The wizard Rhistal was tired, soaking wet and hungry. The appalling condition of the trail had slowed him considerably, and he was very late in reaching Bow Shot and the Inn he understood it to contain. Not far now.
As he approached from the south he glimpsed some greenish light, and stopping and listening, thought he could hear a voice chanting what he thought were incantations. Noticing an over grown path leading off to his right towards the disturbance, he cautiously approached.
The path led to a long overgrown graveyard, and he thought he glimpsed a robe figure before it disappeared from view. And then he saw the circle of a lantern, emerging from sunken steps leading into a mausoleum. Grave robbers?
It was then he caught the elven voices. Elves at least then, although from their accents he deduced that these were of his wild cousins kin, rather than true High Elves like himself. Still, elves they were, and it was his responsibility that he see what they were up to.
As they emerged further he saw that two were elves, another – poor mite – a Halfling, and the other one of the demonbreed: a tiefling. More likely grave robbers then, with the elves being led astray by the others.
A tattered skeleton lurched forward out of the dark, and wounded the tiefling; before she could react another knocked her senseless. The Halfling shouted and released a gout of flame, setting four of the things alight. Rhistal moved forwards, the enchantment pouring from his lips. He gestured, and three bolts of light shot from the end of his staff, knocking down two of the skeletons. One of the remainder stepped forward and cut the halfling down.
He could see the two elves now, a female and a male. The male was clearly an archer, and he ran off to the side, presumably to put some distance between the undead and himself to try a shot; he saw him run around the corner of the building, and then emerge again with another of the skeletons on his heels. The female elf shrieked, and ran back inside the mausoleum, pursued by two of the skeletons.
But now he had his own problems. One he hadn’t noticed emerged out of the darkness and cut at him. He staggered backwards, and it cut at him again, the searing pain causing him to black out.
When he opened his eyes he gathered that very little time had passed. Peering around a gravestone he saw that one skeleton stood swaying in the darkness, presumably no current target in view. Ahead of him in the trees, he could hear the sounds of a running fight.
Miraculously the female elf emerged from the crypt, and shot a gout of flame at the skeleton. From the darkness an arrow followed soon after, and it fell to the ground. The male elf emerged from the shadows, and they pointed over in his vague direction. The female elf leaned down, and helped the tiefling to her feet. He decided that it was time to introduce himself.
As he limped towards them they looked up, and he noticed that the tiefling was shaking her head sadly over the Halfling.
“Dead” she pronounced. “That bastard Elrin has a deal to answer for.”
The three introduced themselves as Kaylin, Perrin and Makaria: apparently mercenaries hired by a local noble to assist him in resolving some curse within his family tomb. Unfortunately he appeared to have locked them in, trapped with a horde of undead.
“What’s that?” said Kaylee pointing.
The old cemetery was on the side of a low hill, and about a mile off, they could see a crocodile of about thirty torches heading in their general direction – presumably from the village.
“They’re chanting something!” she said. “Listen!” They listened. Eventually they realised what the villagers were chanting.
“It’s at this stage in the proceedings I usually exit town” said the tiefling. “I advise you all to do the same.”
“That rat bastard Elrin must have told them a pack of lies!” exclaimed Perrin, using language inappropriate for an elf, thought Rhistal. Pffft. Wild Elves.
“I can hear his voice egging them on!” he added.