Voddick cleaned his sword and frowned. “It that a nail in the chest of that unliving corpse we just put down?”
Gollaon looked from where his was cleaning the wound to his forearm. “I think you are right.”
“Bugger,” said Voddick, pulling a dagger from his belt. He stepped over to the corpse, knelt down and dug the nail out of the body with his dagger.
“Messy work,” commented his friend.
“Some of the dead brought back with nails like this do not stay dead. Lost two members of a patrol to a nailed corpse once. Not again.”
“I am glad you recognized that. I have not encountered such before.”
These nails are at least as long as a grown man’s hand and the metal used to make them is often pitted and scarred. They seem heavier than they should be and they are as cold as ice when inactive and as warm as blood when they have been prepared. Made from the metal of weapons that had been used to kill, the fires used to forge the nail must be stoked with bones and the finished nail quenched in fresh blood.