Gregori Vanhel felt all of these at once, letting a loud
exhale escape from a mouth that needed no air. He had done this before, and yet
there was something entirely new to the experience. Though he had no eyes, he
looked at the darkness around him, trying to move. With growing curiosity and
confusion he realized he felt the dull feeling of cold stone; his limbs numb
yet from awakening. Yes, this was entirely new.
A wave of memories flooded into his mind of the lives he had
lived…well as much as a corpse could live. He remembered a sharp pain in his
back, his body arching upwards to hit something hard. He had been stabbed in
the back, both figuratively and literally. It was not his first death, though
his previous deaths were not met with a long sleep. He had dreamed, down in the
black depths. This last death however brought no dreams, and so he awoke in
confusion.
Something had called him back to the world of man, and yet
he was uncertain as to what. It was a strange, tugging sensation on body and
mind. Was he beneath the ground? No. Slowly his senses returned, and while he
had no ears he could hear indistinct voices beyond wherever he was. Where was
he? The voices grew closer, before he heard a new sound. The shifting grind of
stone upon stone echoed as piercing light slowly grew. A coffin? No.
Vaknosh Blackwolf's Refuge 