"He has no soul," the elf stated. "But the body—it is alive. He is not undead. He has a disease and will perish." The pathetic man fell to his knees and sobbed. "Master, master, tell me what to do. I do not know what to do. I have not been told." It would have been pure bathos but for the ghastliness of the man’s appearance. Flies buzzed hungrily around the rotting flesh of his leg.