After a long miserable journey, with persistent night attacks that left little rest in the wilderness, the party arrive at a dismal place. In the middle of swampy fells, a depression contains a number of tombstones, a well, and three mausoleums laid out in the pattern of a cross.
They know immediately that this is their goal. Only they are not filled with joy at the discovery. Although they are whole and sound, they are fearful. There is no sound of wildlife. Ragged scavenger birds hover overhead. The stones themselves are of a sickly green hew, and the air is still.
As they approach, Xandros pauses to read a tombstone besides a fresh empty grave. He is disturbed to see his name etched thereon. Shaking his head, he makes a furtive gesture to ward off evil. They approach the well, perhaps drawn to it by its very infamy. Someone drops a coin down it, only to hear it plink off the wall and splash gently into some liquid below. They decide to leave it for now, and turn to investigate one of the smaller side mausoleums.
As they examine the door, they are suddenly aware of company. Around the deeper basin that surrounds the mausoleum, stand a dozen or so still figures, silhouetted against the evening sky, somehow malevolent in their silence. As one, they charge, and their stench identifies them as corrupt undead. The party fights back as best they can, some being paralysed by filthy claw wounds, until the priest is able to turn those that were not already hacked down. The party is now wounded and depleted of magic, so the decision is made to retire from this place, as far as they can get before nightfall, to rest.