To say that Gerald was happy to be walking on the Ashen Plains again was something of an understatement. It helped him feel closer to his ancestors, and it increased his resolve. Death before surrender. He spurred the horse forward and it grudgingly trudged on towards the tombs. He had teleported the day before and was now within riding distance. He blocked some ash from entering his mouth as he rode, but he kept his guard up. He was in an area that was relatively unknown to him, and there was another power that seemed to be around him. It was a familiar, Necromantic, power, and it made him nervous.
He reached the tombs around noon and dismounted the horse. Unloading the waterpack from the horse's back, he teleported the beast back to the Wizard's southern territories to roam free. He wandered to the door of the tomb and banged loudly on it, five times in proper Necromantic tradition. The door slowly opened, but only a sliver and a harsh voice called out, "Who is here?"
