[GM note: I will briefly control a few of your actions to get the ball rolling. Complaints can be directed at me in the OOC tab.]Hector narrowed his eyes when Baladas Venym emerged from the soil. "Yes, that would be a shame," he commented, immediately wary of the Dunmer sorcerer. Who dives into an air vent like that? Hector shook his head and hoped Venym's eclectic behavior wouldn't become a problem.
With the arrival of the Blackbird, the entire party was assembled. As the Nord finished his rant, he ended with
"I digress. Shall we begin spelunking?". Hector nodded and unsheathed his sword, coating it in a layer of Fire poison from one of the flasks fastened at his hip. Drops of poison ran down the length of the blade and dropped from the tip, sizzling and burning small holes in the forest floor. With his free hand, Hector withdrew his shield from his back and slipped his left arm through the leather straps. "Yes, let us be off," Hector said.
As the rest finished their own preparations, Hector strode over to the wooden gates of the Nordic tomb and carefully pushed against one with his steel boot. With remarkably little resistance, the wooden door swung open inwards, revealing total darkness. Looking over his shoulder, Hector locked eyes with Merci and asked: "Care to replicate that magelight cantrip of yours?"
In response, a sputtering magelight drifted past Hector and into the tomb. It illuminated stone walls covered in old Nordic inscriptions; Hector could see figures on either side of a priest or sorcerer of some kind, and the heavily-stylized head of a dragon looming above them all. A small shiver ran down Hector's back as he recalled Balen's words about the Dragon Priests.
Stairs, the steps old and in disrepair, descended into the earth. Merci's magelight didn't illuminate the passage for more than ten meters in any direction, so it was impossible to tell what would wait for them at the bottom. "Come on," Hector said, as much to himself as the other party members, and stepped into the tomb, carefully navigating the steps, keeping his eyes fixed on the uneven floor.
A few minutes later...
Suddenly, there was the bottom of the stairs. Hector looked up and found himself staring into a large, circular chamber. Merci's magelight drifted onwards to the center of the room. The walls were decorated with even more inscriptions, depicting scenes of burial and worship.
How high up is the ceiling? Hector thought to himself, as the magelight only revealed the walls vanishing into the darkness above them. Gingerly, Hector approached the center of the room, his head pivoting as if on a swivel. He spotted several sarcophagi lining the room, with even more propped up against the walls or standing upright in man-sized alcoves. The rest of the party followed behind him, breathing quietly in the deathly silence of the tomb.
That was when Balen stood on a pressure plate. The small
clack and the sound of grinding stone echoed through the circular chamber. Hector turned to face him, his mouth opened to say something, when the sound of more stones scraping against each other behind him grabbed his attention. The entrance to the chamber had been sealed off by a pair of stone doors, blocking off their escape route. Then he heard a similar sound from the other side of the chamber. And to his right. And to his left.
All around them, the sarcophagi were opening.
"To me!" Hector yelled, his decades of training and leadership experience kicking in. "Form a circle and stand with your backs to each other! Blackbird, I've got this side, you cover the other!" Hector and the Nord pirate were, as far as Hector could tell, the only two members of the party with significant experience in close-quarters combat. Hector hoped the two of them would be able to fend their enemies off while the others could use their bows and magic and whatnot to dispatch the walking dead from a distance.
Emerging from the gloom came more than a dozen -- perhaps even two dozen -- Draugr. Their death rattles and gurgling filled the air, and Hector spotted the gleam of swords and axes. The Imperial raised his shield and sword, ready to jab at anything that came too close, and not a second too late, either; one of the Draugr ran at him, sword swinging, wheezing something in a language Hector didn't understand. Hector caught the blow on his shield and drove his sword into the ancient Nord's chest, which burst into flames almost instantly. The Draugr collapsed to the ground in several parts as its chest disintegrated.
First blood, Hector grimly thought to himself.
The first of many. 
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