<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="background-color:#353535; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=6&amp;t=42390&amp;p=209208#p222835"><span style="font-family: Blackadder ITC;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #c7eff0">Mandag</span></span></span></a></div><img alt="" src="http://i.imgur.com/41WxNwa.png" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/>ha-?!"<br/><br/>Lost in her book, Mandag wasn't even aware that the skeletons were closing in on her until it was too late. The book fell out of her grasp as she was rudely hoisted up by her wrists and pinned against a wooden stake by bony fingers. Another skeleton, carrying a handful of seven inch nails and a hammer, approached her with as much of a cruel grin as an expressionless skull could muster. Sure enough, the nails went through her hands and feet, but being far less magical than the skeletons, Mandag didn't feel a thing. As soon as the skeletons let her go and stepped back to admire their handiwork, she simply dropped the ten centimeters to the ground and looked at them warily. What kind of evil would make long dead soldiers rise from their graves to harm an innocent?<br/><br/>She snatched up her book, clutching it to her chest. It was the only form of shield she had, if they chose to run at her, and even if they could not harm her, she still felt instinctively afraid. Something was deeply wrong; someone was keeping an eye on her, and she whirled around - seeing nothing but the sunlit clearing and the tower in the distance. The creak of rusty armor reached her ears and she turned back to watch her assailants, only, they weren't watching her at all anymore. In fact, they looked <span style="font-style: italic">bored</span>, as if someone had taken away their purpose and left them without anywhere to go. One of them was wandering aimlessly around the great oak, another had slumped to the ground. Some just stood watching the sky, as if hoping that a new victim might drop out of it right in front of them.<br/><br/>Mandag went cold, colder than she could ever recall being. "No," she whispered, stretching out a hand towards one of them. She watched in horror as it passed right through. "No, no nonononono," she gasped as the book fell from her hands and to the ground with a dull thud, opening to a page displaying a beautiful watercolor of a horned woman wearing all purple and black. Was it just Mandag, or were she grinning at her? The elverpige tried to scream, but no sound left her lips. The last thing she ever saw, before the world forgot her, were the skeletons who suddenly rose like one and followed the bubbling stream out of the forest.</div></div>