"A true undead has no need for sustenance, no need for rest, no need for fear, a pure undead needs nothing"
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Loimos emerged into a field, paying no heed to his cracked skull, it would mend itself anyways.
In his haste, he went and retrieved a few more weapons that he had kept hidden away, his steps were nothing short of perfectly normal, his rate of movement decreased to a mere walk as he made his way toward a small group that had most certainly broken off from the larger mob.
The righteous deliverers of the unrefined rumble of the lowly people had broken into multiple pieces, small cliques had formed to cover more ground.
Small only in comparison to their total numbers however, there were still nine people gathered, they seemed to be debating the optics of searching this particular field, it was one filled with pumpkins after all.
It was a curious thing that they grew wheat and pumpkins during the same period, however, no one here was going to question it.
This was the norm for the locals and Loimos had no reason to wonder about such a thing, as he entered within their range of sight, he hid the weapon he was carrying behind his back and began taking a much more human disposition.
Gone were the oddly efficient steps, he acted as though the small differences in soil consistency and dirt mounds were actually surprising him as he walked in the dark.
A small man noticed him first and he waved his arm to make himself more noticeable, they could discern his shape but certainly not the more minute details of his appearance.
Were he able to talk, he probably would have said something too.
His acting was already well enough to fool those unwashed peasants, they didn’t take him for a threat at all and began calling out to him.
If he was accurate enough, blood would fill their throats and they would never be able to do more than gargle a bit.
Dealing with small, isolated groups was much more efficient than trying to go up against the whole mob.
He felt the death force within growing deeper as his prey’s life force dissipated into the air.
Loimos would also have to do something about all of the plantations, but doing so without revealing his undeath wasn’t within his reach at the moment.
He didn’t want specialists of the undead hunt to come for him just yet, that would definitely end up in less living dead by the end of it than otherwise.
The skeleton moved away from the corpses and soon stepped onto a wide dirt path, the main road still bore the markings of the regular passage of carriages and caravans, even though the influx had recently dropped severely.
The sound of barking reached Loimos, he was certain that he had gotten rid of all the stray dogs, and also of all the ones domesticated by people, it had been a necessity since their keen sense of smell wasn’t fooled by Loimos restricting his pungent fragrance of decay.
They had most probably been brought from within the city walls, and judging by the fact that they were rushing right toward him in spite of the darkness shrouding him, they were locked in on him.
They must have been given his scent, he had most likely lost a bit of his mask when was shot right in the skull.
He could easily beat them in a battle of stamina, and may even be able to match their speed if he decided to move like when he did back in the crawlspace of the dungeon, like a mad beast.
Though he doubted that his overall swiftness would be enough to prevent them from catching up.
Those hounds were rushing toward him without a shred of fear, they must have left their owner in the dust, he was simply going to take them out right here, if they could track his trail, they would be a problem he would have no choice but deal with anyways.