What part of reanimated skeletal monstrosities don’t you assholes GET!?

Storm was positively flabbergasted by the tandem of young adventurers, simply amazed at their boldness in the face of the horrors crawling up from the earth about them all. The girl seemed to prattle on and on, either oblivious or indifferent to the handful of bone-bundles pulling itself from the mud about them all. To top things off, she attempted to flirt with him, a seductive and alluring game that felt all the more absurd in the evening. Admittedly, he did catch a good eyeful of soft chest flesh in the moonlight.

Shake that sweet ass later, sweetheart. You’ve got to be kidding me with this siren routine right now.

Storm tried to keep an eye on the duo as he stepped back, fully aware that Attila had now gained significant distance from them. The open, dead maw of a skeleton looked as though it tried to groan at the wizard beneath its soulless, empty eye sockets. The beastly thing was crawling towards Storm before it could walk, pulling itself forward as legs were dragged free of the mud.

“Not now, sweetheart. Maybe make yourself useful, or for your own sake, screw. If you stand here and get in my way, you won’t want to be in my way when I’m done with these bony bastards.”

The Rat continued to hum from his hand, but the blade could wait. This was elegant business. Storm raised his hand to the skeleton, considering how the bones seemed brown, yellow and filthy, rather than the gleaming white he had envisioned in childish nightmares. As his fingers buzzed white, the smell of the fresh, clean ozone cut through the dank and fetid air. A wicked blast fired forward, sending bone mass shattering away in a spectacular spray pattern. A series of thump sounds toned about the place.

One down, maybe four to go. Need to be quick, keep an eye on those morons.

The electromancer began to pivot, looking for his next target before he heard an awful sound. The drudging of earth continued from whence he had fired his ferocious blast. There, a ludicrous mass lurched ahead; a half torso, split at the sternum, with a right shoulder and head nowhere to be seen. It slowly moved, somehow bearing down towards him. The absence of a head devoid of eyes seemed to do little to impact whatever sensing mechanisms drove the horrible thing.

“How do you kill these f*cking things!?”

His voice had deepened and carried a rage with it now, nostrils flared and eyes white with hot rage. His left hand was already buzzing again, ready to obliterate the same skeletal monstrosity that dragged at him. Scanning his perimeter, there were now four full skeletons about them, each nearly fully unearthed and moving forwards.

Can I trust these two to help, or is sugartits going to sweet-talk me right up until the knife slips between my shoulder blades? Maybe I cut the chit-chat and just blow them away to get things moving.

He would give them a moment of trust; there was a chance they aren’t here to kill him, but the calcium creations left no doubt.