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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.

Ready_ · Fantasía
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404 Chs

Fear The Night : Loyalty

"Little ghoul… Where are you?" Bough spoke in his usual tone, giggling like a schoolgirl as he held up the terrific weight of tons of earth and stone bearing down on him, Vwoldtnir had not attempted anything fancy, and done the usual thing he always did when fighting anything, which was not something he did very often even though he was a gravelord.

He buried Bough alive, piling up stone and dirt on top of him, but the shieldmaster was not giving in, even managing to lift his shield up even as more and more weight was stacking up, groaning alongside his shield, ignoring the ghoul lord as he crawled in front of his visor once more, repeatedly erupting with his blinding light, ribs squirming, the teeth inside the throat grinding against one another.