I am dead.  They call this undeath, but it feels like death to me.  How can it not, I feel no emotions.  Not anger, not sadness, not remorse, nor regret nor anything else.

My name is Cereis (Seh-reese) Mondavis.  I was born a human in the town of Darrowshire.  

The plague came to us when I had just turned twenty.  I was to be married that year.  I cannot remember the boy's name. Nor can I remember much of what happened after the plague struck.  

It was a quick death for me; I passed away from a high fever.  Many before and after me suffered much worse.  I was there to see it among my own family.  I know not where any of them are now.  Where they destroyed in the war?  Are they undead, free of the powers of the Litch King, wandering around as I now am?

I do not know how I ended up in Trisfal, but I suppose it is where I belong.  Many of the other undead I have seen seem quite animated, dispite their current state of existance.  

At first I did not know what to do with myself, so I entered the nearby armor and weapons place.  Sitting among all of that gear it finally occurred to me that I was going to be a town guard in my life.

So, I took up a sword and a shield and I entered the run down church.  They gave me tasks to help me get use to my undead state, to help me limber up the long dead muscles.  On the way out, one of the female trainers beckoned me over.

She stared at me for a long time, then she told me I was lucky. I asked why. She said it was because I retained much of the beauty in my face.  I simply stared at her.  Then I remembered my manners and thanked her before walking away.

I am dead, what use do I have for a pretty face?  Are the other undead women vain as well?

I started destroying zombies.  It was surprisingly easy.  My sword skills should come back to me in time.  I was but a novice in real life, but I have nothing to take me from my honing my skills now.

Perhaps I will ask to train as a Deathguard  I'd say that is a fitting substitute for what I was to become.