[SP-PT-09] Polishing off the Iron Knights

Freyd stood on a dark rise overlooking the roasted valley below. Everything here smelled of sulfur, brimstone, and death - death that crawled. Shambling across the landscape were dozens of undead soldiers, most of them looking that have been seared, boiled or otherwise summarily cooked in their metal armors. It was like watching a field of rent and broken cans, waiting for someone to come along and pop them open to get the loot out. 'I volunteer,' he thought to himself, grinning out one

He'd barely turned to peer into the keep's courtyard when another wave of armored guardians south to take him down. Their blades failed to penetrate, and soon vanished along with their slain masters, but the sound of battle had already alerted the rest of the keep to Freyd's presence. It wasn't a large structure, and little of it had survived beyond the first level. There were only so many place for monsters to hide. If a boss lurked around here somewhere, Freyd had seen no sign of it.