The air around the battlefield grew colder, thick with the stench of death and decay. As James and his allies fought fiercely against the Draugr, there was an unnatural heaviness settling over them, a feeling that something far more sinister was about to emerge. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and a low, guttural chant echoed across the battlefield, carried on the icy wind.
James could feel it in his bones. Something dark and malevolent was stirring.
The Dragonkin warriors continued their battle, but fear began to creep into their hearts. The Draugr didn't bleed, didn't scream in pain, and didn't die easily. Even when cut down, some of the undead warriors would rise again, twisted and disfigured by the dark magic that animated them. Their hollow, glowing blue eyes burned with an otherworldly hunger, their decaying flesh hanging from bones that cracked and popped as they moved.
