Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

During the war against the undead, the great desert where Pezerx now stand was a territory fully controlled by the repugnant corpses, many explorers and adventurers, in search of riches are sorely reminded of this fact when they uncover one and attempt to break inside, only to be met by a swarm of dried corpses and skeletons, pouring out of the ruins like a tidal wave, slaughtering them all, taking them apart and dragging their bodies through the sand, back inside.

The ruins are sealed once more, and the desert, as if well aware of the horrors dwelling inside, covers it once more, burying the hateful dead once more, until someone else made the dire mistake and it all repeated.

Thankfully, after this happening dozens of times, people have learned their lessons, especially when supposedly prepared parties were wiped out just as easily, the undead of the desert seemingly unbeatable, reforming even after being shattered to dust, only life can force the restless cadavers to their rightful graves.

Still, faced with the knowledge of the age of those tombs, the death hunters preferred to focus on burying those places deeper and harder, encasing them with sturdy rocks to prevent all thinking that treasures inside could be pillaged without difficulty.

Despite nameless to history, the undeads that ruled the desert under the king of the dead's name were tough opponents, in the environment of the desert, which they were said to have control over, the brave warriors of life could only crumble and burn, swarmed and assaulted by countless of the undead filth.

However, I wager that the death hunters could exterminate them all with ease, indeed, I have discovered that the rulers of the desert were all defeated by Maiele Liameilos, The Elven Light, or at least, a great majority of them.

The heroine was naturally immune to the scorching heat the desert lords could conjure, without that, they couldn't amount to much.

As such, I call for a grand operation to permanently purge the old ruins, easing ourselves of a problem that is only waiting to blow up.

-Excerpt of 'Call To Arms' by Bethome Meleme.

"Now I am certain, the number of corpses has definitely increased!" a big, swarthy man rubbed his forehead, he looked intensely at the discoloured skeleton, whose bones had taken up on a shade similar to the sand, which had still filled its skull as the man brought down his hammer down on it.

Making certain that it wasn't going to suddenly reform itself and attack him, he looked over at the rest of his party, countless undeads littering the ground, all needing much more force than usual to take down completely, it was just like for the undeads of the ruins.

The corpses that arose and roamed the desert were usually much weaker, and less numerous.

"They are smarter as well, the random wanderers don't usually carry weapons or remnants of armour, some of them clearly scavenged or killed people for their equipment" another man commented, having raised his sleeve to tend to a nasty wound left on his forearm.

Not left by a sword, but by the bite of an undead still covered in dried skin, the risk of infection was concerning, so he didn't wait any longer than necessary to clean the wound and spill some alcohol on it.

The men present around all had dark skin, a must to not get fried by the sun in Pezerx, wearing ample clothing shielding their bodies and allowing for air to refresh them, they were all tired, having grossly underestimated the undeads.

"The client said that there weren't nearly as many as that, those fuckers were waiting in the sand as well!

Husks laying traps and forming groups is concerning, is it the work of a necromancer?" one that had had the displeasure and getting skewered by a weathered spear right in the side of his stomach, laying on his other side as someone applied the little healing magic they knew over to him, trying to get the sand that had gotten into the injury when the man had been sent rolling to the ground.

Singularly, they were better than the corpses in nearly all departments that wasn't stamina and the likes, but the second they had been divided and surrounded by more than one, problems arose, they were lucky that only a few of the undeads had gotten they hands on weapons, otherwise they wouldn't have escaped this fight with just wounds.

"Alright, you can thank the stars, the spear didn't damage any organs, and no, those undeads are not controlled by a necromancer, I sense no traces of magic being casted on them, those are all natural undeads" the designated mage of the group spoke up, scratching his chin in thought, he couldn't see any reason as to why the amount of undeads would suddenly start increasing, as well as their quality.

Usually, the risen dead would only wander around aimlessly, the fact that this was changing would be noticed very quickly.

"With some luck, we could get a bonus for reporting this first-" the one with the injured arm thought of extra money when he noticed the youngest, and most agile, member of their group fall backward after climbing up on a hill, a knife stuck in his throat, his eyes wide open as he stared back at his silent party members.

With many of them injured, and all of them absolutely spent after having to fight for much longer than expected under the twin suns, they could only look up as a shadow appeared over their downed ally, the figure obstructing one of the suns, until others joined its sides, completely casting the adventurers in shadows.

A purplish mist spread, incredibly close to the ground, gathering around the destroyed undeads and seeping into their broken bodies, infusing just a speck of death force was enough for them to reform, sending panic throughout the group of living, those that had their movements restricted were thrown in a struggle as the reawakened corpses lunged at them without hesitation.

'Shit!' those that could run, did so, abandoning their wounded companions.