It was a curious thing, Cyrdic would think later, that despite facing Dragons, Wights, and the Daemons of hell itself, that the most horrifying thing in his life is hearing Camilla scream. He wasn't fast enough to reach her, and as he skid to a stop at the precipice, he could at least hear rushing water. [i]Calm down, man. She can take care of herself, you know she can. It will not help her to have you panicking up here[/i]. He also had more immediate dangers as the [i]thing[/i] raised from the kindling of where it had crashed. 

Its skin, if the slime encrusted fabric-like hull on its body could truly be called that, looked both wet and perpetually dried all at once. But what was more horrifying was its snarling curl of a mouth, with fangs dripping what Cyrdic imagined was pox ridden mucus. It raised its haunches like a wolf, something Cyrdic was all too familiar with from his dreams. He knew what to expect, and when the thing jumped impossibly fast, Cyrdic was already moving, his sword where his body once stood. Most men wouldn't have the strength to cut the flying monstrosity, but were it his powerful form or his runic sword, the Ghoul was sliced from balls to brains and left to hit the wall. 

He looked at the ghoul slumping, wondering if a former corpse could become a corpse again... 

It looked like it. Briefly he wanted to jump down into the hole that led to where Camilla was, but he would likely sink far easier than she. Not that he wasn't prepared to if he found no other way down. He turned and gazed deeper into the catacombs, now hearing more shuffling in the deep of the various crypts. Likely they had landed in a nest of the things. "Ulric's balls." he cursed, and simply ran further into the gloom, passing awakening beasts and hoping beyond hopes he would find an exit before he was surrounded. A wretched screech to his left got his attention as a ghoul swiped at him. It likely merely scratched his brettonian apparel, and he ran it through before it could fully utilize itself. 

It melted under the blazing runes of the Ulrican Sword, but behind him more Ghouls were gathering, and they would be less sluggish than this one. 

There was a turn up ahead, and he could feel the cool feeling of new air just as he felt the shambling of undead beasts behind him, itching to taste warm flesh in their jowls. Down another corridor, he ran into a large door of yew, bound in iron bolts. He tried to open it, but the door wouldn't budge. Beyond, he could hear running water. Roaring with pentup rage, he slammed his massive fists into the wood twice, thrice, and another brought it down. 

Ironically, the door wouldn't fit going down the roughly hewn stairs, so he kept it at the top to ward off anything that pursued, though truth be told it would only cause a dozen seconds delay at most. He didn't care, rushing into the lower depths to find Camilla. 
[@Penny]