The Knight swings...Flail: [1d20+1]=4+1=5
and misses. You know, I'm starting to think this is retribution for me playing a paladin.

Words from the deceased spirit to refresh your memory for each step over the threshold of the crypt is a step into the unknown though forwarded of some of the dangers. The doors open to an arched room, perhaps thirty feet wide and twice that long. Pillars with ghoulish bas-relief figures, elongated and alien form an aisle, at the bottom of which a statue of bronze holds high a radiant shield, the light from which dazzles with a brilliance that actually inspires hope in an otherwise dark and morbid place. Beyond the statue some stairs descend. A rot and decay of ancient bones and restless souls permeates the atmosphere. You are not alone. Shadows move in the room corners, disturbed by your egress and intrusion, awakening to the grinding portal opening. You each stare in awe at the crypt then bravely enter, having come thus far, not to turn back now."Magyar Varghoulis, Lord Myrmidon of Nergal's Chosen. Champion of the Black Legion, he was slain at the cost of many valiant hearts, whose blood poured out in earnest sacrifice mortars the very tomb stones in place. As Nergal awakens, so too his devotees. To wage havoc among the living and the dead. Varghoulis rests beyond with the most trusted of his host."
"This one is yours then."The Knight winks at Vann Hector. "I'll get the next one."