from the forest to the party’s left, he made his decision as to where this particular spell should be directed. The arcane chant rumbled in his chest much as a tremor might rumble in the earth and, upon it’s completion, Jarenion pointed at a spot on the left-hand side of the road some distance between where the barbarian stood motionless and the track’s edge.

((Assuming, here, that the spell doesn’t fail outright and the earthen arm appears… ))

“Mind yourselves near that earthen arm, melloneamin,” he cautioned the others as his mind began selecting yet another spell, “should I be unable to pay it heed, it may not easily distinguish friend from foe!”

((OOC: Okay… just a bit of fluff and RP, here. As noted, J will position himself closer to Ta’arms and cast Max’s Earthen grasp in hopes it will provide some bit of defense for our frozen compatriot. Thereafter, tactics are much the same as described in the Q&A but somewhat reversed in this case, let’s try a volley or two of magic missilefirst (against the shamblers) and when/if our next giggler appears and makes itself a viable target we’ll ramp up spell-power and hit it with something with a bit more oomph.))

That was not good. The creatures in front of them that weren't slain were fleeing, yes, but the 'giggler', as Rae mentally labelled it, had struck faster than any of them were prepared for.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Rae asked after slashing the creature off Ta'Arms. She snapped her fingers in front of him, before holding the pommel of her blade in front of his mouth. A slight misting confirmed his breathing at least.

Rae gritted her teeth as she heard more rustling. That could only mean more creatures. She tested the man's weight, with one hand under his armpit. It was hardly an accurate test, but it was still enough to confirm what she knew in the back of her mind; carrying him would not be an option here.

"I'm not strong enough to carry him." Rae noted, "We'll need to defend him until he recovers."

Raising her shield, she took up one of the two points, where the sounds seemed like they were going to come to. Rae steeled herself, setting her feet firmly onto the worn dirt that was their road. She would not let them strike down any of her friends, especially not one that couldn't defend themselves (even if only temporarily), not while she could help it.

(Similar tactic as before, try to give them a target to keep them there rather than attacking the others, and slash at the legs of ones that try to just go past her. Attacks defensively if there's too many or she's flanked.)

From within the battle trance, time seemed to slow, so that the bladesinger could see movement before it had really begun, and react with blinding speed and precision. It also washed away emotion so any fear En'Arathea may have felt in the face of the giggling horror was merely a distant murmur in her heart, as was the regret and chagrin when she realized Ta'Arms was not only hurt, but immobilized. There would be time enough for that, later. If they lived. Rather, all figures, friend and foe, were pieces on a huge board, to be moved about in battle.

"I'm not strong enough to carry him." Rae noted to the group, having moved closest to their afflicted companion, "We'll need to defend him until he recovers."

En'Aranthea nodded, and called to the group, "Rally 'round Ta"Arms, mellonamin! A defensive circle to keep our foes at bay whilst he recovers his freedom or we best them all!" She whirled her blade in a defensive figure eight around herself as she did so, the blade ringing with fury as it cut the air instead of foes.

She noted Rae's position and made her stand to the maiden's right, leaving enough room for both warriors to move freely. She took note of the others moving into position, and of Jarenion's warning as he cast his spell.

OOC: Ena will fight defensively to protect Ta'Arms until she figures out the zombies weakness, though I'm thinking it's the gigglers that compel the others to attack. If that proves true, she will do her best to engage any giggler that approaches, but not at the cost of protecting Ta'Arms.

As the Ta’Arms pushes aside his fear of the forthcoming battle, it was then the Giggling monstrosity from the undead pits of the underworld moves with the speed of the charging undead upon a horse. Ta’Arms set his stance and made ready on swift movement his blade cut deep into his adversary. The Monster stops its change, a smile drifts across Ta’Arms face but soon went to horror as the Monster looks up from the gaping wound and lunges at. The shield of Ta’Arms deflects one clawed hand but the other slashes Ta’amrs, a scream of pain rips the cold air as the sharp teeth found exposed flesh.

Ta’Arms suddenly feels as all in his stomach wishes to find the outside once again. A cold chill from the under world grips his very bones and he feels as if mud has gripped his body and he can no longer move.

The battle continues around Ta’Arms, the confusion of battle sets in. In a blurry flash of steal and the light of the arcane arts, TapArms now hears the silence as the giggling falls silent. Still the cold grip holds his body in its cold grasp.

Ta’Arms mind was racing, to often a fallen warrior was left in the heat of battle and in his state he knew he would surly soon fall to the walking undead. These fears were put to the side when he heard a the voice of Jarenion close to him but from such a small frame came his voice but it was booming as if a giant spoke them.

‘Hey! Are you okay?’ he heard the Lady Rae ask. Ta’Arms for the first time in his life wanted to truly speak but found he could not. A sound and more creatures approach, Ta’Arms knew the others must look to the battle and knew in his heart they must carry on. Ta’Arms knew his fait.

‘I’m not strong enough to carry him. We’ll need to defend him until he recovers.’ The Lady Rae turned and readied for battle.

