Darkness encompassed all, it was deep, impenetrable, and pristine. There was no sound amidst the darkness, no sensation or stimulation, only blackness. It was calming in its undisturbed serenity, and neither warmth, nor cold seemed to permeate it, an almost natural state of being. Slowly it became, it became less of darkness, and more of the void. Fear strikes, panic sets in as the void engulfs this once beloved blackness. Suddenly, sensation, a chill flowing from beyond the nothing, its true warmth now realized, and torn away as feeling assails everything. Gradually, the darkness faded, no longer the void, simply blackness, shapes and objects identifiable, if not obscured. Soon, even this shroud is lifted as a soft warmth begins to spread. Light.

The light reveals shape. Form and figure are now clear, understood. Walls of grey stone and green moss rise and converge into a domed structure. Old, unkempt, weathered but not shaken by time or being used, again and again. The iridescence grows, still soft and warm, but revealing, benevolent in its nature, casting off shadow. Fear retreats, calm is not reached, want and thought arrive, content no longer possible. Within the center of the domed structure, stands the source of the enlightenment, a statue, grand and beautiful, but showing its age. While its features had been weathered away by unknown or countless years, the statue’s figure was of a mature woman, beautiful and incredibly real in its proportions. In her right hand she held an orb, and in the left a piece of parchment hung, unfurled.

Shapes began to rise, not ones like the rock and moss of the temple, outsiders, borne to this statue, out of the darkness, and into the light. Armor clanked, appendages slid and dragged themselves across the cold stone, towards the glow and its warmth. New breath was taken, as each form began to rise and live. Born from darkness, into light, from void, to earth, from immaterial to concrete, once more life invigorated flesh and bone.

Wake. Up.

This is not a premise where you once stood in an endless void. This is not within a die to be rolled and decide an outcome. This is not something which needs to be wiped away before beginning.

Rather, this is something with an outcome determined ahead of time.

-Initiate.

The black fades into white.

The white melts into color.

The void is struck by sound.

From suspension in a world where all was obscured by a dense fog, a soul is pulled away from the naught just as quickly as it was placed within. The lights and sounds accelerate, whirling against one another in a mad cacophony as they compress like the collapse of a neutron star-

Let's begin, then. Wake up.

I can feel the air.

I can feel the light.

I can feel myself.

---

A groan emanated outwards from the body of a homunculus as she rose to her feet, a hand reaching up to rub her eyes. "Gah, what the hell? My head..."

After trailing off, a look of confusion crossed the artificial life form's face as she retracted her hand.

"...my head?"

A split second passed before realization set in, the retracted hand immediately shooting up to the sky in celebration, fist clenched.

"Yes! It actually happened! Diana, it's time to experience life!" She announced brightly. "Oh, old owner of this body, hope y'don't mind that I'll probably be desecrating whatever you did with this thing. Well, you probably don't exist anymore, so who really cares~?"

An instant later, the figure staggered slightly in a dizzy spell. "Kyaa, okay, okay, not used to this yet." She hastily murmured to herself, steadying her posture against a stone wall. Of course, it had already been noticed. With the soul placed into a body, "information" ingrained into the body was now the property of the soul. Their "everything" was now Diana's.

Well, save for things contained in the old soul, like memories. But really, Diana could care less about that.

'Alrighty, let's see. Some shoddy survival gear, kay. This armor's not bad, I guess. Better than something this body can't support, which from what I can tell covers most armors. Why the hell do I have a sword though? This body's weeeaaak. Doesn't help that I've got this headache and still don't have the hang of this crap yet. Ow.'

Going over the information received by virtue of now being the "owner" of the body, Diana's expression grew annoyed.

'Hey, this...this is a joke, right? No physical specs, no special equipment, no nothing. I mean, sure, it's magic-specced, so I could let it slide if it had some cool magic. But this...isn't this just normal elemental magic? There's literally nothing special about anything here, it's just something that's managed to max out its 'normalcy' stat! Seriously, what the hell, old owner?'

Letting out a huff, Diana crossed her free arm over her chest in annoyance. "I deserve some better inheritance than this. Fuckin' jeez." She muttered to herself.

'...well, nothing for it. If the body's a boring old rock, I'll just use myself to polish it up.'

After ruminating to herself, Diana's gaze finally drifted over to the weathered statue that lay in the center, her right eyebrow quirking up slightly. "...oh?"

A still silence dominated the underground expanse, with only the sounds of dripping water from overhead stalactites and the flow of a small stream being audible, though no-one was there to hear it. Ubiquitous darkness shrouded everything in shadow, the lumen globes already drained of mana and the torches burnt to uselessness. Chests had already been looted, and scientific apparati shattered into shards and bent metal; and from the temple entrance to the farthest wall, there was a trail of broken limbs and mutilated bodies, the rusting iron of weapons carelessly strewn about, and torn, heavy banners hanging from the ceiling, swaying to and fro as they peddled their now meaningless symbols to the mild breeze. Of course, in the oppressive shadow, he couldn't see any of this as he awoke.

"Urgh," he groaned, as his nostrils flared, hungrily sucking up the dank air and the life the came with it. Lying face-down on the floor, a small pain was incessant in his chest from a pebble he had been laying on, and he found his arms incredibly weary as he moved them from their place near his hip, winning the battle against rigor mortis.

He moved his hands further along, at the sides of his head, and pressed his palms against the damp cavern floor as hard as it was possible. Still weak, the effort it took to even sit on his knees was almost insufferable with its intensity, and Vaul succeeded only barely. A flash of instinct told him then that something important lay just towards his right, and he followed it, fingers alert, to feel a solid, deathly cold rod. His hand clenched with force, and he hefted the staff up by the rearward portions of its shaft, then steadied the pommel on the ground and grabbed it with his other hand to finally wrench himself away from the floor. And yet, no matter how many times he blinked, it was still dark where he was at.

