Runeblade

A scratched root here, disturbed undergrowth there, even the odd far-off grunt revealed the presence of beasts living amongst the trees.

Kaius was determined to make it to the ruined structure he had seen. He couldn\'t risk attracting the attention of whatever denizens lived in the grove without having a defensible location to fight from.

He was confident in his skills. Just last week he had managed to clear a nest of boggarts. Without his father stepping in. High-level depths-born were something else entirely. He\'d seen a delver once, muttering into his cup at the Stout Oak about a run gone bad. How they pursued intruders with dogged single-mindedness, free of fear.

The undead would hopefully be a different story. At lower levels, they could be among the most dangerous. Wights that inflicted fatal contagion with but a touch. Incorporeal spirits immune to all wounds, yet still able to tear out your throat. Higher up, where he was, they were little more than empowered corpses, hamstrung by the slowing touch of the grave.

With a little care and dexterity, he should be safe from their clumsy strength.

He should be getting close to the church he had spied from above. Though it had only looked like a half-hour walk, the terrain had slowed him. He was eager to see what else he could find, the opening in the trees had been far too big for the single building he had seen poking over the canopy.

The forest opened up, revealing a battered church that stood proud in a sea of gravestones. A low stone wall guarding the perimeter.

While it might have once been grandiose, age had not been kind to it. Shattered tiles covered the roof, barely protecting it from the elements. Thin stone openings dotted its cracked walls. Glass long since shattered, only the rotten remnants of shutters remained to sway in the strange breeze that flowed through the cavern.

Buildings were common enough in the Depths. Apparently, as you got deeper it was possible to find entire ruined fortresses, even cities. Rich in artefacts, forgotten language, and lost culture, it was almost impossible to believe that they were all creations of the dungeon.

Did the Depths create it all whole cloth, the creation of some dreaming intelligence? Or was it simply watching, creating twisted inversions of the world above? Perhaps in some long-forgotten time this church had stood in some rich glade of the Greenseed Dukedoms, only to find itself reflected in the endless Depths long after it had turned to dust?

Kaius moved on quickly from his musings, His eyes moving to the expansive graveyard that circled the church. There was no order to the graves. Flat planes of stone rising abruptly from the earth in a haphazard manner. So different from the orderly rows that lay on the outskirts of frontier villages.

Wait. Was that? It was.

A figure shambled out from behind a headstone, plodding its way through the graves. It paused. Waiting. It turned in place, seemingly scanning the field in front of it. It found nothing, moving off in what seemed to be a random direction.

Kaius narrowed his eyes, scanning the graveyard. More jumped out to him, though to his relief they were few in number.

Five in total and gaunt of frame, the figures shambled around in meaningless circles as they stumbled over hidden debris. They were scattered across the graveyard, each moving as if they were completely unaware of their compatriots. Their patrol was lilting, seemingly without any true vigilance. Like old, half-remembered, orders - a bodily habit followed blindly.

Despite the distance, Kaius could still make out the presence of mouldering leather cuirasses and rusted iron helms, as well as a motley collection of pitted weapons held loosely in unresponsive fists. One stood out above the rest, draped in chainmail and a solid helm, holding a massive club in both hands. That one would be a tough nut to crack.

The way they were spread out amongst the graves, and their seeming total lack of cooperation, could work in his favour. He liked his chances much better if he could force them to face him one at a time. Being undead, they lacked the regenerative vigour of Health. Even if they kept coming until he destroyed the core of their reanimating magics - usually the head- he could whittle them down with crippling blows.

As long as he could stop them from swarming him, that is.

Kaius bent down, rooting around for a stone. "If it worked once.."

He found one, working it loose.

"This should do nicely."

He needed to get closer.

"Now.. where do I want to do this."

He scanned the low wall surrounding the churchyard. There. A bit to his left.

A crumbled opening, littered with loose cobble. Narrow enough that he could use it as a choke point. The undead would fare worse than him on the uneven footing. Every stumble would be something that Sense Weakness could capitalise on. If he could get to the wall without being spotted, that is.

He just hoped the undead wouldn\'t have the sense of mind to haul themselves over the chest-high stone and flank him.

It was still his best bet.

Each step was careful as he stepped over loose earth and stray branches with ease, his passage near silent compared to the soft rustle of leaves shifting in the breeze. Always careful to keep a bush or a tree between himself and his targets. Their disjointed patrol always seemed to leave one watching in his direction. He wasn\'t going to risk discovery before he was ready. No matter how oblivious they seemed.

He stopped behind his final bit of cover. A scraggly little bush that just barely covered the majority of his person.

