Shrew drew her daggers. The last time she had entered these crypts, she had seen the dead rise up from their place of rest. She turned away from the wisp lamps and looked into the darkness with her deep-sight. This was an ancient tunnel, peppered with holes and niches. Bones filled every opening and dust covered the floor.
Cyrus Col smiled, revealing his stained tongue and pointed teeth. “Call upon? No, no, you’re missing the point. I don’t call upon. I command!”
The priest moved towards a nearby alcove. “Watch!” he cried. A staccato of high-pitched sounds erupted from the priest’s mouth. Something moved in the alcove. Again, the priest sent out a series of strange sounds, but this time he gestured to something to come forth.
Cold fear crept up Vaskah Shen’s spine. From out of the shadows a mass of soiled rags and bone slowly emerged. As the thing rose, the rags became a long-hooded robe, and within the hood the nasal passage and grinning teeth of a skull slowly protruded.