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.
Heavy Rain
"Their ring of blight has progressed a fair bit, huh?" spoke a man, voice muffled by thick iron.
"Indeed, I wonder… If it will climb up on the barrier, it is pretty high up near the shore…" similarly muffled, a woman responded, turning her gaze toward a third person sitting nearby, staring at the horizon.
"Much on your mind, Isilt?" Ilte poked the back of her trainee's helm.
The youth did not remove his eyes from the scenery, the job of those on the edge of the main camp was to look out for any approaching enemy, in the few days since the two gates had been breached and a gaping hole was left in the wall nearby, none even the slightest of shadows had appeared, all was calm, all was lull, all was heavy, all was dreadful.