Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Gobstroz rushed forward, ready to crush the undead even if it was the least he would ever do, he raised his stone club, a weapon that had accompanied for nearly all of his life, it had been short but so was the life of a goblin.

He didn’t aim for the skull, it was a part that could easily be moved away, the skeleton had seen him coming from afar, even if he was lesser than the chieftain in every aspect, the corpse had had all the time to predict and prepare for his next move.

The elder goblin instead aimed for the center of the fiend’s mass, aiming to snap him in half and leave him powerless.

Gobstroz stared intensely, straining his tired brain to perceive any twitch or movement, he was going to try something, he had to.

The undead had already proven to be cunning and conniving, it would be nonsensical for such a monster to do nothing in this situation.

Loimos moved, the absurdity of it all took the chieftain by surprise, he didn’t evade the blow, he simply began to walk away, right past Gobstroz without showing any regards for the goblin’s existence.

Such a show of confidence and lack of apprehension didn’t deter the green monster from striking, what stopped him in his tracks was the sound of rising water, although the splashing wasn’t nearly as normal as it should be due to its oily, dense, petrol-like consistency.

His attention was taken from Loimos to the giant of a skeleton and its congregation of corpses rushing out, the smaller cadavers throwing themselves on the incapacitated tribesmen, digging their frail fingers into their throats and faces.

Ripping and tearing everything apart without a care, stopping the instant they ceased to live and moving onto the next.

As for their leader, he had been targeted by the largest of the undead, the skeleton with the elongated skull stepped forward with incredible speed, mostly due to being so tall to begin with, it slammed its open hand right into the chieftain.

Gobstroz shielded himself with his club but was unable to block all damage and certainly not stop himself from being launched off the ground.

His back slammed painfully into the trunk of a still lively tree, the pain took root into his spine and propagated to the rest of his body, flaming to the very extremities of his limbs, he almost let loose of his club.

He forced himself away just in time to avoid having his brain splattered by a kick from the bone behemoth.

Surrounded by his brethren as they were being slaughtered, Gobstroz took in a deep breath, looked straight at the giant undead, its rib cage overflowing with rot and miasma.

The bestial roar it threw his direction filled with dread, his legs shook, but only for an instant.

"Come here! Be a good corpse and lie down for good!" Gobstroz responded with a roar of his own and began moving forward, advancing with quick steps, he was going to die today.

But he didn’t have to lose.

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Stolgob ran and ran with stop, weaving through the woods expertly, still, he was slower than normal, he was tiring faster, his muscles weren’t outputting nearly as much power as they did during the hunts.

He was rapidly weakening, he had to find a place to hide, somewhere the dead wouldn’t be able to reach him.

He reached the limits of the miniature world, the limit of the entire world in his eyes.

The grey stone bricks used to be covered in vegetation, moss and vines growing so thickly on its surface that he had never seen the grey on this side.

The deathly mist was making its approach faster and faster, its decaying capabilities growing more and more potent, it had caused the vegetation to subside, to back off from its own territory.

It had also begun to gnaw and enfeeble the walls, the rock was eroding and turning, even the inanimate wasn’t spread by its ruthless dominion, just contact with life wasn’t tolerated.

Stolgob saw an opportunity, it was meager but he saw the light of hope, his speed increased and he reached the limit in just a few moments.

The stone was cracked, splitting into pieces, small pieces peeling off, breaking off into shards and dust by a mere touch.

The prodigal goblin looked frantically for something, looking for an opening in the walls.

There was no rhyme or reason to his thought process, but the mere sight of the crumbling convinced him that there was something beyond the borders, beyond this world.

The corpses had to have come from somewhere after all, the safe haven he was dreaming off could be right behind those walls.

He searched and searched, though weakened, the wall itself was still standing strong, defiant of the abject fate the miasma wanted for it.

Stolgob found it, an opening big enough for him and Irgob to squeeze through, there was a tunnel there, it had always been there and the mist had simply revealed to his eyes.

"Irgob! Quick!" he spoke with urgency, shaking her out of her daze whilst pointing at the hole.

"We can get out of here!" he said with a smile.

Then he looked back from where they had come from.

It was pure chance, mere luck but their eyes met.

Loimos was standing right there and the second he was spotted, he stepped out of his hiding spot, his sockets still glowing with the shine of an unknown purple.

A purple so deep and strange.

Stolgob had never even seen the colour purple before, there were many things he had never experienced before, still, his very being screamed that the glow wasn’t natural, that it didn’t exist.

Yet, he could attest to its existence.

"Go ahead" Stolgob spoke sternly and took hold of something wrapped in pieces of clothing from his back.

It was a weapon of similar craftsmanship as the chieftain’s own weapon, although only in difficulty to create, although one may believe the stone club could be of the goblin’s own creation, even if that was hard to believe.

The same couldn’t be said for the axe Stolgob brandished at Loimos, the handle wasn’t crude, the axe head made of forged iron, its size clearly made for a creature with larger bodies.

Where did it come from? One might wonder, neither the weapons owner nor the one it was threatening cared for such a thing.

The goblin and undead were at a standstill, but Loimos wasn’t going to allow Irgob to wiggle her way into the tunnel.

He took a step forward and pointed at her, clacking his jaw menacingly he began to form a ball of rot in his only available hand, his other arm still unusable.

Taking this as an imminent attack, Stolgob moved forward to stop him, dancing right in Loimos’s palm.