The Paladin in the Abyss

In the dimly lit passageway, three Dwarf Temple Guards marched in the front row, adept in combat within subterranean environments. Behind them, Priest Witt and four dwarves formed an arrowhead formation, well-prepared for any crisis.

Kalalin, Koula, Phil, and Alamir walked in the middle of the group, well-protected by their teammates. Bruto and the werewolf Reap moved on the flanks, a position suitable for strikers to comfortably attack the enemy's side without the risk of being caught in a pincer.

Lancelot lagged at the rear, certainly not out of fear, but rather because the bone pits gave him an uneasy feeling; he was somewhat concerned that something unpleasant might catch up and take a bite out of their rear.

"An underground passageway—how many great adventures have taken place in such settings!" A certain enthusiastic skeleton, having been confined for far too long, darted about, studying every stone in the passageway, "This place is quite spacious. Who built it? Definitely not those Tanari; they wouldn't exert effort on anything that doesn't bleed..."

"For the Jackalwere Tribe that steals corpses," old Reap interrupted Eckmond's rambling, "We are descending now; the passage will go right through the bottom of the bone pit and then spiral upward, leading directly to the interior of the Jackalwere warrens outside Oasis Fort."

"Are there many Jackalweres at the exit?" Bruto tapped his shield with his hammer, "I wouldn't mind slaughtering a few stinking dogs to blow off some steam."

"The Jackalwere Tribe that originally dug this passage is long gone, probably done in by their own Necromancy. Now, there's only a small Jackalwere tribe that occupies but a tiny part of that vast network of tunnels." Old Reap shrugged, "Given the current situation, I don't recommend seeking out trouble with those creatures."

As they were talking, the group turned a corner and were suddenly faced with a massive cavern.

The cavern was very spacious in area, but less than twelve feet high, which made the space feel oppressive. Several places in the ceiling had collapsed, letting a mass of bones spill through and accumulate into piles that reached up to the ceiling.
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"This is the doing of the Jackalweres, but at the bottom of the pit are only bones that have been dead for a long time; I guess the Jackalweres kept digging to that entrance we passed earlier to get to fresher corpses," the werewolf explained like a tour guide, "Let's stop here a moment."

Curiously, everyone watched as he bent over to pick up a few stones, then threw them one by one at the piles of bones.

"I haven't been here in a while, need to check if any of the little guys aren't resting too peacefully," old Reap explained while throwing the stones, "In these places full of death and ruin, every now and then one or two skeletons will stand back up, but there aren't many of them, and they're easy to deal with. Once, a skeleton hit my head with a femur, and guess what?

That femur broke into two pieces just like a piece of rotting wood..."

"I think you've told me this scenario before," Phil said skeptically to old Reap, "Last time, you said you were fighting a Lich."

"You're mistaken," the werewolf retorted bluntly, "I swear this is the first time I narrated this story, and if it's not, may a Barlow Flame Demon appear right before me and roast you to a crisp!"

"I believe you, my arse!" the goblin, clearly not understanding the werewolf's muddled last words, responded automatically, provoking a chuckle from the group.

Old Reap laughed smugly, but his smile froze into an ugly expression as a rustling sound echoed around them.

A pile of bones he had already thrown suddenly erupted with a violent commotion, as if brought to life, countless bones poured out from it like rats shaken from their hiding spots in the heap, tumbling toward the ground and assembling into skeletons in front of everyone, too numerous to count.

"What the heck did you do, you dumbass?!" Phil cursed angrily, but the only response was the hissing roar of the skeletons, which held nothing but hatred for the living.

"I just threw a stone!" Old Reap howled back, indignant, "There were never this many before!"

The skeletons charged at them, wielding sharp femur bones in their hands. The three Dwarf Temple Guards at the forefront were the first to encounter the skeletons and greeted their enemies with a vicious Shield Bash.

The Heavy Steel Shields collided with the attackers' bone frames, resulting in a remarkable effect. Several skeletons were smashed apart on impact, their bones twitching on the ground trying to reassemble, but due to the utterly thorough shattering, they soon ran out of the Magic Power needed to stand back up and became still.

"Ha! Seems pretty simple!" Seeing the enemy apparently less challenging, Bruto cheered and rushed out swinging his hammer. Phil had already pulled out a few bombs, but the sight of the Dwarf already deep in the enemy ranks brought to mind the image of Lancelot punching a wall, so he begrudgingly put the explosives back.

Skeletons were innately vulnerable to blunt trauma, and with Bruto's hammer endowed with Mithril and his body sheathed in armor suited for a head-on charge, the young Dwarf was like a bull in a china shop. The skeletons crumbled upon impact, leaving a trail of shattered bones in his wake.

The Werewolf, too, surged forward with his dual swords, his bearings suggesting an experienced hand at dealing with skeletons. His blades would first block the clumsy attacks of the enemy, then he'd launch a kick to shatter their bones—almost as effective as the hammer.

For those skeletons attempting to piece themselves back together on the ground, he'd kick their skulls far away to also prevent their revival.

An unexpectedly potent fighter was Eckmond; his bald head worked like a cannonball flying through the air, smashing the skeletons to bits while the enemies struggled to land a hit on him.

That guy had rushed out without even asking for Lance's opinion, clearly demonstrating the so-called master-servant contract meant little.

Alamir had been ready to unleash a powerful Divine Art to disperse the skeletons, but seeing the warriors looking quite amused in battle, he ceased his movement and comfortably watched the spectacle.

Kalalin didn't plan to waste his spells on these skeletons—there was no better opportunity to utilize a sling. He hardly needed to aim; simply throwing at the dense crowds of enemies was sufficient.

Koula, meanwhile, stayed put. Halflings were always clear on what they needed to do, and Koula was no exception; she was certain her larger friends didn't need her help, so she just waited.

Lancelot, too, remained out of the fight, not because he believed Bruto and the others didn't appear to need his help, but because, with his Spirit Perception fully engaged, he had sensed a cold, malevolent wave of magic.

The Werewolf's words might have contained some bravado, but there was no lie about the 'normal' circumstances here. These resurrected skeletons must have been awakened by magic, and the Spellcaster was likely nearby.