Post originally by Character_Ravinger Ebonstar

Though the path went on, the horses would go no further. It was as if they knew what lurked ahead.

"Shall we proceed on foot?"

There seemed to be no other option for the duo who stood at the rusted gates of a long forgotten cemetary. The question came from the younger of the two; his blue eyes as bright as his spirit despite the morose surroundings. It was his first time 'out in the field' so to speak and his vigor was clearly evident in his persistant tone.

"Sir Ravinger?" he asked after his mentor failed to answer him.

"We've no other choice," the golden-haired paladin finally replied while easing himself off the horse's back. The squire followed suit and began to gather things from the various packs and satchels his horse bore. Ravinger, on the other hand, had done this many times before. While his protege was still gathering effects, he was pulling the shining blade sheathed on the horse's saddle free and inspecting it.

"Quickly now, Risse," urged Ravinger as he slid the longsword into its scabbard at his left side.

Risse quicked his pace and soon made his way to his master's side. The dark haired youth looked up at the slightly taller Ravinger before turning his gaze towards the darkness of the graveyard ahead. He opened his mouth to speak but Ravinger had already begun striding towards the rusted gates.

"I'm surprised this has held," said the paladin as he settled a plated hand upon the brittle chain holding the gate shut. "Unless the reports were exhaggerated."

Maybe they'd be lucky.

"Allow me, master." Risse said as he stepped forward with his sword drawn. Ravinger stepped aside, arms rising to cross over his chest as he prepared his ears for the clash of the steel blade against the chain. Soon, it lay sliced in twain upon the dusty ground and the gate creaked open eerily.

"At the ready," Ravinger warned his student as he pushed the gate open. Risse was sheathing his blade but quickly reconsidered at his master's word. He fell in line behind Ravinger as they traveled onward into the enveloping darkness.

Though he couldn't see much beyond the path they walked upon, Ravinger was steadfast in his stride. His pointed, elven ears were perked and listening intently for any movement beside their own while Risse walked backwards behind him, blade at the ready, expecting to be flanked.

"Risse," Ravinger said without breaking his stride. He knew his student was listening intently, thus he didn't bother turning around. "I need light."

Risse stopped for a moment and slung his pack off his shoulder and onto the ground where he crouched to open it. Ravinger, who didn't want to be held up, sighed and turned around to face the digging squire. Just as he was about to reprimand the boy, he produced a torch and looked up with a slight smile. The paladin simply nodded.

As Risse stood back up with his pack slung over his shoulder, Ravinger's acute sense of hearing caught a shuffling just out of sight. His left hand lowered to rest upon the pommel of his blade, steadying it. His green eyes squinted in an attempt to focus on the shadows beyond to no avail.

"Risse," he said again, this time with urgency in his voice. "Quickly."

The squire fumbled with the torch for a moment, having held it upside down. His hand waved over the end and it ignited in blue flame, casting a bright light around them and shocking their pupils into quickly contracting. At the same time, a low moan emanated from behind a mausoleum.

"The walking dead," muttered the paladin as he scowled in the direction of the sound. Sure enough, a severely decomposed corpse shuffled into view, its one arm lifting to hold itself up against the stone wall. Its hungry eyes settled on the pair, but its legs weren't as powerful as its appetite. As it began to sluggishly make its way towards the elves, Ravinger drew his blade and took a step to place himself in front of Risse.

"As you can see, they are lame and extremely unintelligent," he said back to his protege while tightening his grip on his weapon. "Little to wory about, even in small groups."

The creature drew ever closer, though Ravinger stood firmly in its path.

"Don't let their sluggish nature fool you, however," he added moments before the creature lunged out quickly, one arm flailing. Ravinger's blade sang, rending the limb from the rotten body as it lashed out. "They're quick to strike when they're in range."

The creature stumbled back, briefly daunted by the removal of its remaining arm. It quickly came back for more though, and Ravinger was quick to lay it to rest this time by deftly slicing its head from its body. It collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap and what blood it had left began to pool on the ground beneath it. Risse, who had previously been quite tense, lowered his sword but Ravinger raised his free hand and pointed behind the squire.

"Also, where there's one . . . there's more," he said calmly.

When Risse turned around he would see a small group of undead shambling towards him. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his weapon and he raised the torch high into the air. Ravinger joined him at his side and looked over to offer a quick warning while unslinging his shield from his back and gripping it tightly in his left hand.:

"Whatever you do, don't get bit."