The clouds hung around him, shielding the stars. Gathering his power, he transformed, his hair darkening, his skin become lifeless and pale. This was his true, undead form. Anything else was a mere guise - a mere convenience, though it was real in many aspects, making him alive- well almost alive, all over again. Yet at times it was necessary, required to do his job. Sometimes it was good to seem alive in order to guard the dead. The poor fools did not know that dead could walk. Any evidence was discounted. They even hung up the bells - to make sure none were burred alive. Buried alive accidentally. What a foolish thought. Those alive did not feel the terrible cold, piercing even in the middle of summer. Those alive did not lust for blood. He noted the blood on the armor. He should have cleaned himself of - but time did not allow it. He was a lord now - another funny thought. He had to achieve that to do what he had to at the moment. Even now, it still had its advantages as far as the job was concerned. But a lord had responsibilities- and he could not have skipped this battle. He should have though - it stained his armor. And as his eyes turned their final dark color he realized that not 5 meters to the right, coming out of the fresh grave, another battle was waiting for him.