Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

As was customary, when someone yelled that it was time to run, everyone followed suit, except for the human dressed up in a blue, clerical robe, she rose one hand up, rising up a transparent, luminous wall of holy energy to block the path of the unleashed swarm.

It was rather effective, whilst the living armours were just inconvenienced by it just by any other wall, the other monsters garbed in protective suits, which were undeads much like Slotriig, were forced to keep their distance and unable to damage it, the holy warded them off.

There was no need to specify how disappointed Pierre-Ornée and Bough were when they saw the group of five running out of the dungeon as though they had seen a ghost.

They had been expecting the way to open upon a secret chamber, which had been the case, they just hadn’t thought about the fact that there could be enemies waiting for them, the way had been opened upon a much larger portion of the dungeon, the parts previously available barely amount to even ten percent of the whole thing.

"Let me tell you, the export of metal is going to increase when the moths are inevitably attracted the new shiny stuff uncovered" the halbardier shook his head, he could already imagine himself staying in this horrifically empty and uneventful city.

"Surely there are criminals and bandits to mur- I mean, apprehend with excessive, but nonetheless righteous force" Bough covered his mouth with his hand like a little young lady would, there was no need to specify why everyone in a fifty meter radius felt like their spines were being slurped up.

"I swear B-"

Both of them cranked their necks up toward the entrance of the dungeon, both expecting something other than an adventurer to come crawling out for a brief instant.

"Audit really was messing around, the best outcome he mused over has no chance of happening" Pierre-Ornée could definitely sense something further into the guts of this dungeon, the simple fact that he could feel it meant death for anyone weaker than he and Bough.

It didn’t seem like an insurmountable challenge for him, but that was only based on that thing’s presence, there was no telling what it really was.

_____________

"Oops, I think I leaked something" Faraday waved his hand, him, Slotriig and Loimos had distinctly felt the opening of the way, even from their position in the deepest portion.

None of them had been sparring however, the owner of the dungeon deemed that it was no use for Loimos to continue like this, although he could still progress, Faraday had a different conception of time to Loimos, the skeleton of rot could easily spend any amount of time doing the same thing over and over, both Faraday and Slotriig, not so much.

"It is great, I have no doubts that those pesky explorers will want to venture deeper now, go kill them Loimos, it will certainly boost the speed of your improvements" the robed skeleton shooed him away up to the entrance of the throne room.

"You too Slotriig, even if you can maintain your death force, it won’t hurt to replenish it the better way, by plucking some lives" he stopped, unable to step outside of this room.

The seal imprisoning him may have weakened, it still fulfilled its primary function, trapping him everlastingly.

Loimos didn’t bother to converse with him, but he already had an idea to get rid of said seal, and the arrival of living flesh was the necessary ingredient needed for it.

"So, Loimos, we haven’t spoken much despite all of our interactions, what did you use to do before, you know, being dead?" the giant-sized mass of steel attempted to make conversation.

"Nothing" Loimos graced him with an answer, walking up to some of the wandering undeads, each encased in their suits of armours and parading around enormous weapons.

It seemed like Faraday had a preference for his minions, not much variety, just a bunch of pure masses of defence and hard hitting weapons, no speed, no flexibility and no ranged combatants.

This could be exploited, the adventurers would quickly be falling into routine, only being mildly attentive, thus susceptible to surprise attacks from a swifter undead, manifesting a large amount of rot, he began implementing his own touch to the vertigo-inducing hallways.

"Brace yourself Loimos, the moment it spreads out that there are undeads in this dungeon, the death hunters will surely come flocking in, if they are still a thing, do you know if they are?" Slotriig wanted to give advice, but quickly realised that his words may be outdated, him and Faraday had been locked away for a while, definitely enough time for kingdoms and dynasties to end, be replaced, multiple times over.

"I do not know" Loimos had already blasted himself into the caves before any death hunter had shown their faces before him.

"What about the country we are in?"

"Tamaris" that Loimos had heard during his prowls.

The people of this kingdom were rather big on gossip, Loimos had been made aware of quite a lot of things without fishing for it, the name of the king and his closest aides, a few personalities and even rumours of conflicts.

Putting aside the whole skeleton thing, he probably could hold a conversation with the first random guy that wandered in and appear just as informed as anyone else.

To do anything like that though, he would first need a good disguise, and also not speak with his actual voice, it wasn’t a thing just yet, but he had the exact voice one should expect from an undead, his words just oozed death and decay.

So much so that even Slotriig felt it distinctively.