† Terror’s instincts took him yet again into the unknown, since he had became a morhg he didn’t have a certain place to head towards, no place to call home and no allies or friends whatsoever, and he considered the other undead beings inferior, and vampires depend far too much on the living for his taste. He just wandered the realms high and low in search of something powerful enough to change the destiny he has been cursed with, a person or a magical item or whatever else, he was like a vampire after its blood. For the past several days he managed to keep himself away from his inherited murderous attitudes, it was an inner force that he felt it when he was human as well, so for the first time he wondered if he hadn’t been cursed from his first very day, who knows, maybe by some diety…

Except for a graveyard maybe, Dori’ba, the land of the dead was the only place which would welcome him without question and was the only thing close to what he could call a home and where he could feel at peace with himself. He needed to feel at peace with himself because he had to work out some new plans, some things that he didn’t try before in order to return to his older self, and who knows, maybe even become stronger. Finding the rests of what once used to be a tomb stone, he sat upon it. Terror was wearing his usual black cloak, but the hood wasn’t pulled over his head this time. He would stay there for awhile in deep thoughts but in the same time trying to keep an eye to his surroundings in case some threat arose. A skeletal hand was moved to the hilt of his sword, adjusting it and making sure it was still there.

Like earlier stated for the first time ever he thought that he could have been cursed by a god since birth… Hmmm… a god… asking for divine intervention was something he didn’t think of earlier, should he try and find a god who will give back his human appearance, but would the costs be, that would mean that he will be indebted.†

Azirel had been sitting on a large tomb stone for a while, under the shadow of a withered dying tree. The tree was a reference point, a reference to where he ended his last visit.
He had an odd habit of reading tomb stones and this place was the only place in this new world that he knew of where he could do such. Most of the tombs said things like, 'RIP' or 'Rest in Peace, [Instert Name Here]'. One of them even said, 'Body Preserved for Necromancy Purposes'.
The perticular tombstone that Azirel was resting atop said, 'Geoffry Fletcher, Lived a Short Life.'

Azirel removed his packback and opened it, searching for his newly bought map, apparently this world used gold crowns, similar to his own world's. He pulled out the map, scanning it, once again, for a less undead-infested graveyard, and once again, he found nothing. He tucked the map back into his ratty old travel pack, and swung it pack around his shoulders.

He picked himself up, brushing off his pants, another habit of his. He decided he'd continue his tombstone examinations. He walked along, row after row, reading tombstone inscription after tombstone inscription, hot red falchion drawn. Every now and then he'd have to push a mindless zombie into the mud, maybe slice its head off. He was almost at a good spot to head home for the night when he saw a corpse, sitting atop a tombstone, garbed in a black cloak, with its hand on the hilt of a sword.
Was it a zombie? It looked rather intelligent. Its face filled Azirel with disgust, and it smelled of rotting flesh. Azirel wasn't sure to make of this thing... He wasn't entirely sure it was alive, and Azirel wasn't sure if he had the guts to find out. It looked as if it was moving breathing, so Azirel reach out, heart pounding, and tapped the corpse...

((Ooc: Sorry it took so long, my internet connection has been a bit screwy))

Disturbed from his moments when he could get at peace with himself, by a tap on his shoulder, Terror became quite agitated and aggravated at the situation. Almost instinctively, as if it had a mind of its own, the long, cartilaginous tongue emerged his mouth like a serpent facing the man behind, he looked… living… what would a living thing do in desolated and undead-infested area? Terror’s skeletal hand rested at the hilt of his longsword, a weapon uniformly pitch-black in appearance, even if it didn’t have magical properties it still looked like a interesting one, and even enchanted if one didn’t have the knowledge or the ability to detect if the sword was magical indeed.

He then turned his head so he could scan this man over a few times, what did he wanted? “Yes?” That was all he said, showing no signs of hostility so far. Ask first kill later. But he had to admit, this man had some guts to approach him. Slowly, he stood up, few of his bones cracking while he did that, his red, permanently glowing eyes continuing to study the figure before him and again a feeling of envy shuddered his whole being, the difference between the two of them, the difference between what he once was and what he had now become. He hated himself for becoming a morhg, hated himself for not wining his last fight, hated whoever placed this curse upon him, and he had times when he hated everything that was alive for the mere fact that he couldn’t be the same.

“What is that you want stranger? Are you looking for trouble coming here and disturbing me?”

Upon tapping the skeleton-ish thing, it's tongue shot out, as if it were a snake and turned to face Azirel. At this Azirel jumped back and his hand shot to his side. The creature turned to face Azirel and studied him, it looked angry, or annoyed. Azirel gulped, "Yes?" The creature asked. Azirel was to afraid to reply, but it didn't matter much anyways, the being spoke again. “What is that you want stranger? Are you looking for trouble coming here and disturbing me?”. It asked.

Azirel stepped back, nervously examining the creature, it appeared to be a ressurected skeleton, a creature quite common in his own world, but it was actually intelligent, this surprised Azirel. It's glowing red eyes seemed to be overflowing with terrors from its own live. It had a few strands of hair dangling from it's skull.

Azirel gulped before he answered to this creature. "I'm sorry to disturb you ummm... Sir? I didn't realise you were... A living being?" Azirel said, afraid that the sword the thing was holding might swing up and behead him.