Setting
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The inseparable pair were still perched upon the rubble, Tudyk with a metal ball in one fist and his sling staff in the other and Faerghas ready to leap at a moment's notice.
They both noticed shortly after the rest of the group did, that an imposing figure stood amidst the regrouping enemies; they noticed that the air's chill increased and a horrible presence seemed to emanate from the Revnant that now showed itself.
Tudyk's rusty eyes scanned the field for straggling undead but it seemed a line had been drawn in the proverbial sand and now there was a standoff. Tudyk dismounted Faerghas, thrusting the sling bullet back into it's pouch, and began climbing a nearby post to gain a vantage similar to what he had. The halfling was preparing.
It was not but a moment after Tudyk reached his perch than did the silence, save for a subtle hum of unholy power, come to an unbearable peak.
Something had to give.
As if aligned under a single mind, all at once the remaining dead raised their weapons into the air and made a great clatter. Cold, glowing orbs for eyes alit in blue flame and a corona of unholy energy exploded from the Revnant, washing over the ghouls, skeletons and zombies like a refreshing spring rain but caused all living material within to recoil in horror and pain. Plants previously risen by Tudyk withered in the unholy cold and the undead surged forward with the Revnant leading a spearhead, as a seemingly infallible scion of powerful and ancient evil, against the band of the Brotherhood.
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