The Catacombs of Wild Energy

[Fenric]

Thorvard turns, still in the boat, holding his nose.

Vat now?

There isn't long to wait: around the corner comes a figure dressed in ornate black enameled armor with a white skull on the breastplate and a leering skull helmet, and bearing a large jagged black sword. The gaunt, dead face inside may once of been an elf, but the burning red orbs hanging in the empty eye sockets are filled with hate and hunger. Unfortunately, invisibility doesn't seem to impress it very much and it lurches toward Raril.

Thorvard jumps out of the boat.

Verdammt! Priestess, quick: bless our weapons so we can hit it!