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.
An Offer
A skeletal arm rose from a mound of rot, soon followed by a skull and ribcage, the cavern was loud, much louder than it should be, howls and shrieks sounded throughout the large expanse of rocky tunnels and deadly drops.
They didn't appear to be responding to one another, they were all directed toward the same direction, they surrounded the area Loimos had decided to recuperate his body in, though, it wasn't like they could just waltz in and start hitting up upside the head.
His rot had spread out defensively, filling up the room and surrounding him as the cradle of miasma slowly reconstructed him.
For now, his skull, torso area and left arm were the only things that had been put back together, even now, the process was continuing.
Loimos looked into a seemingly random direction, it wasn't the cries directed at him that had convinced him to shift his position and pay attention to his surroundings.