A Wight carry on

Once everyone is ready, the beefy Volkon and Bastien drag back the piled up furniture. They try to be quiet but it's an impossible ambition.

With the heavily armoured War-priest on one side and the seemingly oiled up Barbarian on the other, Captain Dunn pulls open the double doors.

...

There's a moment when the eight chalk-faced, undead Wights standing there, lock eyes with the adventurers over the space of the few feet between them.
Both groups knew what to expect. Unable to break through the blocked door, the creepily quiet and supernaturally patient undead, simply awaited the adventurers return and the adventurers, having encountered the Wights previously, knew they'd probably still be there.
The moment seems to stretch out until suddenly, an arrow flys from Nitendae's bow and hits the closest Wight dead between the eyes...
Without their rune-stitched leaders though, these recently risen Wights, though ferocious, fail to pierce Bastien's plate-mail armour with their claw-like fingernails or manage to slip under Volkon's great-sword defence.
The half-elf Nitendae allows himself a tight-lipped smile, as he picks off the undead, one by one, from the safety offered by his two human friends.
He's glad they won't have to pursue them back through the fortified mansion. Undead care nothing for self preservation or even their own existence and generally attack until either they're destroyed or you're dead.