Act I-I: The Village of Mayfield

Taking to the sky, Prusx can see multiple shambling corpses given foul unlike. Multiple village homes are under siege as windows are burst through and doors are slammed against.
Flying closer to the graveyard, a robbed figure stands amid a circle drawn in what looks to be blood. Four candles sit in smaller circles within the main on. The robbed figure appears to be reading aloud from a book that floats before him. Prusx watches as a grave bursts open - dirt flying all over! A skeleton, its joints held together by tainted sorcery, wanders off to the village to wreak further havok.

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As Leif rushes out onto the street, he can see. That roughly 12 undead are nearby the inn alone! Old Peculiar, an old sword in hand, is doing his best to fend off the partially decaying corpse of who he calls "Jarvey.". Father Braeburn carries no weapon, but he is doing his damndest to call upon the aid of his god to assist Peculiar and to turn any other zombies that draw near. Looking around, the slumped mounds of three other zombies are strewn about the dirt road; a pile or two of ash are among them as well.
Seeing the Halfling come out, Old Peculiar strains his neck back to him and shouts: "Me and the Father have this! Get your friends and go take care of the source before we're completely overwhelmed!"

As the group charges their way towards the graveyard, zombies swarm and batter homes left and right. Talyn and G'nark, slinging their minor spells, deal a significant amount of damage to the horde as dolorous bell tolls and frosty touches bring down a total of 15 zombies along the way!
Reaching the edge of the source of undead rising, everyone can see over the low hedge fencing. A robed figure stands in a red circle, candles at four points within it. A tome floats before him as he chants unceasingly, taking no notice of the party as they arrive. His words are strange, and on top of that, it sounds as if two are speaking at once from his mouth: one tired and deep, the other rasp and like an eerie whisper.
Prusx casts her spell that surrounds his footing with thick vines and sharp thorns. At this, the chant ceases and is replaced with a horrible fit of laughter.
"Hahahahahahaaaaa! So, you are the ones who put an end to that horrible farce earlier this day?"
He looks over to everyone, his eyes cloudy and cold; a tinge of blue is also evident. A terrible grin crawls across his face.
"Ahhh, this has truly been a botched effort because of that snot nosed farm brat! I had to hide my 'puppet' to ensure my plan would at least happen to some extent. Alas, I had to leave my athame under that mattress, which I'm sure you lot must have found. Now, if one of you would kindly return it to me, I promise to make your shift to undeath quick and painless. "