Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Chapter 463 Humble Beginnings

The sun barely rose over the horizon, casting its sickly light over the warmongering continent, at the same time, knights garbed in white emerged from their hiding spots, crawling upon their bellies, armed with spears, swords, bows and arrows, they hid like insects in the tall grass.

Beyond the dark yellow shores, the flatlands, the golden fields of wheat and the small woods, there were rather wide spans of plains that were not quite flat enough to properly cultivate, they were covered in blades of grass nearly as tall as a man, with great trees growing haphazardly, roots spreading far and wide all around the base of their trunks, the wildlands of the south where the famed ogres lived in their natural habitat.

Today, the knights were overlooking a congress of a dozen undead rank and file headed by a knight that did not seem to be one of the Loimoisian variety, indeed, this undead's armour was more slender, it's black colouration making it appear as though they were covered in soot, missing the emblematic cage-like visor in favour of a more simple design, only sporting small slits that could easily go unnoticed.

Most importantly, this corpse carried a thin sword, so long that it could easily rival the length of a spear, the small group of southerners overlooking the undeads felt apprehensive, they did not know of this caste of knights, they did not have much time to observe however, in just a few minutes, the concealment that permeated their form would run out, and when it did, all of those undeads would instantly become aware of them.

There was no time to waste, slowly rising up, spears left on the ground as all took their bows in hand, pulling upon the string little by little, trying to avoid making even the slightest of noises.

Someone's white cloak brushed up against some grass rather loudly, all of the livings freezing in place instantly, one of the undead soldiers turning their head toward the source, the few dozen of rank and file all carried spears and a shield, forming a harmonious force that moved through the tall grasses in silence.

Only broken when the alerted soldier spoke in death tongue, pointing exactly at where the livings were hiding.

Not hesitating any further, the small group of knights stood up completely, stretching all bowstrings to the limit, letting loose of their arrows, unfortunately, unlike their spears and blades, the ironheads of their projectiles were not equipped with lively flames gifted by the pyromancers.

The volley was not of great size, as less than ten livings were hidden amongst the greenery, arrows, planting against the round shields of dead wood, deflected with a movement of the sword, the undead knight, grasping his blade right up against the guard, swung right at the livings, sending a smouldering slash of Loimosfire through the air, the flames keeping their original shape right up until it made contact with something, then exploding into a dark blast.

Contrary to before, the regular undead would require more than having their head crushed to be defeated, so, for one as mighty as the hound the livings were watching move through the tall grass, the sort of punishment it could take would be even above that.

Unfortunately, even if they knew that the enemy was resilient, they did not know the specifics, armed with the typical weaponry of the south and a whole lot of bravery, the knights moved away their safe spot and quietly approached the creature, making good use of the last few minutes of concealment they were benefiting from to escape its keen, animal senses, as well as a hefty amount of filth they had covered themselves with to not be smelled.

But their lack of finer knowledge gave them away much sooner than anticipated, the hound might not be capable of sensing their life force right now, but all else was working perfectly well, and as a beast, whose instincts and senses were well above that of soldiers or knights, thus possessed stronger undead synesthesia, meaning that any sound, any smells that reached it also gave insight into the appearance of what smelled, of what was making noise.

And apart from ogres, nothing else but the livings were shaped liked humans, its ears shot up instantly, and without hesitation, the pale hound of Loimos went on the offensive, moving with ferocious haste into a wide arc around the knights, evading arrows from the soldiers without meaning to, opened its maw...

...And roared.

A replication of Gravelord Vespertillo's signature move, yet taught upon this beast by Loimos.

Not quite as powerful as that of either of the greater undeads as the canine did not benefit from having access to the roars of thousands, upon thousands of different roars to meld together alongside a blinding strength, but as a refined member of the vanguard, and being the one technique this hound had picked to master, it was enough to deafen and push to the ground all nearby knights, even the soldiers, who were not even in the cone of the sound-based attack, were sent reeling.

"Retreat!" one shouted to no effect, not even hearing himself, the knight in front of his eyes picked up in between the vile teeth of the creature, shaken like a ragdoll and thrown to the ground.

It charged again.