Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

"The Lady is pissed off for sure, if we can’t catch that runaway monster quickly, she’ll start mincing us" two guards were walking near a main room, still filled to the brim with the rowdy clients, it would probably be preferable to evacuate to avoid one of them being injured or worse, however, the goods furnished here were just too good to be undermined by even a bloodbath.

Also, they were all well aware of Lady Syklon’s temperament, it was best to just go along at all times, preferably not have any sort of eye contact, unless you worked for her directly, it was best to just act as if she wasn’t there.

Although it was complicated since she was just too adorable, even if everyone knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to chop you up into little pieces.

The guard that had spoken had some sort of rock-like scales spread out on his forehead, giving him a grave expression at all time, he was doing his utmost to fulfil the order given, although his partner wasn’t nearly as invested, looking dreamy and distant.

"Well, she is just even more beautiful when she gets mad…" he said, leading the other guard to stop right in his tracks.

"You idiotic twig! The Lady can hear almost everything in this manor, your comments might get a pass usually because you can restrain yourself when she is around, but that might not work, she had that guy’s arms put on the wrong spots for the gods sake!" his fellow guard, who was certainly on the leaner side of things shrugged his shoulders.

"She’s not as bad as you think, you’ll never get a promotion by being so stiff heh-" their banter was set to go on for little while longer but both of them suddenly tensed up, perking their ears, trying to put the loud music and noises of the crowd on the back of their mind. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"You heard that?"

"Sure did, it came from one of the empty room right over there"

The two guards brought their hands on the hilts of their blade, ready to unsheathed or bring down their attacks at a moment’s notice as they approached the room in question.

The one with the scales on his face, didn’t linger outside the door any longer and slid it open without hesitation, it was one of the more simple rooms, with just a bathtub in a corner, a bed amidst variety of other items to go along each of the two most prominent features of the love room, or so it was generally referred to.

Having been made aware that the escapee was the crawly kind and rather small sized, about the size of a fist had said their lady, they immediately looked straight up at the ceiling and walls, absolutely nothing.

The leaner one looked into the bathtub carefully, once more, he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

"Who is going to get down and look under the bed?" the scaly guard asked, both of them knew fully well that flipping the entire thing over would be safer, but destroyingLady Syklon’s property, to perhaps not even find what they were looking for was certain to land them in trouble.

One was fearing being turned into a living piece of art, the thought of having legs instead of arms as well as many other dangerous futures crossed his mind.

The other, was more worried about ruining his chances with the lady, as though he had any to begin with, in any case, none of them was willing to take the risk, they stared at one another.

"Paper"

"Scissors"

"Goddamnit" the lovestruck guard chuckled at his wondrous luck, life was truly good to him, he stared longingly at his own hand, imagining Lady Syklon’s small limb in his own as they walked amidst the colourful trees.

"Hey, calm down there weirdo and watch for it, it could come rushing out at any moment!" averting his gaze from the rising fifth extension of the human body, he walked over to the bed, preparing to quickly get down, making sure that his comrade wasn’t lost in lurid fantasies before leaping into action.

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Frankly, the guard had been expecting some sort of lizard, or centipede, monsters of that sort could have corrosive acid at their disposal, so he expected a small thing like that, so when he saw a skeletal hand, standing on its wrist, wriggling its bony fingers as a compressed mass of darkness revolved before its palm, he was genuinely confused.

They didn’t have any undead for their attraction, this meaningless thought relative to the situation at hand caused some disservice as the sphere of darkness was launched straight at his face.

It was like being hit with slime, except way stickier, quickly expanding itself into his nose and mouth, rushing up against his eyes just as he reflexively closed them, then, the substance switched from slimy to more liquid, allowing it to more easily travel inside of the guards body, then the corrosive nature came into full power as there was nothing that could be done anymore.

He didn’t even scream, the sudden jolt of pain almost knocking him out right on the spot, but he didn’t fall down, he had refined his mastery of the sword and of combat with great care, he could handle it for a few moments, try to discover a solution to the horrifying attack he had just endured due to his carelessness.

The guard with a crush on their lady had absolutely no idea what was happening to his fellow, but he went into full alert mode, stepping back, keeping both the other swordsman and the bed in view, unsheathing his blade, he rose it above his head.

The hand crawled on the ground, right into sight before jumping up an impressive height and latching onto the back of the guard that was currently melting from the inside.

Like the devil itself, the hand reached his left shoulder, landing onto him as though it was going to give him fatherly advice, this impression was right on point, for the hand spoke insidious words into the dying swordsman’s ear.

The first few words were in dead tongue, conveying something that the guard understood immediately, then, to be clear, the monstrous limb spoke in the pale tongue, giving out the answer that the guard wanted.

"You will live, you simply need to reap his life" taking advantage of the fact that the swordsman was now fully aware that his death was imminent and unavoidable, delirium threatened to take over, but before the white tendrils of madness could embrace him, death whispered a way out.

It was only natural that a living would not want to die.