The gentle shaking of my shoulder brings me into consciousness.

"Gareth is outside getting the details of the location, Master." says Subia.

"Good."

I stir slowly into the waking world. The twins talk among themselves until Gareth walks back into the room. A fresh smile on his face, his brown hair tousled from the wind.

"Morning all. Breakfast is ready."

"Morning." we reply one by one starting with me.

We follow Gareth to the main room of the outpost. A small space with a desk, bulletin board and a few tables and benches. On the walls are sets of standards equipment: various iron swords, spears and other weapons. There is also a chest filled with various cheap clothes.

Sitting down on the bench we tuck into the hot stew made up of rabbit meat with a spud. A common dish of the region as it is cheap and filling.

"It is a crypt we are venturing into. Usually empty. It was cleared a long time ago." Says Gareth between bites.

"How far?" I ask.

"Not far. Two miles down the way to Athfen but turn off at the hill path."

“How much pay?" I ask.

"Ten silver for the report. A silver for any stray undead upon proof. And a gold if we find the dragon. Ten gold each if we resolve the issue peacefully. Eternal glory if we kill it."

"Kill it?" murmurs Lovia.

"No one is expecting us to find it, let alone kill one. It would take a small army just to get it to wake up." answers Gareth.

"No one has killed a dragon in a long while, too much trouble and loss." I explain. "We leave after everyone is done and ready to go".

The place is nearby, all it takes is a short walk and the way downhill which is a lot easier than the climb up.

The grass sways with the high winds and the twins clutch their thin clothes with each cool breeze. Long campaigns had hardened my body to the chill. I note mentally to add warmer clothes as another expense to the list. Wool would be a luxury but better than linen tunics and breeches.

More recent tombstones had been erected for fallen who had died in the area. Some dating two hundred years ago. The most recent to last week.

As we venture further in, I notice small pink flowers growing among the grass on the mounds of the dead. Here lay the followers of the ancient mountain king.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

We walk down into the large stone crypt. I summon a Minoth Bullmastiff and send it down the passage to scout ahead.

Gareth steps inside, I trail behind as we enter into the dark gloom of the unlit passage.

I can see, just as well with my demonic night vision. The rest of the party with augmented senses can navigate just well without light. Regardless, Lovia carries a torch to allow better visibility.

The crypt is a spectacle in itself. There were dragon statues on each tomb. They were small only about a foot tall and wide. Every scale had been intricately carved suggesting they had some master stone carvers in their culture.

Why only the tombs remained of the people is an old mystery with no real clues left behind. Swirling symbols have been cut into the walls of smooth stone. The language is long forgotten.

We do not make it far inside before the dog barks, signalling strangers ahead. "Dead flesh." Gareth mutters. Soon after the rancid smell of decaying flesh hit my nose. I call the dog back. "Undead, I think." I say to the group.

"That smell, gotta be." replies Gareth. "Our luck, huh."

The groaning of the undead follows Gareth’s statements. He takes a few steps forwards and I gesture to the twins to take a few steps back.

It is a wide enough passage with space for three people wide going in a straight line ahead from which a lone undead appears shuffling around a corner.

"Attack!" I call to the dog.

The otherwordly hound charges forward running past Gareth. My friend draws his sword holding it with two hands on his side. He puts his left foot forward in a ready stance to charge and strike at a moment’s notice.

The summoned dog leaps at the undead’s throat but the undead grabs the dog by the scruff in one hand. Using its other hand it pierces the belly of the summons with sharp nails. The Undead's bony fingers dig inches deep into the magicked flesh of the dog.

The summon dog screams in pain. The undead reacts, biting off the dog's tongue and then dropping the creature. The summon dissipates with a swirl of blue mist.

The undead starts shuffling slowly toward the group.

It has dark grey decaying flesh, and one moving eye. On the other side, a part of its skull can be seen with the eye gone. It wears a dress with a high neckline, the fabric is little more than rags now but reaches to its ankles.

"Hold" I call out. "This one is mine."

I take a moment and concentrate on forming a ball of mana. A novice class mana arrow over five seconds. The zombie keeps shuffling forward but is still far out of reach of even Gareth.

I let the mana arrow loose. It launches at a greater speed than the mana bolt and hits the undead in the head puncturing right through the centre of its skull.

It drops to the ground, its undead existence ended.

"Is it dead?" asks Lovia.

"Yes, it is." I answer.

"Should be the last if the Outpost Master spoke true." Says Gareth.

"That smell. It stays." Says Subia.

"The crypt should be empty, once a year and we just happen to stumble across it? Unlikely. Keep at the ready. Something dark and dangerous is at work here." I say.

"Yes, Master." the twins reply.

"I agree." answers back Gareth.

The crypt itself is a small space we quickly cover the size of a large house. I continue to examine the walls to see if there are any puzzles or signs of secret doors but to no avail.

"It seems empty." Says Gareth. He looks a touch impatient with his arms folded. Before I can reply Subia calls out…

"There is spilled wax over here."

"Strange." Replies Gareth as I walk over to her.

"The stone walls look to have been recently added." I call out as I examine the wall in question.

"Why would someone add a wall to an ancient crypt?" asks Subia.

"Let’s find out." I reply and pull on the torch holder which lowers with the tug. The stone wall slides down and the lights from torches inside illuminate an open passage.