Waste not, want not

"Well, waste not, want not", Gizol said out loud, just to test whether his vocal chords still worked. His throat was sore and dry as if he hadn't spoken in a long, long time. He concentrated for a moment and the six skeletons all rose, animated by his power.

It took him an hour to find chests, coffins, and jars for all six to carry, and to load them with coins, gems, scrolls, wands and magical weapons. Curiously, all non-magical equipment that his group had brought had rusted beyond repair. Similarly, all cloth had pretty much rotten away, so Gizol could not cover his nakedness.

Finished with the looting, the two-and-a-half-foot gnome scratched his beard (where did that come from?) and decided to leave. Daemonic powers or not, there was nothing left in the chamber and he wasn't keen on becoming a toothpick.

Another hour took him and his new helpers to the entrance of the ancient temple/tomb. The bright sunshine was blinding and it took Gizol several moments to recover. At which point he realized that he would have to put his new powers to a test quicker than what he had anticipated.

For an orc warband had camped around the entrance. He saw several campfires with meat being roasted over them. A dozen tents surrounded them.