I'll just put these right here

This was good; she would need at least a few moments to work her magic and a six foot Jorrik presented a fine diversion. There was something haughty in the way Caligari straightened her unrefined sash of skulls and plucked from the ground the arrow fired by the Legion of Sol. She began speaking in a foul, repulsive language that none but necromancer could speak or tolerate for long. It was full of cruel and inhuman sounds that reflected its purpose; to distort the line between life and death, reversing its trajectory into an unnatural flow. She snapped the arrow in half, dipped the sharpened tip and fletching within the pool of her own retching, and began pulling each through the snow, drawing shapes and symbols that darkened and began to smoulder a sickly green smoke. They were unnatural designs, impossible motifs that defied reality such as parallel lines that intersect only when viewed from certain angles and circles that morphed into squares without changing shape. Just looking at these perverse marks was unsettling and if that wasn’t enough to divert your attention you’d soon find your mental stability threatened. These were summoning circles and magic wards all in one, and they would distinguish and protect those within from those outside the marks.

This was potent magic and not something Caligari could ordinarily evoke in the short period of time they had before falling under attack. Fortunately she had many years to prepare in advance of this night. The sacrifices were already made, the rituals already performed and strengthened repeatedly, the necessary bodies dragged through the snow and buried throughout this hollow and the surrounding ground. All she did now was call the pieces together and trigger the sortilege.

The smoke emanating from the wards congealed into orbs that moved out in all directions across the snow as they shifted into skulls and half faces. Each skull found some mark and sank into the white blanket with a sizzle. For a few seconds there was nothing then the powder at each site began to balloon until hands clawed their way through to the surface and dragged the rest of their body free of their interment. Few of these bodies were skeltal, most still held flesh and muscle to their bones. The frozen wastelands of the north were remarkable preservation against rot and decay. These zombies were armed with various weapons and certainly varied levels of skill. Caligari could not hope to oversee an army of undead en masse, but she could manipulate individual bodies as the need arose.

The black speech of necromancy ceased and she held her arms and hands out above her like a puppeteer, a web of incandescent light running out in tendrils to the army of the dead. “I hope you weren’t planning to let the trial by combat play out. Destroy your enemies while they are divided of mind!”

OOC: She raised 15 zombies. Yeah, it's a small army, but I think technically it still counts. Happy days!