When in the town of Cathod Milith, a cleric follower of the platinum dragon god Bahamut, hears word that there has been stealing of corpses from the graveyard just outside of town. Finishing his ale he waits until the sun is low in the sky, just above the treeline on the northern side of Cathod. The trip to the graveyard is a quick one, the darkness presents no trouble for his dwarven eyesight, he slips inside the gate and lies in wait behind a tombstone overlooking a freshly dug grave. He plants his axe on the ground but doesn’t have to wait long before three shapes appear from the western gate. Three shapes shuffle over and begin digging at the dirt with bare hands. Standing from his hiding spot he shouts to the figures, “Begone ye wretched fiends!” When they show no indication of stopping he gives a grunt and hurls his axe into the back of one of three. It gives no shout of pain but stops, along with the other two, stand and turn towards him. “Unholy creatures,” he says, muttering a quick prayer he sends a lance of radiant light to strike the same undead in the chest, reducing it to a pile of ashes. Running forward he grabs his axe from the ashes of his first victim then turns quickly and cleaves the head from one of the surviving two. The remaining undead takes a swing at him, which his armor absorbs, he counters with a blow to the chest that sends the beast staggering back before collapsing. Quickly gathering his things he sets off in the direction the undead came in. Traveling through the night leads him to the ruins of an old fort tucked away in the dense forest some miles away from Cathod. The dwarf recognizes the forgotten structure as Castle Greentop, a small outpost for the armies of an age long past.