He sat on the cold ground of a fresh grave. His back leaned against a broken down tombstone. The tombstone was weathered too much to figure out who's grave it was, not that Onid cared. One person life wasn't important to him nor were thousands of lives. He felt at home here this place reeked of death, but to him it was the greatest scent. As far as he knew he was alone, if there was anyone around it would more than likely be already dead. Onid honestly enjoyed being around the undead for though he was very different from them, they were more like him than anything else in Arda.
Onid then shifted his thoughts to the world and the world's creator. He despised Lothlomendil, not because he was evil, but because she represented everything he hated. She was also the Goddess of Life and he was not alive, not anymore. He rose up off the ground and looked around for something to do. Though he liked this land he still wanted more, this is where he and zombies differed again. He began to claw himself slowly along his chest. The cuts bled and slowly the wounds sealed up. I might as well get some practice while I'm here. My dark regeneration spell is still not strong enough to help me in a battle with a worthy foe, though there are hardly any worthy. He then felt bored again after repeating his practice three more times. He then withdrew his sword and started to walk off. Maybe I'll find some zombies for fencing practice or humans which would be even better. He smiled in delight at the thought. He then wished not to wait a second longer and went into full sprint.