Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Just a few minutes ago, they had carried out the execution of one of the leaders of the pesky resistance that defied their rule incessantly, that man in particular, Val-Dalek, Warmaster for the previous chief had been especially troublesome, and their had been high hope that his death would allow for a swift dismantlement of the rest of the resistance.

But, somehow, for some fate-defying, absurd reason, the man they had skinned alive a few moments prior and then dumped into what was considered a saline pool surrounded by a wasteland, that man who should be dead was back before them, appearing to be in an excellent state, not a single sign of any injury.

That was nonsensical, it was known since ancient times that the pulsating orb would take people to a place without anything, the bizarre sea surrounding the saline pool was even more murderous as it would dissolve anyone who stepped into it…

So where had those three, most bizarre-looking people come from? And how come, despite having such alien appearances, did the woman in the large cloak look so mundane and average in their eyes? That was simply nonsensical, and for several seconds, the group of salt people stayed still, not saying a word as many possibilities flashed through their minds, their brains desperately attempting to make sense of this situation.

The Warmaster prepared for a fight, but had his momentum destroyed as Loimos addressed him directly.

"Go and gather your people, inform them that the resistance has won" he casually said, and Val-Dalek could only bow and obey, after all, if one you perceived as a god told you that victory was in the bag, who would dare to question it? As such, the Warmaster took off running out of the room, and thus, out of the small palace.

Compared to the dwellings of a lot of rulers, this place was rather small, being more like a small manor than a castle, but throughout many years of conquest, the Undead Empire had seen all sorts of civilisations, of all sizes and shapes.

What was truly novel about this place was that it was built out of white stone, stone that was clearly rich in salt, a living that wasn't expecting it would find themselves uncontrollably crying as the salt in the air would irritate their eyes and nostrils immediately upon arrival.

Indeed, it seemed like truly everything was made out of salt in this realm, or at least, carried an ample amount of it within them…

"This… Don't let the Warmaster escape, fools! Wake up out of your stupor and kill those intruders!" amongst the group opposing them, one finally came to his senses, and his words must have carried authority as the others only took a second before moving forward to attempt to do the impossible, and kill which was already dead.

A warrior spun a thin spear, another one began to prepare to fire using a sling, and another one, a mage of sorts, began to manifest a haze of salt, which one would assume would be used in a manner similar to how Ir'Houwl would use her red sand when aiming to purely deal damage.

"Do you fools hear me?! The Warmaster is escaping and we have intruders in the execution room!" the same man from before yelled, his voice echoing through the small manor, clearly attempting to bring more people to the fight whilst he himself had gradually been stepping back as his troops instead advanced.

"Loimos, can I? Can I now? Can I murder and torture them?" Maliah did her best impression of puppy eyes whilst pointing at the unfortunate livings that did not know what they were getting themselves into.

Loimos was immune to the impressively good expression she had just manifested, and just as more warriors began to pour into the room, he gave his answer.

"Maliah, One- You can do whatever you want with them" as soon as his words fell, it was like destiny itself had struck with its gavel and sentenced everyone in the room to death.

The Death Dealer turned into a blur, and before the closest living, the one wielding the thin spear, could even comprehend that one of the intruders had vanished, his vision turned completely dark as the soles of Maliah's boot came crashing directly into his face, blasting his salt mask and head to smithereens, there was no spurting of blood and bone shrapnel sent out, it all turned into red and white miss directly on impact.

'Oh… They have brownish-red blood! I wonder what it looks like in liquid form?'

The now headless spear wielder continued to move forward for several more seconds before dropping to the ground, in that time, the assassin had already surged forward and struck three more livings, the first was kicked right in the knee, bending it backward.

The second was rapidly stabbed in each of his lungs, collapsing to the ground as the two organs were invaded by blood.

And the third was allowed an attempt to strike, and when his arms were extended forward, Maliah pulled out two blades, and sliced both of the limbs into many, tiny pieces.

With much interest she watched as the brownish-red blood flowed, it was far more viscous, grainy with visible crystals of salts accompanying the syrupy stream.

Stopping for a moment, Maliah could not help but notice that those people seemed oddly resistant to pain and suffering, she could tell the difference between distress at losing limbs and dying a slow death, and the actual, physical pain that would knock out most people.

And the livings here were mostly experiencing the former, physical pain seemed to have little effect on them, which was just a shame, watching people dying from the horrific injuries she inflicted whilst contorting in agony was one of the best parts!

Eyeing the panicking mage that was just nearby, the poor fellow was so scared that he was repeatedly failing to manifest his spells, constantly looking back up to check if Maliah had not disappeared from where she was standing.

'Let's see how resilient they are' reaching within her cloak, she pulled out two daggers that did not seem different from the rest.

Typically, Maliah only used a single set of various weapons as she just crammed everything into them, leaving no room for specialisation as she could just use a weapon that could do everything she wanted and more.

But since becoming an undead, she had gotten a few variants which effects she would rather not have always be active.

Such as these daggers, who were deeply imbued with Death's aspect of Agony, prepared for those whose screams of pain were particularly good on the ears, or those who refused to perform for her.