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.
"Is something the matter, lieutenant?" approaching silently, Tilmiel emerged from a dark corner, which should be much too small to accommodate for her, but still did without issues, alongside her, many more nightbirds also appeared from all around, some simply walking in, others landing from unknown heights without as much as a single sound.
"Nothing important" responded Horhir, having sensed the usage of famine by his fellow, the utilisation of aspects of the apocalypse was never very discreet, and judging by how it came undone, Ourlst had run into another problem, not that Horhir could say anything about this, he doubted whatever his fellow was dealing was worse than his own shortcomings, not one, but two regions under his jurisdiction were in a stalemate as he could not find the livings, of all things…