"Your, master?" Vanilla spoke. Now in relatively good terms, without intentions of killing each other, together they approached the dead man on the floor, whose's blood had already dried and coagulated into a puddle of jello.
"Yeah. Sir William Oaths. It's supposed to be my duty to bring whoever found this bunker to his treasures, who also has to be worthy of them. A person with a 'Heart of gold and natural bravery' or something like that. And that must be you."
Vanilla wanted to take that as a compliment, but she could not believe that such cheesy words were meant to her. Was that talking skeleton making a mistake, or was he tricking them into something nasty?
He tried something and she'd use the aquamarine. His undead body would not withstand the healing force of life and youth.
"And how do you know that Chosen One is me? Could be as well this poor bastard dead right here." She pointed at the body.
