Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Chapter 404 Inactivity

It was most bizarre, soldiers and knights remained perched upon great fortifications, such ramparts had been erected precisely for a conflict unlike any other, and yet, the common folks, the fishermen could calmly walk in and out, pass through the confusing, illogical layout of the undead camps, it had been allowed for one or two knights to accompany the fishermen, just to reassure the people who were forced to get much too close too cadavers that yet moved, decay, stagnation, dust and other filth mingled in the air, making one gag even after dozens of times.

Every time, without fail, fear would grasp their heart, in their eyes, nothing was stopping the corpses from cutting them all down, outside, with never more than a single brave knight, they could be swarmed and butchered in under a minute, but of course, the vanguard was steeled with discipline, simply standing around like statues.

Still, the knights scanned their surroundings at all times, from the moment they stepped away from the ramparts, when they reached the waters, as they fished, and when they headed back, the elites of the south were not only here to calm the nerves of their fishermen, but also to try and scout out the enemy, it was the undeads's prerogative to decide when a battle would occur, the people of Belliste would remain on the defensive, yet, it had already been a week since the leader of the vanguard had come, and apart from setting up camps, nothing had happened.

Their camps were something the knights were looking out for, they blended clearly contrasting architectures, meshed and grafted together in a way that was so off, so confusing that it had to be intentional, tents of all kinds, wooden structures, stone and iron amongst others things, the Bellistians did not know that, but these abominations were the clear mark that the architects had been given free reign when it came to the looks.

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But never did any of the livings were able of peeking at what laid within those absurd creations, the undeads never moved in or out in their presence, they didn't even move at all actually, as such, all that the knights were capable of confirming was the presence of tools of war laying around, racks of weapons and the various sorts of undeads.@@@@

In this regard, the south was doing pretty well as they had the excuse of having to go fish in the waters, it was highly probable that the undeads knew very well what they were trying to accomplish, but they just let it happen, the other regions were less lucky, they were hidden in small committee in wide biomes, their food close at hand, they were hiding within their own territories, but they too wanted to get an idea of what they were up against.

Not only did this one have a particularly striking appearance, he was rather active, always watching from a distance when a group of fishermen went out, as if just itching to grab one and squeeze the life out of them.

There were probably special individuals amongst the ranks of the undead vanguard, but they had yet to show themselves, the southern king read through everything, even if not unique, many of the castes were definitely elites in their own rights, one just needed to take one glance to know that, from the looks of things, there were even beasts and monsters amidst them.

"What about the regular soldiers? Was anyone capable of gleaning any details to their fighting style and such?" speaking to Aramap that stood just at the corner of his vision, Cleavster felt tense, not once had Loimos shown himself since that meeting.

He communicated through messenger birds with the other warlords, but neither of them had caught sight of him either, the leader was probably overseeing the progress of their miasma ring around the continent, but he could not help worry about him, perhaps because a general so confident that he would not show up to command himself was a ill omen, or perhaps because he would rather keep that monster within sight.

It was probably a mix of both.

"Sorry my lord, but the undead soldiers are not doing anything other than stand around, we can only infer what sort of formations they may assume by the weapons they most often carry around" Aramap shook his head, always throwing glances at the door, expecting a messenger to announce that the undead had decided for a battle to soon take place.

But another week went by without anything happening.