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As you destroy the last of the fleshless skeletons, you see that the struggle has spread beyond the walls of the churchyard. From the depths of an open crypt, a shambling mass of zombies are hurling themselves at the riders, tearing the terrified warriors from their saddles. Roark's summonation has gone horribly out of control; no living creature is safe from the terror he has unleashed.
The lordling turns and gallops away in blind panic, leaving his followers to their grisly deaths. As he disappears, the swirling funnel of darkness slowly fades, and the undead stagger and fall, crumbling into dust, which is carried away on the evening breeze.
You rush to the aid of the old magician, who lies, mortally wounded, pinned beneath the body of his dead horse. As you cradle his head in your hands, his eyes flicker and open and he forces a whisper from his blood-flecked lips:
'Brass . . . Street . . .'
A trickle of blood seeps from the corner of the old man's mouth as his eyes flicker and close. He is dead. You bury him in the graveyard of the church where he fell and say a silent prayer to the spirits of the Kai to watch over him on his final journey. A sadness fills your heart, and you take one last look at the oaken staff that marks his grave before setting off on the highway to Varetta.
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