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.
Crouching low to the ground, the swordsman with a one-edged blade pointed the end of his sword at Loimos, who stood in place, surrounding by a puddle of black blood, although the undead could trace the man's movement's after the fact thanks to his residuals of life force, but his haste surpassed even his superior senses.
Disappearing from his spot once more, the skinny man in back appeared confident that his colleague would successfully deal with Loimos, only, he didn't reappear in his previous position as he did just before, his acceleration was cut off as he sank into the ground right in front of the masked cadaver.
Secretly, the skeleton had been finely controlling his corrosive blood to eat through the ground around him, forming pits just deeper enough compared to the beaten up road to catch the swordsman slipping.