The stairs leading down were old and rickety, and poorly maintained; like the stairs leading to Cedrik's basement room, they weren't meant for anyone coming down to be unheard. Still, she was light, and moving slowly, so they only creaked a<em>little</em>.<br/><br/>Down below, it was cool and dark, but a steady, pale yellow glow lit the area, along with what she would recognize as the slow, steady words of spellcasting. It sounded<em>vaguely</em>similar to the words that ha called her to this world, but at the same time, horribly<em>wrong,</em>in the same way the undead felt<em>wrong.</em><br/><br/>If she drew closer, she'd find a man in blood-stained green robes, standing over a makeshift table, a man's body splayed out on it. He throat had been torn out, his clothing soaked with blood, and small gemstones had been placed over his eyes, and in his mouth. The mage stood near the body's head, across the room from her, about fifteen feet away, not quite facing her, but not with his back towards her, either, gesturing over the body and intoning in slow, steady, rhythmic words.<br/><br/>A DC 17 Perception check notices a ghoul, lurking in the shadows near him, keeping unnaturally still; it almost looked truly dead, aside from slight flickers of its eyes.