Adventure of Celia Graves 2

The party has barely entered the buried antechamber when sealed stone plates split beneath their boots. Dust bursts upward, and three undead warriors drag themselves from the darkness.

Their corroded armor hangs in jagged layers, and black residue cakes their rusted weapons. Empty helms turn toward the living as cold sorcery exhales from the eastern passage.

Maurice plants himself between the warriors and the wounded man, drawing his weapon. Tomas pulls Brother Caldus behind a broken pillar while Elianor raises the lampglass.

Celia’s sanctified staff remains raised, her luminous ward enclosing Iven. The nearest corpse advances, and the eastern pulse beats harder, stirring residue along its blackened blade.

Destruction fire erupts from Celia’s sanctified staff and engulfs the nearest undead warrior. Its blackened armor splits, and the corpse collapses into ash before the eastern pulse can reclaim it.

Elianor thrusts the lampglass forward. Gold threads through Celia’s ward, spreading across Iven, Tomas, and Brother Caldus as the remaining undead lunge.

Maurice meets the second warrior head-on. His weapon crashes through its corroded guard, then strikes again with practiced force, breaking the corpse’s stance beneath the arch.

The third undead warrior raises its residue-caked blade, but Elianor’s golden barrier catches the descending blow. The impact scatters black dust across the stone instead of flesh.

Celia steps through the golden barrier and swings her flail in a tight arc. The iron head smashes into the undead warrior’s helm, crushing the dead command within.

The warrior collapses into armor and ash, but the impact rings through the antechamber. Black residue splashes across Celia’s sleeve, burning a shallow line along her forearm.

Elianor’s lampglass brightens, and golden threads draw the residue away from Celia’s skin. The burn remains painful, but the corruption finds no purchase.

Maurice wrenches his weapon free from the second warrior’s ruined guard. The corpse staggers beneath the arch, its black blade scraping stone as the passage exhales cold.

Celia drives forward through the thinning golden light, her flail rising as the undead warrior, a genderless undead corpse in corroded armor with an empty helm hauls its blackened blade from the stone.

The flail crashes into its helm with sanctified force. Pale fire races through the corroded armor, extinguishing the command buried within.

The warrior folds and collapses into ash and empty metal. The eastern pulse stutters, then falls silent, leaving only drifting black dust.

Elianor keeps the lampglass raised while its golden glow draws the last dust away from Celia’s burned sleeve. The shallow injury remains, clean of corruption.