Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead
Moulded from rot and souls, Loimos is born as an undead, as a skeleton. An undead linked to the weakest category of its kind, yet, he has something no other of the dead have. He is pure. Follow the journey of Loimos as he fulfils his duty and hunts down the living with extreme prejudice and faces off with the hypocrisy of those who live in death. In a world thriving with life, magic and heroes, he stands as the solution and its end.
Concealing Nonsense
"Don't take it to heart, Miss Rosemary, we are but chasing our best interests!" his mask twisting into a grin, Arleqkin retrieved two daggers from behind his back, throwing them with grace, simply swinging his arms and allowing the hilts to slip out of his fingers.
One, two, three, four, five… No matter how many times he threw them, they just reappeared in his hands as he stepped forward and spun around like some sort of manic dancer, the blade only struck against a scorching barrier, behind her, Odicious slapped his hands together, the callouses making for a most distinct resonance, his skinless face, eyes permanently opened staring right at the volcano witch.