The City of Kyndale.

"The dead wander these woods. Not even a mighty paladin such as you would be able to handle them all. The necromancer is in a cave just at the foot of the mountains. He seems to have been mistaken that ceremony and wit go hand in hand- the pathway to his cave is decorated by severed heads and some other severed part of his unfortunate victims."

Kyrian muttered, "Can't we just sneak in?"

The elf shook his head. "I attempted such, and well...I doubt that they even use their normal senses for detection to start. Maybe smell, but not vision or anything audible."

Emerith huffed, "We are masters of stealth. I bet we could.."

The elf smirked. "Your confidence is larger than the paladin's hammer. None can sneak past the dead, not even Archangel himself."

All the troupe members at once all muttered, "Who?"

The elf looked at the group. "Have you never heard the ancient tale of Archangel? Some say that he was a man, and others..." He turned his gaze to the paladin, who was glaring at him as he strayed away from the point. "A story for another time! Alas, there is something that the undead fear."
"The Gods," said the paladin.
"Aside from the divines. It seems as though flame has always been a capable weapon against the forces of the necromancers."

All the troupe member's eyes turned to Kyrian, but quickly then turned away as to not draw attention. Kyrian shrugged.

"Light the torches," said the elf. "It shall hold them at bay. I assume that, given the level of my former colleague's abilities, simply ending his spell will suffice. We must assume that he is the source of it as the caster, unless he has moved it to a runestone. They tend to be too...stationary...for a wizard, however. Particularly a necromancer."

Kyrian took out his torches and turned away from the rest of the group and lit them all one by one, he then proceeded to hand out the torches to the rest of his troupe.

The paladin narrowed his eyes on Kyrian. "You sure know how to make a fire, don't you? And you, elf, sure know much of magic."
"I have no doubt that you know much of magic too, my dear friend," said the elf. "You must know your enemy, correct?"
The paladin gave a small grunt, before gesturing forward. "Come on, let's deal with these heathens."

The troupe followed along, near the back of the group. Once again, they did not make a single sound as they traveled.

Eventually, the adventurers reached a trail that was marked well in the snow between a path of trees. It was a grizzly sight to behold when noting the manner in which it was marked, however.
Blood stained the ground along the way towards the cave's entrance, now visible in the very base of one of the towering mountains. Along either side of the trail were sticks that rose up from the ground, with something interesting atop them. It took a minute to clearly distinguish what they were in the darkness, but upon a second glance, many of the adventurers took note of the fact that there were severed heads atop them! The cuts did not seem clean, either- rather, the neck was jagged and uneven in such a way that it seemed as though the heads were ripped from the bodies, rather then cut clean. There was no limit on who the head belonged to: some were those of men, expressions of ferocity still upon their face. Others were women, their faces pained, no doubt as they lamented for the loss of their men and children before their own passing. Then, the worst of them all, children, still bearing the pure terror of their final moments.

Kyrian scowled, while Vanessë kept her face towards the ground. Emerith unconsciously walked a bit closer to Gaius.

Suddenly, there came the sound of labored breath nearby. The paladin stopped dead in his tracks, and Halthas turned to the side where it came from. To the great surprise of the entire group, some of the heads atop the pikes were not "dead" in a sense. Atop one of the sticks, the head of a young boy, his face swamped in blood-crusted black hair, twitched very slightly, two eyes that were as blue as the lakes of ice gently rolling about, as if watching the party. Almost unnoticed, his jaw very subtly twitched, as if he were trying in vain to cry out to the group.
The elf lowered his head, letting out a sigh.

Vanessë, Em, and Sky all shuddered while the men of the troupe hardened their faces. They all kept going forward slowly.

Eventually, the group reached the foot of a mountain, where the mouth of a cave opened up, revealing multiple stalagmites that ran vertically like pointed towers. A mist was hanging low in the cavern, enshrouding the view of the darkness that sat beyond.

Kyrian scowled at the total darkness, and put up his hood, that completely covered his eyes.

From within the cave, the echoes of labored footsteps could be readily heard. The elf slowly drew his shortened blade, revealing a sword that was coated in rust in places, seeming to barely even be sharpened.
The paladin lifted his massive hammer. "Come, heathens, come."

Emerith drew her bow and held an arrow at ready, Kyrian pulled out his two shortswords. Gaius pulled out a greatsword and Sky and Arden pulled out sharpened throwing knives. Vanessë held two daggers at ready as well.

From the shadows approached something that seemed as though it came directly from a nightmare. With two arms out in front of him, and a blank, eyeless expression, a decomposing carcass came lumbering out from the cave, the flesh on it turned a sickly brown, and the lips rotted away to reveal the few teeth that remained on this abomination. One of the northerners let off an arrow at the sight of the corpse, an arrow that slammed directly through its chest. The corpse only continued to limp forward, making an unworldly hiss as it approached, hungering for flesh.

Emerith suddenly loosed an arrow, aiming directly for the thing's eye, she rarely misses.

The arrow flew directly through the empty eye socket of the corpse. Dried blood slowly ran down its green-and-brown flesh, though it seemed as though it was entirely unaffected. The corpse continued to lumber forth as the group backed up away from it.

Kyrian flies foward at incredible speed, those close to him personally realized that he is using a bit of his demonic power, but his hood covers up any evidence of that. He drags his sword through the stomach of the beast as he flies past, hoping to cut it in half, then he whips around and charges back to the group.

The corpse was severed directly in half, the torso landing near the foot of the paladin. It jerked around still, trying to crawl forward as it brought its hand, dotted with filthy, overgrown nails, to the paladin's leg. Alas, all that could be heard was the irritating scratching of the nails on plate. The paladin looked at the undead, raising his hammer and then bringing it down with a terrible might, crushing the head entirely. Finally, the corpse ceased in its movements.
"The undead cannot be affected by the steel of the ordinary smith," said the paladin. "Only by fire or weaponry blessed by the Gods. Use your torches."