For the next two days, the men of the now sunken fleet huddled alongside the men of the now stranded army within and around the ruins of an old coastal town. Most of the more fragile features of the obviously once-vibrant town had long since been reduced to dust and had been lost on the wind, or rather, lack thereof. The only parts that remained of this place were the few shattered remnants of buildings that had been made of stone or brick, and even then, these last testaments to a now-dead nation and faith were in a state of serious disrepair.

The most ‘defensible’ position in the town, if you could call it that, was the old church that stood higher and taller than most other ruins. Perhaps out of a sense of duty to their faith, the long since dead natives had the church build out of stone blocks that had been as large and ornate as their budget could allow.

Now, however, these details were burned away, crushed, or had otherwise been damaged beyond any hope of salvage and the once polished stone that had gleamed like a beacon in the sunlight was now tarnished, covered in scorch marks, and had fractures running across nearly every part of it. It was a miracle that the roof had not completely collapsed yet, but there were signs of its imminent failure, such as large holes and the occasional piece of wood, metal, and/ or stone that would fall to the ground inside.

But even still, the structure was the most complete and gave the best vantage point from which to look out for Pluton’s return. That had to be worth something, right?

….

Pluton watched from within the clouds as the dumb little monkeys hurried about like ants trying to protect and serve their hive. Every second that passed resulted in these vermin attempting to fortify their position ever more, and this was very much no Bueno for the undead monstrosity. As night was falling, Pluton wondered if he should engage in some hit and run strikes against the hastily constructed fort, even if only to push them out of it and force them to run. His thoughts about the matter ceased, however, when he saw a group of humanoids wandering closer and closer to the edge of the invaders’ little bastion.

There was no stink of life from them, only the pleasant odor of the risen dead, and this confused Pluton to no end. Why would these undead, those whom he had repeatedly and routinely wiped out to keep this place pure, approach the living, their natural enemy, with so few allies? It was almost as though they were intelligent enough to attempt to make an effort to talk, but not smart enough to realize that they would just be struck down. Then again, he had noticed that every time he crushed, ate, melted, burned, froze, petrified, and/ or generally destroyed the undead that rose here that they would just come back again, but with slightly more sentience than before.

Maybe these undead were going to try converting? Well, even if they now worshipped his Master, he would not spare them. They kept occupying the graveyard that Kain had created, the monument to the failure of the Luminas Church/ Confederacy, and that was cause enough to destroy them until they got the message and left.

But, while Pluton had pride in doing his self-appointed job, he also was getting rather bored with it. Maybe watching these crazy undead try and negotiate would alleviate his apathy?

…

“Sir, undead on the horizon!”

“Is it that giant lizard?!”

The messenger shook his head.

“No, sir. Just fifteen Skeletons. They didn’t seem hostile, but we loosed arrows on them all the same.”

“And? Was that it?”

The scout nodded. “For a while. But then, roughly ten minutes later, the same damn Skeletons in the same damn clothing appeared again.”

“But how?”

The messenger shrugged. “When the Skeletons were destroyed the first time, their bones and clothes turned to ash and dust. We assume that there is some kind of revival apparatus nearby, but as the terrain outside is exceedingly hostile, we are unable to confirm this.”

The expedition’s surviving top brass sighed.

“Well just destroy them again!”

“We did, sir. Seventeen times, sir.”

“S-seventeen?!”

The messenger nodded.

“Yes, sir. The men have grown tired of trying to put these seemingly harmless Skeletons down, and so we yelled at them to state what they wanted.”

“You can’t expect undead to talk, you kno-.”

“They wanted us to, and I quote, ‘surrender to the will of the God of Death and His Draconic Angel of Ruin’, sir.”

The top brass looked at each other and half snickered, and half sighed.

“And you destroyed them again?”

“Yes, sir. That was number 8, sir. Every time since then they have come and started attempting to proselytize, sir. It has gotten some of the men spooked, sir.”

“Well, seemingly unkillable undead that only wants to spout some paganist bullshit certainly would cause some discomfort and concern… Just keep destroying them. Eventually, they’ll give up and leave us to prepare for that beast’s return.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll relay that command to the men, sir.”

…

“That made attempt number seventeen, Father.”

Another Skeleton nodded sagely.

“Yes, my daughter, but this is an act of love and mercy. Should they take our teachings into their hearts and souls, they may be spared the wrath of our fellow devotees. Remember, everyone, we are doing them a favor by trying to save them in this way. Should they perish on these holy lands before taking the Gospel into themselves, they may spend months in torturous agony as new servants of the Lord. Remember the time we all spent in the earliest days of our second life and the madness that had claimed us. We do this for them, not for ourselves.”

“Yes, Father. We will try as many times as we can to save them from the madness that will claim any unsaved soul when they fall on this sacred ground. But we must work quickly, right? Perhaps if we are a bit more forceful, we can enlighten them before the others arrive to usher them into their second life?”

“You cannot save people completely so quickly, my child. We need time, and hopefully, The Angel of Ruin will grant us that. Now, let us try again. Maybe we can at least put some kind of doubt in their cause into their minds this time, and if not, then we must try again and again until we have no more time.”

…

“So, Bones Malone and the Spooky Boys are back at it again?”

“Yep. More preaching; more doom and gloom.”

“Got an arrow?”

“Where are you gonna put it?”

“Gonna do us all a favor and put it in its jaw. That’ll shut the damn undead preacher up for a while and give us some peace and quiet to work with.”

“Savage, but here you go.”

The archer took the arrow, nocked it, and before letting it fly, yelled at the top of his lungs.

“JUST SHUT UP!”