Larem raised his hands to shield his face from the stone and bone fragments that were sure to hit him—yet rather than the satisfying crunch of an undead monster smashed to bits, there came only a muted thud and a hiss of displeasure.

Larem hissed and dropped the silver piece, yet his fingertips burned from the frigid contact.

Larem winced as Dargley spouted his usual gibberish. He leaned over and nudged his fellow beggar.

Boots went, hastily.

Tantaerra hastily transferred her hands to just the bottom edge of the crate-lid as she backed away—and the first slashing blows fell on it, numbingly hard.