[Quiet Man Cometh]

Corpses and broken stone now made a ring around the psychic. All but blind, she stumbled around the few headstones she hadn't yet torn from the ground, guided by the glow from enumerable bronze swords that lay smoldering in the earth.

FLEE! BELOW! NOW, OR WE ALL DIE!

Tarja cringed, grit her teeth and sent a flash of annoyance back at the assassin, which had all the effect of a whisper in a strong breeze when she felt his mental presence suddenly slip away. “Fine, you’re forgiven this time.”

Tarja let out a heavy, relieving sigh and broken stone and grave markers hit the ground around her, no longer suspended in the air. She blinked away the white blindness from her eye and drew her axe from its holster across her back. Her vision began to clear, but black spots still danced about and the ground arced towards here in a nauseating pattern.

She was blessedly close to the stairway, and with each step the ground started to settle beneath her feet, though the black spots still dotted her vision. A few crude swings with her axe disabled the few undead that had started to push back into the clearing, and when she reached the stairway she grabbed one of the bronze swords that lay scattered about the cemetery like glorified firewood. The flames that still lapped at the blade lit the stairwell, and the still bodies of Thomas and Diogenes at the bottom. She descended as fast as she dared.