Hannibil spun about, his bastard sword Spirit of the Land held flat as he arced a wide swing at the oncoming zombies. He lacked the further resolve to channel the necessary energy to thwart the undead, but that fact did not diminish Hannibil Raventree’s paladin ability to boost his brethren followers of Kelemvor.
Hannibil Raventree is one of three noble paladins in the Hall of Heroes who seek to aid Kelemvor in his divine bid as Tempus. Before being enlightened to the cause Hannibil, with his fellow brothers of the sword Vilarus Gundwynd and Melykurion Jhansczil, long fought against the corrupt prison warden of Deepwater Isle Castellan Pietor but a higher purpose called their blades and their loyalty this day.
Hannibil, Vilarus, and Melykurion were what remained of Kelemvor's legions that held the undead from entering the city. The men stood in a triangle formation so they could not be flanked, but that did not stop the corpse gatherer’s cast off zombies from simply surrounding them. Wide earthy grins shown under lifeless eyes as the undead advanced heedless of the paladin’s lethal swords.
Melykurion produced an amulet and held it over his head, his sword held defensively before him as he spoke the amulet's words of power. The amulet, one given to each of the three, was in the shape of Kelemvor’s symbol: Tempus’ sword blazing with goodness and honor. The amulet flew from Melykurion's outstretched hands; it grew in proportion and hovered over the City of the Dead- where they fought to protect the city.
But just as the flame from the projected image reached its highest intensity, a palpable grey entropy thrashed out pervading every ally and city street. It came on the heels of a raking gust of sharp wind that reopened wounds and inflicted new ones all of which bled unabated.
To Valarus’ left corpses of fallen city guards were upset as the Blood Wind washed over the fallen bodies; on his right Hannibil, who seems to have dropped his guard and was staring unbelieving at a point beyond the fight. Valarus raised his sword he knocked a creature aside giving Hannibil time to mentally rejoin the combat.
All eyes followed what Hannibil was looking at.
The grey entropy filled the mortal wounds of the fallen city guards; warriors opened lifeless eyes and began to spasm and thrash about trying to stand from where their mortal lives were taken. Bones cracked and tendons stretched, the sound was maddening. The creatures were unlike anything they had ever learned in all their years of training in Daggerford.
They had a hungry malnourished appearance; under coifs and armor of chain pallid flesh seemed to stretch tightly over their starved frame. Hands and fingers burst from leather gloves becoming claws that looked capable of rending flesh, they had teeth that were unnaturally long and each bore a look of ravenous unnatural hunger.
And the worst thing of all Hannibil thought, was that in the dark they still looked like city guards.