The other brigands readily agreed with the tall man, and soon Kurtz found himself walking into the room alone, the spark of hope extinguished. As he approached the treasure, the skeleton on the throne shook sharply, the head snapping up and looking at Kurtz. It stood up, one hand holding the heavy staff, and the other taking the curved dagger from its chest. It began to move toward him with a speed that most would have thought impossible for such an aged corpse.
Shocked at the sight before him, Kurtz was unable to escape the knife that the skeleton thrust into him, falling on the floor, life pouring out from him onto the black floor. He pulled himself to the side of the room, attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the undead monster.

The trio of bandits armed themselves quickly, having used the boy’s distraction to give themselves extra time. The short man charged in first, lifting his axe attempting to cleave the skeleton from head to toe. The undead being quickly side stepped the attack, its unnatural speed allowing it to easily avoid the heavy blow. The thin man shot a bolt of purple, crackling arcane flame at the creature, leaving a scorching wound that continued to burn even as it advanced. The leader took his sword, and swung a sideways arc at the monster, scoring a hit that took the arm with the dagger off at the elbow.

The skeleton then levied the scepter at the stocky man, and bolts of lightning arced out, causing the places if his armor it touched to glow red hot as he burned from the inside out. The little man fell over, his axe falling out of his hand, sliding across the floor. The monster attempted to aim the scepter at the swordsman, the golden orb at the head glowing white hot in preparation, as the tall man in the back sent a spell that froze the skeleton in place, allowing the leader to swing his sword hard, taking the head off in a brutal swing.

The force of the blow knocked the monster to the floor, the scepter spilling away. Even headless, the creature attempted to stand again, and continue the attack, but the large man took his sword and began hacking away at the bones, chopping them into splinters.

The endeavor caused sweat to coat the swordsman from head to toe, as anytime he attempted to stop, the remaining bones would attempt to rise. Eventually the spellcaster had to create a stream of fire and burn the body to cease its movements, allowing them a moments peace.

Kurtz laid against the wall, not moving, his breathing shallow and imperceptible. The short man did not move either, the blast from the rod killing him in a flash of arcane power. His comrades did not spare his corpse a glance, both watching the burning heap to make sure they would not rise again. After they were satisfied that the danger was done, they turned to the treasure, panting from the exertion. “Well, treasure splits easier two ways than three anyway Carter.” the tall man said between puffs of air, the act of conjuring multiple spells so quickly causing as much physical strain as swinging a sword.

“Aye, Merek, and one splits easiest of all.” The large, bearded man then ran the end of his sword through the tall, thin man, the end sticking half a foot out of the back. “Good work old friend, I could never have gotten here without you.” Pulling his sword out, the eyes of the tall man white with surprise as he fell to the floor.