As if in response to the barbarian's demand, the resurrected all turned and began to stumble toward the Cathedral. They groaned and their bones gnashed together, nothing but the magic of reanimation propelling them forward.

Oriana narrowed her eyes at their sudden lurch forward. "I guess he's going to lead us straight to him." She would wait until the entirety of the army would pass them before turning toward Arkas. For the time being, at least, she did not feel any ill-will toward him, and the usual vitriol between demon hunter and barbarian had been silenced. Now, he was an ally, someone whose back she would watch if it meant her own life. Allegiance was blind in the face of pure evil.

"The question is," she said, her eyes caged on the rotted doors of the church. "Is he friend or foe?"

"Depends." The barbarian grunted and signaled for the hunter to follow him, keeping an eye on the last unholy creature to enter the foreboding church doors. "We haven't walked up here just to come back because a few skeletons gave us the spooks." Arkas replied, keeping his sword out as he opened the door and ushered the hunter to go first.

"You've got the eyes, I've got the sword." The barbarian grunted. Going first meant she could pinpoint any traps that would lie for them inside the church itself or maybe the master of the passive undead creatures that had proceeded them. Not to mention she was probably deft enough to dodge the aforementioned traps.

Not that Arkas couldn't... Damn crossbow wielding wench thought she was better than him, he'd prove her wrong when he killed the necromancer solo.

To imply that Oriana had only eyes, no gusto or how-to, and that Arkas would do all of the hard work meant that this barbarian truly lived up to his stereotype - stupid and uncultured. Bless his soul, she thought, but said nothing, a grin spreading wide over her lips as she quickly brushed past him to enter the Cathedral first.

The crunch of grime and bones and debris beneath her stiletto boots was satisfying, and for now, it was the only sound reverberating in the grand entryway. She kept both crossbows poised, her eye catching the last of the undead army drifting into a corridor. "This way," she said, picking up her pace in order to catch up.

The tell-tale feeling in her gut rose up, and she tightened her grip on the handles of the crossbows. Beneath thick leather gloves, her knuckles turned white, and the glow of her Nephalem eyes intensified. In her haste to find the necromancer (and her anxiety of having entered the Cathedral again), she was caught off guard by the chittering of a bat and sent a volley of arrows into a darkened corner. When the rest of the colony of bats came flying out, seeking refuge from the seemingly crazed demon hunter, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back, crossbows lowered, in obvious disappointment.

"I'm sorry," she grumbled, now even more frustrated that she'd found it necessary to apologize to Arkas. She only begged that he wouldn't ask for an explanation as to why she lacked such cool resolve, and why she seemed to be biting her nails with uneasiness. "Let's just move on," she suggested. But she hardly waited for his response, quickly - almost at a run - moving ahead.

He had arrived in Tristram without as much as a glance from the villagers. As silent as pestilent death, he had made his way in to the Cathedral, his tattered robe fluttering like a crimson shadow in his wake and the shambling of rising bones sounding like a sweet symphony to those who could truly appreciate such power.

The smell of fresh dirt mingled with rotting corpses and the old stones of the Cathedral but it did not bother the looming figure who called to the dead that marched in to the old building. Rather it reminded him of where he truly belonged, below the dirt rather than walking on top of it but Zander could never return to that cold embrace he so longed for.

The arrival of the barbarian and the hunter was signaled by the rising of the Necromancer’s minions outside of the Cathedral. Zander could not hear them, even the barbarian’s howling threats but there was no mistaking the smell of living flesh. One of them had attacked one of the minions but that was hardly a problem when compared to the looming threat that awaited them all in the Catacombs. Besides, in the world of Sanctuary where angels and demons battled for the souls of Man, there was always more dead to be had.

A deep, guttural growl echoed from the shadows behind Zander when the hunter loosed her bolt within the Cathedral. Zander did not hold out a hand or even speak a command to hold the hound at bay for it was compelled by a greater power. Instead, Zander continued to wait near the entrance of the Catacombs for Cain’s heroes to arrive.

Arkas kept his chuckle low when she skewered a bat. He tried not to imagine the corrupted bats he'd heard tales about in the tavern, it wouldn't do to run into those. The barbarian hefted his claymore onto his shoulders and stomped after her hasty holiness, keeping an eye in the shadows for more bats.