‘What is this? The road is no place to battle! Not one front but two! What are you doing? Even I know this and I am but fodder for Kings and Knights’ Ta’Arms long to grab this woman and tell, ‘Fall back and find another battleground.’

It was then he heard "Rally 'round Ta"Arms, mellonamin! A defensive circle to keep our foes at bay whilst he recovers his freedom or we best them all!" The Ladies blade sang in her hand. For the first time Ta’Arms just watched the beauty that was the dance of a bladesinger before battle.

His body might be held but a lump filled his throat, a swelling in his chest of pride and those he traveled with did not see him as fodder but worthy of a stand. His mind longed for a battle cry, his lungs filled with the wanting to cry out in rage, joy, fear, and courage all at once but the big man stood fast, unmoving except a single tear that escape the bonds on eye and ran down his cheek.

11th Sempore (Thirkday), 453 E.R.
Woods near the village of Crandel (west of the Indigo river, near the Sendrian border)
Galardil steps up and brandishes his holy symbol of Kith-jora. Boldly, he rebukes the undead abominations, and as one, they turn and flee!

There is only a moment's respite, however, as you realize that several more of the undead creatures are emerging from both sides of the road. While they do move slowly, they will surely flank the party if nothing is done.

Worse still, more insane giggling can be heard from the mist behind the zombies emerging to the party's left...
Galardil had no time to either rejoice or thank his deity as the Shamblers were turned away by the authority the Cleric of Kith-jora wielded with his Dwarven War Club and the Holy Symbol engraved in its 'Sweet Spot' for such uncanny occasions as this!

More Shamblers were emerging from the woods to their left, urged on as if being herded towards the company of heroes by an unnaturally sinister giggling, much like that of the now silenced abomination that lay mute and motionless in the mud on the road.

Then above the sound of the eerie giggling from the woods to their left, the Half Syl heard Rae cry out:

"I'm not strong enough to carry him." Rae noted to the group, having moved closest to their afflicted companion, "We'll need to defend him until he recovers."

En'Aranthea nodded, and called to the group, "Rally 'round Ta"Arms, mellonamin! A defensive circle to keep our foes at bay whilst he recovers his freedom or we best them all!" She whirled her blade in a defensive figure eight around herself as she did so, the blade ringing with fury as it cut the air instead of foes.

She noted Rae's position and made her stand to the maiden's right, leaving enough room for both warriors to move freely. She took note of the others moving into position, and of Jarenion's warning as he cast his spell.
Galardil responded to the instructions of the Bladesinger by taking a defensive position to the far right of the group of warriors. Grasping his Khord War Club with both hands, the Cleric of Kith-jora stood ready to respond to the slowly oncoming newcomers, in any way he deemed necessary!

(((Tactics: Galardil stands ready to unleash his non-weapon proficiency Blind Fighting to utilize his Khord War Club with its Holy Symbol engraved in the 'sweet spot' that faces the approaching otherworldly enemy, ready to dispatch any and all Shamblers he confronts!)))

Blair was pleased with his shot and a smile crept onto his face. The bolt had sunk into his ghastly foe and he was sure he had felled at least one of the aberrations before him. He was wrong. The undead figure groped slowly forward not even registering the pain which the few inches of steel must have surely caused. His smile changed to horror as he realised what he was facing.

His companions had not fared quite so well. Ta'Arms had frozen on the spot when the jaws of the giggling monstrosity closed in on his flesh. The others rallied around their comrade. Blair given the courage by the heroism of his party joined their defensive ring. He slung the crossbow over his back and drew his dagger and short sword, choosing to dual wield. He was hoping to use the dagger as a defence to ward off any sharp claws or teeth.

He stood in position hoping that he wouldn't die in the miserable obscurity of a dirt road in the drizzly weather. His father had said to him that a man's legacy lies in three types of death. First his soul dies and everything he once was is erased when the brain shuts down. Second is the burial, or decomposition of his body, the final farewells of his friends and family. Thirdly is his legacy the final stage of death is the last time his name is mentioned. He had no friends or family to speak of and his fame of the circus had long since dried up. This could very well be it all three deaths in one foul stroke. His brief imprint on the world wiped out by a group of undead and their hysterical leader.

(OOC: Blair chooses to dual wield using his dagger and short sword. I think this is on his sheet it was a while ago though! He will fall into position around Ta'Arms on one of the flanks, possibly next to Danon.)

Danon's eyes had flcicked shut in the moments of his prayers, a habit to focus his mind as he became a conduit for divine energies. In that moment he had missed Ta'Arms' confrontation with the gibbling monstrosity, and the speed at which it had struck back at the warrior. It was not until he had felt Rae move to their comrade's aid that the young priest viewed the scene once more. The shield maiden's blow landed true, silencing the monster, just as Galardil stepped forward to rebuke the other undead. A breif glimmer of hope within the suffocating confines of the mist.

However, the company would have only the breifest of moments to process the true danger they were in; more shambling figures were emerging from both sides, and Ta'Arms remained immobile. Worse, none could carry the warrior, nor would they likely have the time to do so.

