((All my info is based on the description.))
Vencrest rode on the back of the colossal back of the massive dragon, wind whistling through his hair, giving him an sense of freedom. The moon was high over head, bright and shining, illuminating the night. Vencrest despised the moon. It came, and it ruined the dark for all who dwelled in it. It was as if the goddess of Life had put the moon their to ruin the realm of night, and all who dwelled in it. Vencrest wasn't phased much by the moons presence, for soon, the dark lord would conquer the moon, claiming it for all that was evil.
Vencrest glanced over his shoulder, his muscles stiff from clinging onto the dragons back in the same position for several hours. He had been traveling, to no specific location or direction. His immortality allowed him to do what ever he wanted, and whenever he wanted. It was the spur of the moment when he had decided to set off flying towards the land of the dead, and destroy some of the creatures that dwelled there. It was his own test for them. In his mind he thought that humans that gained immortality were smart, and strong enough to become ever lasting. Vencrest was going to test the strength of the undead, to see if they were indeed powerful enough to call themselves everlasting like himself.
Vencrest closed his eyes, channeling energy to his mind, and image of a map flashed in his head. The location of his skeletal steed was immediately apparent to him, and all of the steeds surroundings. The undead horse was near a brook, far away from his location, away from other forms of intelligent life. The image of the map disappeared from his mind. He was content, for both of his 'animals' were safe, and away from the threats of the mortal race, who so foolishly shunned their kind.
Soon, small human shaped dots began to form on the dark ground below him. With a sharp turn of Vencrest's knee's, Zekbel began to bank to the ground below, the wind whistling with the sudden change of direction. They landed successfully, with a loud thud echoing from the massive feet of the plasma dragon. This attracted the attention of the many zombies that were wandering aimlessly around him. He didn't care about these lesser undead, he was looking for the more intelligent undead to challenge. Still, he could have a good time disposing of the useless forms approaching him.
He grabbed Icicle, his scimitar. He didn't know why he had chosen to call it this name, for it had no ice based special properties, but he still choose its name to be that. May be one day, he would learn to give it ice properties, but for now, just the normal scimitar would cause the death, or undeath, to many undead. Vencrest turned back to the dragon, and commented coolly ", feel free to kill as many as you want Zekbel, but when I summon you, I expect you to fight!" The dragon seemed to nod, as if he understood, and with that took off, and disappeared some were in the distance beyond.
Vencrest turned back to facing forward, glancing at the many forms heading his way. There were many gravestones around, and dead trees rising ominously like spires. He remembered the story to this accursed place. It had been a normal a sacred grave yard, guarded by priests and clerics. It had been ravaged by the Apocalypse Alliance, and now, its dead had risen to seek revenge. He had also heard that not only zombies littered the graveyard, but many different forms of undead roamed the place. Ghosts, liches, zombies, ghouls, wights, and and wraiths all resided here, and not only that, but vampires and werewolves had grown accustom to its dark grounds.
A zombie had traveled within striking distance. Vencrest wasn't prepared for this, but had managed to jump back, avoiding the clawed, bloody hand of the zombie. The zombie stumbled forward, and fell on the ground. Vencrest looked at its body, a look of disgust spread across his face. He walked forward, ready to combat the next zombie. His boot stepped on the neck of the zombie, and with that, he twisted his heal, and snapped the neck of the thing, and dislodged it from its body. When he had reached sword distance away from the next zombie, the decapitated it with a powerful swing of his sword, and turned around, punching a zombie behind him.
Both zombies fell on the ground. Vencrest was pleased with his work, like it was a form of art. A sharp pain seared across his back. Vencrest fell on his knees, a scream of pain emitting from his lips. The zombie in front of him was rising, and the two behind him as well. Vencrest was confused, the last time he fought zombies it only took to decapitate them to kill them, but they have seemed to gotten stronger. Vencrest leapt up, with a smirk, blood running back. Of course he should have known, all creatures go stronger with time, making immortals like them all the stronger. He backed away from the three zombies, ready to combat them.
There was a slight stench in the air, a smell strong and powerful. The pang of death surrounded Carevo. He was foolish for having come to these undying lands. His foolish stomach leads him here in hopes of food or blood. His need for substance grew dire and he would soon lose control. Carevo though now a beast of the night stared at the moon remembering the last time he lost control...the last time he had seen his family. He had slaughtered them in the night one by one. Now he started to anticipate his cravings and soon he gained full control. But recent events had prevented him from coming right out and feeding. He had to be cool and calculated about his meal choices. Desperate he came to these cursed lands in hopes of a fresh meal. It was folly everything here smelled of decay and rot.
Carevo turned back...has he began to walk he was overcome by a sense of anger and revenge struck heavy on his heart. This wretched place was affecting him. His claws began to lengthen and his eyes began to mist over and turn black. His fangs and jaw began to protrude...he needed to feed. In a desperate effort to regain control Carevo remembered slaughtering his family. His mouth burst open and let out a howl and then...the beast was gone Carevo had gained control for a short time. He had to run, it would be faster if he was in a wolf form but still, he could get to food fast enough. He ran as fast as he could over the undying lands and his feet seemed to melt into the dried mud as his eye caught a young girl hovering over an unmarked grave.
The dead surrounded her but she made no movement the beast inside him turned, fresh meat. He allowed his chomps to be licked and tangled with saliva anticipating a meal. He came closer. The meat that clung to her small body was fresh...pints of blood pumped through her. Carevo's claws lengthened. As the dead moved around her he moved toward her. With a quick snap he grabbed her and turned on her with blackened eyes. He looked deep into her eyes and the beast within jumped with glory. He bit down on air. The girl had vanished.
Cursing himself Carevo realized the girl was nothing more than one of the cursed dead. Swatting at one of the dead like it was an annoying fly Carevo with a slumped shoulder and a drawn claw blundered on at a break neck pace. Everything went black.........
Carevo awoke late into the night the dead were now at their full strength and they clung to him as he had the girl. In a fit of rage he drew his natural weapons and fended them off quite easily too easily. Normally he would have been sure a fight against many even the dead would be more difficult or was he coming into power. In his heart Carevo knew it was not the latter, his minds was wrought. It clung to a sort of anger and woe as he realized it was not him that the dead sought for he was already dead. Or at least in a sense.
They clung to his need his desire for blood, substance. For that was what the dead needed a way to become alive. A sense of living amongst death. For he was a cruel hand and never forgiving. Death would sooner slice your throat than let you bereave his hands and Carevo had the feeling that it was not the dead who clung to him but Death himself. He would not let this beast win he Carevo would accept his fate and he would escape Death over and over until the final bell began to toll. With a new determination Carevo ran for the hills he was at the edge of the undying lands and his excitement rose as he saw lights in the far distance. Lights meant food. Carevo took another step and another...each became heavier more weighted. Carevo pulled up each foot and exhaustion waved over him has he did. Soon the adrenaline would kick in and that meant he would lose control and there would be nothing that could change it.
His bones began to crack; his body took a new shape. Black veins and painful crunches riddled his body. His eyes became solid black. Hair began to grow. His snout lengthened his fangs grew. His skin became taut over rippling muscles. He had no acumen or insight into his future. He had no will now in full form he had only the hunt.
A twig...a small twig snapped in the distance back behind him toward the undying lands. Carevo began to charge toward the noise. With a fury and hatred no man ever knew.