Drizzle threatened to break into rain beneath the encouragement of churning clouds above, their wispy fingers resembling talons. Lightning recklessly veined its way through the dark accumulate. A storm wasn't simply brewing above; it raged below, as well.
They hadn't been (un)dead long. The forest's petrichor couldn't drown out their fetid stench. Judging from the pustules dotting their skin, Hrist estimated a week or two at most. Still, undead were undead: sacrilegious regardless of tenure. One clawed at her skirts, grounded, successful for a mere second before his head was lopped clean off by a hungry axhead.
"How dare you, wretch!" She roared as she bisected his torso for good measure--punishment for even daring to touch her with their taint. "Begone with thee!"
While the heaps of the prior vanquished were dissipating, she whirled like a dervish to allow another ring of revenants the pleasure of tasting her blade. A presence immediately caught her attention. It was a beacon in comparison to the unclean hordes steeping the area. Her eyes scrutinized him with a scalpel's precision.
"You there, swordsman!" The Valkyrie was too heated from bloodlust and her mission to mince words. "Know you the raiser of these damned fiends?" Her gauntleted hands gripped the halberd tighter, currently favoring its use over the sword at her hip. Though she didn't sense the taint of a necromancer staining his aura or catch the scent of Ghoul Powder from him, appearances could deceive. "Or be you him?"