There was no hesitation in En'Aranthea's call for a defensive formation. Rae and the bladesinger turned to face
a new source of sinister laughter eminating from the left of the road, and while Galardil moved to their aid,
Danon sought to protect the exposed flank behind them, hoping Merca would lend him the strength to ensure their safety.

The night still felt stange. Despite the dire nature of the situation, Danon had yet to draw his weapon to meet his foes. Even now he found himself unconsciously reaching for a small mirror within his beltpouch rather than his mace, a means, he prayed, to further protect Ta'Arms should his resolve fail to turn the tide of undead approaching his position. Danon took comfort in Blair's movement to stand beside him, for calling upon the strength of Merca would leave him vulnerable. Steeling his nerves, the young priest began to pray.

((OOC: Danon is preparing to turn the undead approaching from the right side of the road, relying on his companions to slow the approach of the left flank. Afterwards, Danon will cast Sanctuary on Ta'Arms if the warrior has yet to regain his strength provided the threat is still great. Only then (if Ta'Arms is either 'safe' or acting on his own) will Danon heft his mace from his beltloop and commit to combat))

The companions take up a defensive ring around Ta'Arms, as the big warrior can do naught but watch. For the briefest of moments, it seems that the threat may have passed, but then, the brush fairly explodes with atrocities that insult the very order of life by their existence.

A giggling monstrosity lauches itself from cover, but En'Arenthea is there to intercept. With a graceful slash, she cleaves a huge gash in its abdomen, but rather than flee, the thing focuses its hateful visage onto the bladesinger.

On the other side of the road, several of the shuffling, corpse-like figures emerge. Rae is likewise prepared, and she drives her blade completely through the chest of one of the rotting attackers... which continues to press on in mindless determination!

Galardil tries to assist the shield maiden, but the twilight itself proves treacherous, concealing a root that entangles the priest's foot. Kith-jora's servant stumbles badly, barely managing to retain the hold on his war club - certainly doing no harm to his unliving foes.

Meanwhile, the giggling monstrosity that bore the brunt of En'Aranthea's blade gathers itself and redirects its attacks at the comely sylvari maid. It rends the air with claws, though the bladesinger is too swift to be thus struck, but it does manage to land a vicious bite with enfouled fangs to her forearm. The wound itself is not serious, though for the briefest of moments, the sylvari feels the chill of the grave try to force its grip around her very life essence. Fortunately, she is able to shake both the creature and the chill.

Meanwhile, Jarenion completes a chant, and a hand suddenly reaches from beneath the ground and grabs the giggling creature firmly around one leg. It squeals in alarm and attempts to pull free, but appears to be powerless to do so.

Danon draws his own holy symbol from beneath his tunic, and channels the power of Merca. "Begone, foul creates of the grave!" he commands, his voice seemingly larger than should be possible from his body. "Begone!" At his command, roughly half of the shuffling attackers freeze in place, then turn and retreat.

Blair moves to assist En'Aranthea, and while the restricted creature manages to twist away from his thrusting sword, the rogue does score a stab with his dagger. It glares balefully at him, however, and does not fall.

And then, the crush of bodies are upon you. The cold flesh of the grave bludgeons and grasps at the party, and while none of the wounds are severe, the sheer numbers are troubling. Fortunately, however, the giggling creature is held firm in Jarenion's magical hand, which enables En'Aranthea to end its horrible existence.

The rest of the party accounts itself well; Rae and Galardil each drop foes, and Blair and Danon combine to fell another. These creatures continue to press on mindlessly, seemingly uncaring of any harm done to them, but eventually, the companions prevail, and the twilight once more falls silent.

The slobbering monstrosities closed around Blair and the rest of the party. Their weak groaning eerily mixed with that of the hysterical giggling of their leaders created a scene even Blair's nightmares could not create. Nevertheless Blair stood firm next to Danon despite the chattering of his teeth and the shaking of his hands.

As a mindless one the shamblers begun their attack. Blair waited as the other, braver, members of the party stepped forward to meet their assailants face to face. Blair saw his opportunity and stabbed his sword forward. His inexperience with the weapon meant he missed, but his dagger struck home and he congratulated himself with the second wound of the fight he had inflicted. His fear and doubt was now lost. He was focused and concentrated solely on dispatching the horrors which surrounded them.

Swiftly, the grizzly warband dispersed, it was surprise to Blair who had expected his greatest fight for survival. The others had dealt with their leaders and due to the divine fervour which some members of the party possessed the undead had fled. This gave a few seconds for Blair to reflect on the events of the past few minutes whilst each of them regained their composure.

When they had first saw the ragged, limping group of unfortunate travellers he had pictured in his mind some unfortunate refugee families fleeing from the most recent crisis which had enveloped their lives, such was the life of the peasant. He had imagined their feelings, experiences and hopes these were forever lost now victims of a dreadful monster. Their lives of love and hope had been traded to wreck death and despair. He could only hope that a similar fate did not await himself.