'Look up!', He yelled,
pointing upwards.
Shirral looked up, her
face turning pale at the sight.
The robed undead, five
in strength, were about to hit them. They were too fast to load Alvaren onto
the saddle and flee. All that was left now was a desperate defence. She drew
her dagger.
'Uh, do you want my
sword?', Alvaren offered.
'Too slow, too heavy',
she replied. 'You use it in case they come at you.'
That was all they had
time for. The undead landed - or, well, stopped right over the ground - softly,
their fiery eyes set at the living. A dagger and her reflexes against lightning
fast claws coupled with deafening shrieks. And no combat experience with them,
either. Do they even die when hit, like a normal skeleton?
They advanced at her,
deathly grins matching with their intentions. She hesitated for a moment, then
slowly backed off, closer to Alvaren.
The horse, as if it
didn't realise they had company, was minding its own business by a tree next to
him, oblivious to the impending danger.
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