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.
No Other Choice
"Good to see you doing well kids, things are a bit hectic right now…" Ilte approached the two siblings, a sanguine wound left right across her face, making a perfectly straight line through the left eye.
"That woman… She can't be human…" Tarq remarked aloud, bleeding from his chest instead, the man breathing slowly and carefully as bones had been nearly completely cleaved, moving them too much might just finish the job.
These two had been lucky and could thank everything possible for their survival, most of their fellows who had intervened had not been so lucky, either killed in absurdly gruesome manners, methods which could only be brought into existence if the enemy willed it specifically, or perhaps even worse, many were also maimed, rendering them incapable of fighting or escaping.