The immense gate opened nearly without a sound, they had been expecting to be struck by a wave of dust, ancient air trapped beneath the walls for centuries, but there was none of it, come to think of it, it was already weird that they could breath so well at such a depth under the earth.
The inside suddenly lit up with blue flames, how nice of the owner to grant them sight himself, when he would benefit from the pitch blackness, not at all a worrying sign for what was to come, nothing but typical theatrics.
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.
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.