About eighty feet or so to the south, Erik and Zyra are watching on, waiting for an opportune moment to begin any sort of long-range offense, but with the undead alert and on the defensive, it's hard to make a call.

“I think I have an idea; a simple one, but it should hopefully help.” Erik suddenly speaks as he takes an arrow from his quiver. He presents it to the pyromancer. “Light the tip of this on fire.”

Not knowing what the noble is going for, Zyra complies anyway. She holds out her right hand, extending her thumb and index finger in the usual 'combustion' gesture. It takes a brief moment of concentrating for her to focus her mind.

“Combustra!” She declares her incantation with gusto, and a controlled flame smaller than usual spews forth, lighting the tip of the arrow aflame.

Erik wastes no time nocking the arrow into his bowstring, and taking aim. Unfortunately, the combination of both the mist slightly obscuring his view and the undead creature constantly dancing back and forth makes for a tricky shot. Worst case, one of the archer's teammates might wander into the line of fire.

“I just need one of them to get the son of a bitch to stand still for just one second.” Erik utters in increasing frustration.

Atticus, facing south, notices a small orb of orange light at Erik's position, and realizes the archer's intent on firing.

“I'll bait out a swing.” The knight says to Veros, who is still turtling behind his shield, hesitant to move in.

“Be careful.” Veros replies, without taking his eyes off the agitated monster.

“Over here!” Atticus yells at the giant while stepping forward, feinting an offensive maneuver, drawing the undead knight's attention to him, and forcing it to expose its back southward. The engorged armored corpse shrieks intimidatingly and retaliates with strong combative intent. Opting for more than just a swing, it lunges its body forward and thrusts its halberd with obscene strength, treating it like an extension of its own body. The spiked end of the weapon rushes at Atticus's chest, but as before, he quickly redirects momentum with his shield. However, the unanticipated force effectively knocks him off his feet, and onto his back. Now in a vulnerable position, the beast doesn't hesitate to continue its offense. It begins to lift its halberd, ready to bring the heavy axe blade of it down to finish off its prey.

“Damn!” Veros exclaims as he rushes to Atticus's aid, but he only has a miniscule window of time to react, which is barely enough to get between the knight and the undead, shield up to take a brunt of the force. However, considering how strong the giant corpse is, it's a suicidal gesture, shield or not.

Erik, finally given the momentary clear shot he hoped for, finally looses his arrow. It cuts through the air at amazing speed, and lodges itself into the back of the undead's left leg, behind the knee. The necrotic brute stumbles over before it can bring its axe down, letting out a loud groan as it falls into a kneeling position.

“Kellar, go for its right leg!” Veros shouts a command.

The rogue, who had been erring on the side of extreme caution during the encounter thus far, complies instinctively, and rushes at the wounded monster as it tries to stand by shifting its weight to its right leg. Holding his dagger in a reverse grip with his offhand supporting the pommel, Kellar quickly runs in, makes one incredibly forceful slice at the back of the undead's right knee, and backs off again.

Desperate and unable to stand, the wailing, struggling, hulking corpse takes its halberd and makes one more wide swing in a despairing attempt to take one of the Mistwalkers down with it. It misses, and as the arc of the swing comes to an end, Royd steps in from its blind spot, with his axe already above his head, and chops at the shaft of the halberd, cutting it in half. Now disarmed as well, the undead's options have essentially run out. Unable to bring itself to its feet, it falls forward, catching itself with its hands, putting itself on all fours. Veros closes in and thrusts his straightsword into the exposed area at the base of its neck, and pulls it back out in one swift motion. The giant cadaver screeches grotesquely at a deafening volume as it covers the gaping wound. Atticus, now back on his feet, silences the repulsive being with a single verticle swing of his sharp sword at its neck, severing its head from its shoulders. Its slumps over and hits the ground with a thud. The battle is won.

The four Mistwalkers who fought up close are standing in silence, quietly gathering their bearings. They're exhausted despite the fight lasting only a couple minutes, but considering the danger any of them would have been in if anything had gone wrong, they were all rather tense. The undead beast's power and speed were nothing to scoff at. The black knight, specifically, was brushing his fingers against the door to the afterlife after being knocked off his feet, something he silently considers as he stares at the motionless mass of decaying flesh before him. If the monster didn't have a weak point to exploit, the fight would still be going on, and who knows how it would play out.

Stolen story; please report.

“Is it dead?” Kellar is the first to break the silence.

“Its head is off, so I imagine so.” Royd answers, but he's not much more confident. As far as he knows, the strange magic of the mist can still bring it back somehow. At the moment, however, it's just limp and unmoving.

