She strode past shattered forms of rotten bodies strewn like discarded toys among the headstones. Her bare feet squelched in the mud. Pausing here and there she stooped down, collecting a rib here, a jaw there, she made her way toward the small hill.
At the top of the small hill stood a leafless tree. The necromancer sat propped against the trunk, blood trickling from his lips.
Crouching before the bruised form, she looked into his eyes. "I warned you."
"Yes." He coughed, a spasm of pain flashing across his face.
"The problem with your army is that it was full of rot. The corpses here will no longer feed the plants, nor even the ravens." She reached toward the necromancer's chest, grabbing hold of the silver chain around his neck. "But yours will."
The ravens perched overhead in the bare branches, cawing.
A silver medallion shaped in the empty circle of a new moon hangs suspended on a thin silver chain glows faintly under the dark sky. When worn, a suit of armor will form around the wearer made of bones. It will grant an AC of 4, and may be worn by members of any class.