*Caleb continues his adventure. A human/night elf romance will occur in later chapters.*

The air outside wasn't as foul as it was inside the tomb from which Caleb emerged. However, this wasn't saying much. The land that now stretched before him resembled a barren wasteland that possessed no traces of life whatsoever. Caleb was dumbfounded for several moments before he realized where he now stood. How could he not recognize the shape of his home during his days of innocence? He was in Lordaeron. Even during the Third War, it had not looked this bad. Many questions were now rushing through Caleb's mind. How much time had passed since the invasion? Just how did I get here? What could have transformed this mighty land into a shell of its former self?

At least one answer immediately came to him. The Scourge! Caleb had become so obsessed with the Burning Legion that he didn't give a single thought as to tool that made their campaign possible. The Legion may have failed, but could the Scourge have finished the job? Did they achieve world domination at last? Caleb did not know the answers to these questions, but he was determined to find out.

Now he turned his attention to himself, to observe his new body. He knew well enough his old one had perished. Caleb was surprised at how similar this new vessel felt. He had a stocky build, slightly muscular, with pale grey skin. He was tall, but not exaggeratingly so. His medium-length black hair had been converted to a white mat of fibers. His light brown eyes he sported before had been replaced by ones that glowed bright red. It was the sign that he was no longer human, yet he didn't feel as if he had become undead. This is mainly due to the fact that his body hadn't decayed at all. Whatever curse, incantation, or spell he was under, Caleb wasn't entirely sure. All he knew is that, in his body, mind and whatever was left of his soul, he was no longer mortal. He would have to walk the lands of Azeroth, until he is either slain or he leaves for new opportunities.

A wretched howl echoing in the distance brought Caleb out of his train of thought. The nature of it sounded like it came from an undead being. He knew that he was in no shape to fight the hordes of fel creatures that now roamed the countryside.

This matter of power drew his attention back to the tomb from where he emerged. There were other bodies in there that hadn't decomposed to the point where they were useless. In order to regain some of his lost strength, Caleb must devour the bodies.

Caleb entered the dusty chamber with haste, searching greedily for the vessels. After some time, he realized there was but one body left in the chamber. Chanting a fire spell of demonic origin, he lit a nearby torch to get a better look as to who the body belonged to.

As soon as he did so, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared blankly at the corpse. Caleb knew who this was. It was Ishreale, his partner during the days of the Burning Legion and his only real friend during that service.

So you suffered the same fate as I, huh, Ishreale, Caleb wearily thought.

Now, he knew what must be done. With heavy hands, he dragged Ishreale closer to the flame. With that, Caleb dug his hands into the corpse's torso, ripping his organs out and whatever other entrails he had to offer.

As Caleb did so, he began to mutter a demonic chant, "For truly, I say unto you, that unless you eat the flesh of the living and drink their blood, you have no life in you…"

Now that the organs were in his bloody hands, he raised them over his head and began to drink the fluids that were streaming out of the many openings they had. As Ishreale's life force went down Caleb's throat, he felt his own power increase. It seems Kil'jaeden made the mistake of not taking Ishreale's demonic powers, choosing rather to kill him since he wasn't in the same league as Caleb.

A foolish mistake on his part, Caleb thought with a touch of arrogance.

It took several more minutes before the ritual was complete. Caleb wiped his hands on the rags he wore. He knew he had to get some new clothes. He shot a glance at his battered companion, no longer recognizing the pile of remains that lied before him.

Caleb said, "Forgive me, old friend."

A fraction of his power had returned to him, but he was aware of the long road that must be taken before he could face Kil'jaeden again. The maelstrom still raged in his mind, as the only emotions left to him were anger and hatred.

As he made his way down the cobbled road leading to the ruins that lied in the distance, being what was left of Lordaeron Palace, he thought, there was only one prevailing thought: vengeance.

And that could only be measured in one thing, that which could be cleaved and torn: flesh.

*Review please.*