Erik and Zyra, still mounted, approach to rejoin the fighters, along with the other horses. The archer quietly revels in his good aim as the glances at the arrow still stuck in the giant corpse's leg. The pyromancer still can't help but twist her face in disgust at the engorged cadaver that looks nearly inhuman in its swollen form.

“It really is a monastery knight.” Veros says, now able to get up close to the creature for close examination. “There's no mistaking this armor.”

“Guess it was part of the travel party with those monks we found.” Kellar adds.

“Possibly.”

“So what part of this bastard do we cut off to take with us?” Royd suddenly suggests.

“What are you talkin' about?” Kellar replies.

“The unique conquests bonus we get back at the barrier gates.” The burly woodcutter recalls. “Remember? We just need to bring back proof of this creature's size.”

“But we're not goin' back to the gates. We're continuin' north. Are you suggestin' we drag an undead monster's severed limb with us all the way to Armasstadt?”

“Not at all.” Royd shakes his head. “We'll just leave the trophy at Rosemont, and pick it back up when we return.”

“If we return.” Kellar bluntly corrects his teammate. “But I guess we could. We're already halfway to Rosemont anyway. What do you think, cap'n?” He refers to Veros in a tongue-in-cheek manner.

“Well, as long as we're actually allowed to store the trophy at Rosemont, I don't see why not.” The team leader responds with a small shrug. “The question is: what body part do we take?”

All six of the Mistwalkers reflexively stare at the still, rotting lump of muscle, investigating it with their leers for which section would best tell of its size.

“Its head seems out of the question.” Atticus chimes in while pointing at the severed cranium, which still dons its helmet. “It doesn't seem to have grown in size like the rest of its body.” Indeed, the head doesn't look as veiny and bloated as the torso and limbs. Thus, it would be a very bad indicator of largeness.

“How about a hand?” Erik offers a suggestion. “They seem to have become as enlarged as its feet did, but its more dignified than actually carrying a severed foot around.”

“That's probably the best option.” Veros nods in agreement.

“Wait a second.” Kellar interrupts. “What if someone else comes along and takes a hand for themselves, claiming they killed it? Or maybe even drag the whole body back?”

“Do gate headquarters actually offer the rewards on a first-come, first-served basis like that?”

“I'm not sure.” The bald man shakes his head. “That's why I'm wonderin' if it's a good idea to take just a hand. They might keep a record of who killed what, so if someone else finds the rest of this mean son of a bitch and drags him back to the gate before we bring back just a hand, it might screw us out of the bonus.”

“Hmm...” Veros hesitates now that the idea of potential false claims comes to light. As someone who considers himself honest and expects honesty in return, a greedy passer-by taking credit for the kill and subquently preventing the team from procuring their rightful reward rubs him the wrong way. “So what should we do? We can't really hide the body off the road, since we're still in open farmland. Burying it would also waste too much time.”

“Actually...” Royd suddenly speaks up while digging into one of his saddlebags. “I brought about thirty feet of rope.” He brings out a coil of rope, made from natural fibers.

“The hell you have rope for?” Kellar asks, dumbfounded.

“I figured it might come in handy in the case we had to haul something, and here we are, thinking about hauling something.” Royd gives a simple, but believable explanation. “The braiding isn't very thick, but the fibers are very strong. We'll tie this big lug to two of the horses, and we'll drag him to Rosemont.”

“Well, I guess that's what we'll do, then.” With no real reason to deny the idea, Veros accepts it. “Whose horses will we use?”

“The rogue's and mine will be fine.” The brawny fighter answers immediately, volunteering Kellar's horse without his permission.

“Hey!” The rogue scolds. “Don't just bring me into it without tellin' me.”

“It's just dragging a carcass for several hours.” Royd snarkily dismisses his companion's complaints as he dismounts. “Now come help me tie up the smelly creature.”

“Ugh.” Kellar complies despite clear disdain on his face.

As the two begin to fashion the rope around the body in a manner fit for hauling, Atticus retrieves a spare sack tucked into one of his saddlebags, and walks up to the monstrosity's severed head. He kneels down and carefully fits the sack over it, until it's completely concealed, and then turns the sack over to carry it. He sees Veros bend over to pick up the halberd with a broken shaft.

“You're taking that, too?” The knight asks.

“Yes.” Veros answers. “The monastery might want it back. I've heard these are quite expensive to smith. You're taking the head?”

“Yes.” Atticus glances at the sack. “I figure the bonus might be larger if we bring the complete package.”

“Fair enough.” Veros nods lightly with a satisfied half-smile. The knight is a bit surprised to see such an expression, as the de facto captain has maintained a rather no-nonsense demeanor since the beginning of the journey.

After some minutes of preparation, Royd and Kellar finish tying the dead brute to their horses' saddles, and the team continues northward.