Peeking out over the top, his eyes focused on the movements of the undead. Each shaky step they made snapped in a stiff legged mockery of a march. Though the way they ignored each other as they strutted around the graves left much to be desired in the way of discipline. Kaius just hoped their lack of cooperation remained when he engaged them.

No matter which way they wandered, there always seemed to be one positioned just right that would see him making a break for the fence line.

Muffling a curse, Kaius suppressed his urge to run into the fray anyway.

"You\'re in the Depths, you fool. Being cocksure is how you end up dead."

Taking a deep breath, he noticed his forearm had started to burn due to his too-tight grip on the stone he had found. Forcing himself to loosen his grip, he settled onto his haunches and began to wait.

"Now!"

The soft earth beneath his foot gave way slightly as system-enhanced strength and coordination moved him from a low crouch to a dead run in a fraction of a second.

He kept himself hunched. Trying to minimise his profile.

He ran as fast as he could to the obscuring safety of the wall. He shifted his tongue, mouth bone dry as he kept his gaze locked on the undead. It had taken what felt like hours for the entire group to coincidentally face away from him. The time dragging as shimmering half-light and drifting shadows tried to drag his attention from his quarry.

He was halfway there.

One of the undead, the tough-looking one carrying a half-splintered club, stopped dead. Its back facing him. The soft noise of the glade around him seemed to quieten, his gaze sharpening. The world seemed to narrow to the dense pulse of blood running through his veins, and the soft jolt of his feet impacting the ground with every frantic step.

He was so close.

It was the furthest one away. If it noticed him it would pull all of them in at once.

The club wielder snapped to attention and continued stumbling forward. Still facing away from him.

Throwing himself into a slide, soft earth muffled the movement. The long shadows of the wall reached out to him. Pulling him into their embrace. Sneak doing its work.

Air rushed out between his tense teeth. Kaius forced himself to relax the aching tension in his jaw.

He came to a rest in the shadow of the wall, the crumbling gap he intended to take advantage of only a few metres to his left.

Shuffling back towards the wall, Kaius held his sword ready. Straining his ears for any hint of approaching movement.

Any indication he had been spotted.

He got his feet under him, bracing his rear foot against the wall so he could bolt and reposition at the slightest sign he had been discovered.

But… nothing.

With a soft sigh of relief, he set down his sword, before unbuckling his pack and resting it gently down against the hard stone barrier.

Picking up his sword with his off-hand he snatched the rock with his dominant. It would let him start the confrontation on his own terms. He rose. Eyes barely peeking over the chest-high wall. Taking in the undead.

The closest one commanded his attention, his first target. Just close enough to be in range of his throwing arm.

Gaunt and withered, it looked like a two-week-old corpse had been left out on a smoking rack. Decrepit, but dry. No leaking sludge or flesh-melting sores. No decay. Mouldering boiled leather clad its figure, while it clenched a pitted shortsword between almost skeletal fingers.

Sense Weakness nudged him. Made his vision drift higher

There, next to a shrivelled ear, was a spot where something had ravaged the creature deep before whatever animating magic had stalled off its effects. The bone of its temple was exposed, sunbleached and almost splintering.

Kaius\'s eyes narrowed. Locked on that point. In a single fluid motion, Kaius rose to his feet, drawing his arm back before hurling his fist-sized rock with practised accuracy.

Breath caught in his throat. Kaius watched the stone hurtle through the air as he palmed his longsword back to his dominant hand.

The stone connected.

Splintered bone caved in. A crack rang out across the graves. The stone embedded deep in its watery grey matter.

Its body crumpled.

**Ding! level 12 Wretched Militiaman slain**

**Ding! Sense Weakness has reached level 16!**

Sense Weakness:

Level 16

Rare

Hearts, lungs, brains, arteries, eyes, mana cores, light, water, acid, or poison. Everything has a weakness. Everything.

Increases awareness of exploitable vulnerabilities in foes.

Each level slightly increases efficacy. Esoteric and magical vulnerabilities, and foes, are more resistant to this insight.

The rhythmic shuffle of the undead stopped. The remaining four, spread out across the graves, turned towards the sound. As one they locked their gazes on him. Blackened orbs burning a hole in his own.

His stomach dropped.

Kaius had to fight to keep his grip suitably relaxed for swordplay. Steeling himself he took a few confident side steps. Holding his place in the opening of the wall, ready to make his stand.

As soon as he moved, whatever spell held the undead enthralled broke. With a jerky lilting gait, they set off towards him. Ready and willing to rend the flesh from his bones