The torrent of rain and the thunder was a distant backdrop, and had it been closer to night, one might have actually found it soothing. Amal did too, even if his senses were keen enough to know that this wasn't an ordinary underground tunnel. No hidden tunnels ever seemed to be, in his experience. He looked at his love, somehow resplendent even with soaked hair and muck splattered. The Arbyan tapped his nose. 

"Smell that?" He asked, and he took in a huge whiff to make sure he wasn't misconstruing the air. It was both cold and thick, with the only fresh air coming from behind them and above, and it was sparse. Before them a few dozen feet away, there was another opening from above. Likely someone else had fallen here under similar circumstances at some point, or perhaps the hill had simply caved in a bit. "The air is both old and new, which means this place is very old. Something keeps it hidden. Your northern lands are so bountiful, it's a wonder no one has come by here and pried open anything, as many tombs are vacant even among the dunes in Araby. Which means something here keeps them out..." In the shadow, his skin looked even darker. A sculpted stygian figure with glittering eyes of mischief. "Follow me." 

"Aren't you the one that tends to look for danger?" She asked as they took a few steps. 

Amal chuckled and spun, his face very close to hers. "Yes, but there's always profit in it. I thought that was how you liked your danger." 

The two of them grinned like jackals, and their faces drew nearer as if they were to begin kissing. They were, unfortunately, rudely interrupted by a skeletal hand piercing a patch of earth on the wall; one of the small sections devoid of stone. The flesh stripped bare, it shot between them and caused Emmaline to squawk again. Amal's eyes widened, but he caught the hand. Emmaline scowled and raised her staff, whacking the limb clean off. It fell limp as if whatever power had enacted its animation was clipped from the source, though the dirt still seemed to move a bit as the skeleton still lay trapped within. 

"So there's a few dead men." Amal shrugged, a decidedly different view of the undead that most Imperial citizens would have. Likely most Arabyans too, but Amal was quite familiar with such curses in tombs. 

He would eat his words as the sound of the storm was drown out by rock grinding along rock, and loud claps of stone slabs hitting the stone floor. Slowly, undead skeletons and zombies ahead of them began to reach out from the walls where they had been lain. Amal showed his teeth in a 'that's not good' fashion. He grabbed Emmaline's hand, pulling her forward to run past the slow moving monstrosities before they could get on their feet.   

[@Penny]