Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Immediately, the five explorers’s faces turned grave as something was off, one would be expecting a singular entity sealed at the end, the metal chrome skeleton dressed in robes of the same quality as his bones made for a good candidate for that, sitting on his throne as though expecting visitors.

The problem were the other two flanking him by his sides, to the right of the one presumed to be the sealed battle mage, Faraday, stood a much larger being in armour, one that hadn’t been mentioned amongst the writings they had discovered back then, despite the fact that Slotriig had been remaining to his master’s side ever since then.

The stalwart undead hadn’t been brought here to be sealed with Faraday after, he had come himself and stood guard after the undead king was himself sealed, which had taken place not long after Faraday’s.

To the left, standing even more motionlessly than two immobile skeletons, someone that they may have mistaken for a death hunter were it not from the toxic black blood seeping from the two, minuscule eye holes of the once pristine white mask.

The white attire had been stained with the ever so dark blood as a whole, appearing like it had been left to the element of a forsaken oubliette for years, but the valiant hunters of the dead had disappeared not so long ago.

Loimos, once again, despite being the weakest in the room, managed to be the creepiest one by far, but all of the attention nonetheless went to Faraday, he rose one hand up, his ancient presence captivating the sight of the five adventurers thoroughly.

’This is bad…’ shared by all of the members of this little cohort, it was rather obvious that not only was their target accompanied by worrying subalterns, he himself didn’t appear very weakened.

Pity that they had arrived here after Loimos, or even just a bit earlier.

Using the plentiful corpses he and Slotriig gathered outside, he had used his primeval rot in conjunction with the harvested material to produce beautifully dense death miasma, placing some generators near the edges of the seal to weaken it over time, he had also used some to recover some of Faraday’s death force, his strength.

With the old and weak seal slowly being eroded by Loimos’s pure miasma, and its captive regaining his former powers, this prison was deemed to soon crumble, Quideos Audit’s prediction seemed nigh, were Faraday and his troops unleashed upon the outside, no one would be able to even begin to estimate the damages that would ensue.

"Welcome visitors!" Faraday had always wanted to say that, but he had been left with no challengers ever since then.

The last thing he had the occasion of killing was an actual deity, albeit a lowly and rather idiotic one, but a godly figure still, his undead self was itching to reap life once more, even if lesser in quality.

"I am Faraday, the star of this dungeon, but not of the show" as he delightfully spoke to the adventurers, who were already considered turning tails, Slotriig suddenly moved, a veritable blur that they only noticed after he had already acted.

Picking Loimos up and chucking him like a cannonball at one of the members of the team, tackling Iritim right out of the room, the doors shutting themselves with a slam right after.

"Now" clapping his metallic hands, Slotriig moved back to a wall of the room, planting his sword into the ground, resting both hands on its pommel.

"Come" he ushered them closer, standing up from his throne and summoning forth a suspiciously, non-shiny metal staff, which looked more like a beaten up rod than a mage accessory.

"I haven’t gotten the occasion to put to the test all of that lightning I have absorbed" he proclaimed to no one in particular, slamming his feet down on the floor, the impact spreading throughout the room, trembling, it soon spread beyond the walls and onto the rock walls of the caverns behind, collapse sounded all around.

And he appeared right in front of the four with a flash.

Iritim grunted as she emitted a wave of holy energy from the center of her body, pushing Loimos away, catching himself by sticking to the ground with blood.

Swiftly pouncing right back on, trying to grab onto her face right on, his death infused body pushing against the life produced by the necklace with much less difficulty that the priestess would have liked.

His hand threatened to tear a chunk out of her visage, priests and clerics were generally on the backline after, similar to mages in that regards

Although, Iritim had held such a position in her group, Loimos, who had been observing them from beyond the rot their entire travel there hadn’t missed some key details, such as the fact that the rest of her group didn’t seem to be keen on protecting her, or the way she had of carrying herself, it was subtle, but since it wasn’t perfect, the undead had noticed.

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He begun this confrontation without using his sword to get a good idea of just what she could do, even had he planned on evading her, he wasn’t quick enough and was swung right above the priestess’s head, with minimal energy reinforcement too, those robes were ample not just for show, but to conceal as well.

Instead of crashing against the hard ground, Loimos harmlessly splashed into blood and rot, twisting his wrist around, he grabbed onto her arm as well and produced toxic blood point blank, eating right through her sleeve before pried herself away from him and made some distance, beginning to recite a prayer with frightening speed without sacrificing any spelling.

Something about enclosing, and just as described, a small, sphere-shaped barrier formed around Loimos, manifested from holy energy, it should be extra effective against the undead.

Loimos filled in entirely with petrol-like blood, soon punching right through without showing signs of being affected negatively by the holy.

’Just my rotten luck! An undead unaffected by holy energy!’ she had heard of this possibility but had never actually encountered such an event, Iritim couldn’t rely on the simple fact that her energy was like poison to him, meaning that her non-offensive prayers and sacred gestures were utterly useless.