"This is pretty worrying actually" a big man with red skin and dark, lustrous horns in the shape of thunderbolts spoke as he held onto the arm that had been pinned to the barn by Helena and Milo.
The thing was still moving with much strength, threatening to slip out of his grasp, the man's grip wasn't easy to overcome however.
"Yeah, the death force isn't in abundance, but it isn't slipping away from the severed limb, and it seems like it is truly operating of its own volition, the undead isn't willfully trying to move his arm at all, it's basically it's own undead" a woman dressed in all white wearing a mask crossed her arms, her white robes flowing all over the place.
The man with red skin, peeled off the sleeve and glove still stuck to the self-efficient arm, brushing away the rot as it bursted with black blood like ripe fruits.
