A soft breeze rolls over pathways, a lone raven perched on a dead branch over looking the Necropolis, crows into the cool night air. As a thick fog rolls over the burial grounds, they awaken, called to back to the land of the living by their new master, eager to do his bidding, to feed on flesh, break bone, strike fear into the hearts of any who oppose their lord. As they claw their way out of their tombs, crawling out of their graves, moaning and groaning, the raven takes flight, floating on the wind, away from the dead, and towards the living in a nearby town of pheasants and lords alike, unaware of the terror soon to consume their lives.

Through the Necropolis fog

nicidwarxx Necropolis 1