It seems the height of pagan vanity to drag your conscripts to their death along with you, but as I integrated into their presence, I began to observe the reasons. I had always wondered why the ancient priests of the dragon cult insisted that their followers be buried with them. The eyes seem to be key to their intent, and I will confess to more than one dream haunted by the glowing pinpoints in the darkness. Hostility in any creature is easily read, but in these most peculiar of the living dead, with such variations in gait and speed, what amounts to a hostile charge in one may simply be casual movement in another. In time, I learned more of their intentions towards me from their general movements and tones rather than specific words. I'll never know whether there was some sort of agreement communicated among them, for the only utterances they make seem to be in that heathen tongue that I can't even pronounce, much less transcribe. Though more than capable of fending them off (a combination of fire and turning spells are generally sufficient), I admit that I tired of having to be ever vigilant in their presence. Well, 'accept' isn't really the proper word, but they seemed to have decided that I posed no threat to them and gradually ceased their attacks. T wasn't until my seventh month with the creatures that they seemed to accept me.
