Sir Eberwolf Kinniger
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Armed men barred her way, something she had come to expect at this point. She gave them but a moment's thought, her mind focused on the task at hand. She brought the hand up that held the mist and blew it from her palm as a child would flower petals into the wind. The mist flew forward as if taken by a sudden gust of heavy wind and enveloped the halberdiers in wisps of darkness.
The closest screamed in terror as the black, magical fog ate at exposed skin and rotted the muscle beneath. Like the ghouls, those caught fully in the mist quickly crumpled, their flesh horribly decayed and exposed bones withered and blackened. Survivors stumbled away clutching at foul wounds while those yet untouched staggered back in visible terror at the creature in their midst.
Vulture cocked her head, her porcelain face motionless as she regarded the men left before her. She slowly raised a hand, fingers pointing at the ground below. Gray mist rose slowly from the earth below as she stepped forward, the fog swirling around her feet and slowly blanketing the area. Those within the spell's effect quickly found their visibility greatly reduced, individuals turning into vague shapes and shadows in the haze.
Meanwhile, the blackened and withered bodies on the ground began to twitch...
The villagers screamed, yes, and they fled, but the soldiers were disciplined and had faced far worse. So they took a step back, and each swung their long polearm at the white woman, giving her little room to avoid the heavy-hitting weapons. Despite her ability to kill with mist, she faced a collective opponent that in this instance was beyond her capabilities to overcome. The dead might rise, but only to be struck down again by the veterans.
The mist covered their sight, so they went back to back, and called out in a foreign language. “Hexe! Hier drüben!”