We arrived in Warren’s forest by nightfall. We could tell we had crossed the border when we spotted the tacky signs with skulls and crossbones. 'Entrewdars beewhere oar dye!' was on one of them, I had to pause a moment to deal with the psychic damage I had taken from the misspellings. 'Stay away or get shanked!!!' was one that I actually appreciated. I debated for a moment then climbed up to steal the wooden placard.

“Nice place.” Bozo commented sarcastically.

“A very nice place.” Ursula agreed with a wistful tone, oblivious to the sarcasm. The trees were tall, with dark wood and leaves even darker stirred without a breeze. “Reminds me of home.”

“Reminds me of visiting my in-laws” I grumbled. The ground was as bare as a bald man’s head. Cracked earth that forced us to watch our step lest we snap an ankle. I did it twice and it was a pain to re-attach the appendage and then wait for my wight magic to reknit the torn muscles and ligaments. Buggy trundled beside me, effortlessly avoiding the various pitfalls. She had arrived within the hour of us leaving the boundaries of the human settlements. She was elated to have a new place to explore and would scurry off to chase down whatever new creature emerged to investigate our group. “Any idea how much further Warren’s place is? We have been climbing up and down these never ending rolling hills and I think I am ready to be done with our beautiful panoramic adventure.”

Ursula pulled a skull from her long sleeve and threw it into the air. It spun like a top and flashed with a pale light before falling back into her outstretched hand. She studied the new symbols that scrawled across the surface before responding. “Should be right over the next hill.”

As she pointed a swarm of silently creeping Warrens descended from the trees like spiders.

They were upon us before anybody could react in any helpful manner.

Bozo was able to get out a "Holy mother of-" before an undead rooster made a challenging screech of fury and launched at the closest Warren.

"Get with it!" I shouted at the group. My fury was more directed at myself than any of them.

I had made a mistake.

A stupid one.

"Stupid!" I snarled at myself. I knew Warren was an amateur. I was lazy and overconfident in my approach to the fight with him. As the daggers emerged and hissed through the air I stepped in close to one of them, grabbed him around the waist and turned like I was trying to spin my partner round and round at a barn dance. He tried to break free but was stabbed by all his buddies and went limp. I continued to use him as a makeshift club, bashing the beaked buffoons back. Bonked a few that had turned their attention towards Bozo. "Hey, moron don't die on me!"

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"Mind your own fight!" He shouted back. Bozo was backed up against a tree using a Warren as his shield while he beheaded any of the undead feathered freaks that drew to close. I was pleasantly surprised by his skill...

Well his reduced amount of flailing.

Not that his success was really impressive. First he had his undead chickens that had decided the feathered puppets covered in gothic gear flesh were tasty. Second then there was an even bigger contributor. One that I quickly spotted once I was able to get a good handle on the situation.

The Warrens were not the most coordinated at the moment. One had the tip of his beak pressed against the trunk of a tree and was slashing the bark with a vengeance. Another was running in a tight circle around a bush, he was shouting out "And I say now!" on an endless loop. A few others were all shouting the exact same words. Insults about my mother being a hamster. Buggy grabbed a Warren and popped the entire undead creature (daggers and all) into her maw. She swallowed, clicked her mandibles together and grabbed another one that was on his back wriggling across the ground like a worm. She gulped this one down as well.

The Plain One was decimating the necromantic puppets. She was doing this graceful circling movements with her longsword. Any normal man would have been hard pressed to maneuver the blade at all. Ursula's feet were planted like roots on a tree, when she did move it was a small one that gave more power to a slash.

I clobbered the last Warren of my group and in a slow methodical fashion moved them into a stacked heap so I could have a view of the murder machine named Ursula, while I sat and checked my straw hat for any loose strands.

When Buggy started to edge towards my pile I fixed her with a glare "Don't even think about it, Missy!"

My glare would have been more frightening if a random crow hadn't dove from a nearby tree and attempted to steal one of my overall buckles. I spent the next several seconds beating the stupid thing away. Buggy took the opportunity to devour half of my makeshift throne and I had to do some fancy footwork to avoid being buried beneath the corpses.

I didn't see the Wight until she opened her hand and a spectral claw latched onto my chest and yanked.

---

Laslilus watched me leave. I could feel her eyes on my back as I stepped over the encroaching graves and hopped down from a crypt that had started to rise up from the ground. It would be another fortnight before the thing was fully above the surface. These things had been emerging from the earth for several weeks. The ground turning to a sickly blue green, plants withering away. It would all be over soon though. Plant the spear in the Lich's chest. Destroy the necromantic magic and watch all these graves turn to dust, or glitter or whatever magical spiffy thing would happen once the big bad guy was dead.

My steps had the usual stutter to them, step then scrape and drag the other foot. It was a familiar sound that helped me remain focused. Kept me centered. It would have been amazing to have some type of all powerful magic to help me teleport to the Lich's citadel. Or let me summon a dark furred steed that would devour the hordes of non-living as I charged to the undead leader. Alas, those were relegated to great heroes and champions. Me, I was (and ever would be) a foot soldier that sometimes had good ideas and on occasion listened to others' advice.

I stepped around a small crypt when a feathered creature in a trench coat leapt at me with daggers in his hands.