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.
Many of the livings were forced to switch from their trusty bows to their blades carved from the bones of great drylurkers, arms they were not quite as familiar with, but wielded with powerful intent nonetheless, clashing against the more refined weapons of the nightbirds, sharp blades, daggers which point was treacherously piercing and other tools of assassination that one would not see in the hands of another caste.
Cribler himself retrieved two thin, bone blades, the irony of swinging such things at undeads not lost on him, but he did not have time to laugh about it, and anyways, nearly all of their equipment was made from the bones of their preys, arrows and bows and even their main construction material was all nothing but remains of what they had hunted down.