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.
'Mmh, there are indeed marks of passage…' the lady knight had gotten off of her horse, crouching close to the dusty ground, ignoring the intense heat radiating from above, which should be cooking the woman inside of this armour, running one finger down, although the soil was not prone to this sort of tracking, she could undeniably see that a horse had passed by here, and which direction it and its rider were heading.
The patrols of the knights were not done randomly, they followed a particular circuit, each of them, and this path was where she would have passed, only, coming from the opposite way this rider had gone.