Ah, as I reach into the first alcove of this musty old crypt, what do I stumble upon? A twisted, contorted vortex giving rise to a horde of mindless undead protectors. How quaint.
Behold, skeletons and zombies emerge from the shadows, eager to defend their resting place. Rusted armor adorns the former, while the latter shambles along in decaying clothing. I suppose I should be flattered - they've gone through all this trouble just for little ol' me.
Let's see what we're working with here: three skeletons, each armed with a shortsword, and two zombies, both prepared to slam their stinking bodies into mine. I glance at my own ensemble - chain mail armor and a battleaxe. At least I'm dressed for the occasion.
As I have this delightful darkvision, I can see these repugnant creatures quite clearly in the darkness. They don't seem to be blessed with such abilities themselves, so they shall be at a disadvantage from the get-go.
The combat begins, and I swing my battleaxe with finesse, striking the third skeleton warrior and dealing four points of damage. Unfortunately, the first zombie manages to land a blow as well, leaving me with a measly 11 hit points remaining. Drat!
And just like that, I'm dead. How utterly disappointing. But wait - what's this? A mysterious divine healing by an unknown and unnamed dark god? Well, isn't that just dandy. Back to the land of the living I go.
The combat resumes, and I strike again, dealing a dozen points of damage to the second zombie. However, my victory is short-lived as the first zombie lands another blow, leaving me with no hit points whatsoever. It seems that even dark gods have their limits.
Alas, it appears that I've been defeated and perished in this encounter with the undead creatures. What a shame. I suppose there's only one thing left to do: