Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

A gurgly, rupturing roar washed over Quideos, blasting his long robes and hair back as suspiciously coloured, mud-like saliva struck him on his forehead, he had a perfect view down the oesophagus and of the scenery behind since it was full of hole and tears.

"Oh please, can’t you see that I am giving a grandiose speech to the strangers you turned into mush a second ago? Ah, if only I had bothered listening to their cries for help as I attempted to inspire them to ignite their heart and soul to protect what is right" he calmly shut the two-legged beast’s maw.

Quideos was currently standing dangerously close to one of the many werebeasts said to inhabit this frozen region, this one was already dead however.

Most of its fur had either fallen or turned disgustingly warped, both of its ears had been seemingly ripped off, its tongue had already putrefied away, even its tail had gone entirely missing.

To the point that the prophet could hardly tell what it had used to be, but not that it was of much importance.

"The blight from outer tomb really has reached so far already, they won’t be able to ignore my warnings when all of their graveyards become the spawning grounds of countless undeads!"

He swung his arms around as he kept on speaking to a reanimated cadaver of a beast that never could have understood him even in life.

It swung both of its jagged claws, coated with the blood and gory bits of the poor men that had chosen to follow Quideos, not leaving even a dent on the frail-looking man’s clothes, not even budging him from his spot.

"Oh! Now you’ve done it, here I am, speaking my mind to you and you just try to spill my guts out into the open? In such weather? You have no manners, even for a mindless and soulless corpse only animated by your predatory desire to kill!" he slapped its paws away as if it was a child trying to touch a recently baked cake.

He pointed his index finger at the beast’s forehead, a bright line of energy suddenly went right through the undead creature, eradicating any proof of its existence in an instant.

"Bad!" Quideos turned on his heels, walking right back toward the cliff and promptly jumping off of it head first.

And here it was, it was a shame that they had all been converted to ground meat just moments ago, otherwise they could have all had a great moment of discussion and bonding whilst climbing down.

Not interested in doing this by himself, the prophet took the quicker way down, landing softly on the ground despite the height, swinging his arm at an innocuous pile of snow, he blew it away, revealing a carved door into the cliff side.

Exactly where his vision had told him it would be, right before him should lay the mausoleum to a hero of the past, though, Quideos hadn’t been made privy to the who it was that was left to rest in each of the tombs he had seen in his mind.

So naturally, he busted his way in to find out.

"Ah sweet" he exclaimed in a low tone, rubbing his chin with a smile as he came across carved out writings on the wall.

He hummed a small song as he read through the ancient scriptures, Quideos was high in spirit since the language it was written in was one that preceded the lifting of the language barriers on this continent.

Back when the gods were still involved in earthly matters.

His face soon dropped as the name of the hero turned out to be one he didn’t know, the prophet was researching for three distinct heroes, the title of hero, whether granted by the system, the people or both didn’t mean that they would be very useful.

There were lots of heroes, but few left a mark, and only three truly seemed deserving of high praise.

He had seen revelations concerning those three multiple times, if any heroes could fight back the impending dark plague, it would be them.

Thanatok Ynigós, The First Death Hunter.

Maiele Liameilos, The Elven Light

And of course, the one whose name was left forgotten by history, the one whose existence seemed to only be known by Quideos Audit at the moment:

Sonnenträger.

Whoever the man buried here was, he was neither of them, still, perhaps he could still be useful.

The prophet moved deeper into the tomb, manifesting a bright orb to illuminate his way as he soon found himself before the stone coffin covered in engravings depicting some sort of werebeast.

"A bear?" he tilted his head, not certain as the engravings were old and of relatively bad quality to begin with.

In any case, he straightened his back completely and put on his serious expression, bringing his palms together, the line formed in between them being horizontal.

"Under the star of the first, below the gaze of duty, underneath the foot of retribution"

He began softly reciting some sort of prayer.

"I ask for you to fulfil your duty, I demand you see your destiny through"

"Come and prove your worth" he separated his palms and pointed up with both his index and middle finger.

Nothing happened.

"Now that’s curious" he unceremoniously kicked the lid of the coffin, finding it utterly devoid of its occupant.

Nearly as soon as he did so, the prophet ducked down, avoiding a swift shadow.

"To think the blight even managed to reach so far already, you must have really been a fraud of a hero, whatever your name was!" Quideos talked down to the dry husk of the hero, whilst lacking an ego, this undead clearly had a mind and soul unlike the werebeast from before, it had potential to quickly grow into a problem.

The forgotten hero was still wearing his armour, and from the way his hands shifted from looking like bear claws to human hands, he also still had access to his abilities.

"No matter, you’re just a third-rate hero anyways, probably just a glorified adventurer or hunter, I’ll show you your terrible truth"