When they came across the catacomb entrance and the necromancer and his foul dog, Arkas could only take a step back and scoff. It looks like luck was running high today, they weren't going solo after all. "Hello." The Barbarian croaked, wary. If this turned into a fight, he'd be ready.

There was plenty of scolding to go around, and just when she'd mustered the courage to spit something scathing in the barbarian's face (for his chuckle had not gone without her acknowledgment and utter chagrin), Arkas stopped short. Oriana came to her tiptoes in an attempt to see over his hulking form, but grew impatient and came to stand at his side.

There was something ... off about this man (if such a term could be used). She'd seen her fair share of hell hounds, of mysterious beings with hooded faces and foreign robes; she'd often been guilty of fitting such a description herself, as often the art of demon hunting required her to be both mysterious and foreign. She knew instinctively that what stood before them was neither alive nor dead, but could not be sure it was what held the skeletal army's allegiance. It was this uncertainty that caused her to grip her crossbows tightly again, and to give Arkas a nudge with her shoulder. When he looked at her, her eyes now tinged with a red glow beneath her heavy leather hood, she tried her best to shoot him a look that said, I'm not sure this is our guy, and most importantly, We should be careful.

She wondered immediately if barbarians were even capable of interpreting facial expressions as saying more than "To battle!" or "Where's the beer?"

When the barbarian and the hunter arrived, Zander stepped forward as did the hound. When it stepped out of the shadows, the dim candlelight unveiled the beast for what it was. Rather than some demonic hound from the depths of Hell, it appeared to be an ordinary hunting dog. It was filthy and caked in dirt but even beneath that its yellow-gold fur could be seen plainly enough.

“Welcome, Cain’s heroes,” the stranger greeted them from beneath his crimson hood, his face still unseen. His voice was guttural, bubbling even like the last gasp of a drowning man whose lungs would only ever know water again. “My name is Zander. I have been waiting for you. I hope my comrades did not give you cause for worry.”

By now, the shambling skeletons and walking dead lined the walls of the small room, causing their shadows to dance eerily in the flickering candlelight. The dog stepped out from behind Zander and went about sniffing the ground between the three of them. At first there would seem nothing strange about that but though the dog’s nose moved, there was no sound other than its paws shuffling against the cold, stone floor.

In better light, the dog appeared wounded and most of the dirt that covered its fur was actually dried blood. One of its eyes was permanently open, missing its lid and the obviously undead dog was also missing half of an ear. It made no noise as it sniffed because it drew no breath but much like human corpses raised from the grave, it was simply going through the motions.

Arkas would've growled, but the stink of all these undead would crawl in his throat and make him hurl. The barbarian couldn't even sniff, at least the mountain's constant fresh air had blown away the smell of death, here it had time to stew and congeal into a righteous stink and it made his flesh crawl.

"Are you here to help, Zander?" Arkas spat, tapping the side of his leg in impatience. The adrenaline was flowing and as a warrior, he hated when it went to waste.

The answer to Arkas' question would have to go unanswered for some time longer. At that moment, there came a loud clanging and a thunderous boom. The earth began to shake, and the Cathedral doors came slamming together. From the crevices there shone an intense green light, whose disappearance left a strange run burning on the door.

It was undoubtedly sealed, and there was nothing the three adventurers could summon that would open it. The seal would have to be broken elsewhere.

Already on edge, Oriana nearly jumped out of her skin at the din around them. She glared defiantly into the light, recognizing it as some trickery or arcane device. It was quite obvious now that their meeting was not by coincidence, and as the rune stared back at them all, the demon hunter whirled on Zander. There was no evidence that he'd done this, and though her gut told her that he hadn't, she knew the Cathedral had a way of twisting even the most sound of minds.

Oriana tried to relax. She needed to, if she were going to come through this alive or remotely sane. It wasn't that she was afraid; on the contrary, sending a volley of bolts into some hellspawn's skull would certainly take the edge off. It was that she knew now that there were eyes upon them that none of them could see, that every step they took would be anticipated. The element of surprise was a demon hunter's cup of tea, and without it, she was at an extreme disadvantage.

"Someone else has been expecting us, it seems," she said coldly, her eyes caged on Zander. "I suppose it was someone's plan to have us descend into the lower levels of the Cathedral. The door topside has been sealed, and I'm quite confident of my ineptitude in arcane magics."