And so he gestured thoughtlessly, his arm going from right to left in an aimless wave, and at that very instance glittered the underground stream as light, for the first time in forever, greeted its waters, coming from lumen globes held in sconces along the walls of the cavern. Vaul looked around, examining his new surroundings, unsure of what to make of it all, as after he swiveled his eyes horizontally, taking it all in, and looked down at his feet, there was the grinning face of a disembodied skull.

Mildly startled, he kicked it without a thought, the sudden effort jolting his muscles to spasm protectively as the calcium husk rolled away. A dull, but very noticeable pain was welling up in his left calf, as the gravitas of many dozens of armed corpses and opened, desecrated coffins extracted from their places within the walls began to sink in.

He found a smooth enough piece of rock towards the side, one that he made his way to and sat upon. He was surprised to feel something poking his hide, so he shifted a bit on his impromptu seat to get comfortable. He continued to breathe, his lungs admirably remembering how to, but his respiration lessened in vigor as his need for air decreased with time. Then he figured out the cause for the shadow hanging overhead, and pulled back his hood, and reached further back to feel the long tresses of his hair. Tiredly did he sigh.

"A Necromancer," he half-whispered, his voice not quite there, but the characteristic, moderate inflections that indicated a male were definitely noticeable. He cleared his throat, and tested his vocal cords again. "A Necromancer..."

Such was the breadth of the underground temple that wherever he looked, he could see the messy aftermath of whatever battle had occurred here. Though the air was putrid, he could find no more flesh on what had once been thralls to whoever once owned this body. It had all rotted away, and a dozen skulls grimaced silently his way as he just sat there, finding hints of pain as he experimentally flexed his limbs. He brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed away the earthly crust that had formed on them, as he began to think on the road ahead.

And when he took his hands away, he finally noticed the statue of the goddess, and other other, peculiar figures rising from the floor far away, in the center of the expanse.

The sound of feet, the cold ground under her body, the groggy sensation of waking before one wishes too, the slowly fading darkness, all of these were things Alyona experienced as she opened her eyes, rather unwillingly to find new sensation to experience. She could move her arms and tai-wait, arms? TAIL? As her vision sharpened, she could look at her arms, skin as white as fresh plaster. Alyona forced herself up off the ground, to a standing(?) position so she could look at her tail easily, instead she wobbled and fell backwards.

There was a small pain in her back as the rings of the chainmail dug into her back from falling on it. This new position offered a way to view her tail more easily though, and so, she tried her best to control the tail managing to raise it so that she could partially view it, a snake's tail. Raising her head, she looked down, it seemed that at her waist, her human body turned into that of a serpent of some sort.

Letting her tail fall to the ground with a slapping sound, Alyona tried again to stand, rolling over and then raising her torso up again. Wobbly still, she put a hand on one of the mossy walls for support and attempted to steady herself.

She used this time to study her surroundings, other figures visible in the room. They, however, failed to garner Alyona's attention as she stared at the statue in the center of the room. Majestic in its own right, seemingly the only thing in this room that had not crumbled away or been reclaimed by moss. Tearing her attention from the statue, she viewed the others in the room, both humanoids, one seemed intent to hide his features while the other seemed to be a pale human, though nowhere near as pale as Alyona herself.

Finally, she returned her attention to herself, finding some kind of satchel, of course inside wasn't much, some meat and some flint and steel, obviously fire starting implements. On her other "hip" she found a short sword. Not much in the way of equipment, obviously she needed to buy some actual equipment first chance she got.

A pile of rags and bone in the corner shifted. A fleshless scarecrow of a man, once strong; now dead. A lifeless husk of what it once was. Or was it? The skeleton shifted once again and went back to being still. The Skeleton rolled over and curled into the foetal position.
Five more minutes... Victor thought.
He shifted once again and tried going back to sleep, but he realised that it was strangely uncomfortable now, and something was poking him in the ribs.
Wait... Ribs... I'm alive? Victor thought.

He got up to a sitting position suddenly. A pirate hat fell off his head and onto his lap. Victor reached over to pick it up, but noticed that his hand was missing something. Namely flesh. He got up quickly and ran to a nearby puddle to check his reflection and a leering skull met his view. He reached up to touch his face and the reflection mirrored the action.
Nope, doesn't look like I'm alive. Victor thought.
He shrugged and walked away from the puddle. He was moving, at least. He could think. That was something. So maybe he was technically alive, but also not alive?

Victor scanned the room. Maybe there was something around that could explain why he was a Skeleton. He spotted a large, glowing statue in the middle of it.
Well, that looks pretty. Victor noted.
He decided to walk over and investigate it. Maybe it would have the answers he wanted.
(If you're wondering, the ground was poking at his ribs)

A smaller, stranger looking figure than many who had already risen began to move ever so slightly. A wiggle of the finger, a clenching of the joints, a twitch of the tail. Irmo quickly ran through thoughts of how strange non-manual breathing was and how horrifically overstimulating life was before promptly pushing these thoughts down and opening his sensory organs- eyes in this case, quickly adjusting to the shaded recesses of the temple. He tried moving, stumbling slightly, before giving it another, more successful try. Standing on a pair of apparently digitigrade legs, the spirit began to ponder its situation.
This is... quite interesting in fact. Though very heavily disconcerting.
Irmo brought a hand to his face, tracing the lines in an attempt to get some impression of himself.
Snout, scales, "mustache", ridges. It appears I'm biologically aberrant, at least compared to that specimen Irmo thought to himself, noting a skull lying on the ground missing its jaw.
The kobold, satisfied with that basic inventory of his physical state, began taking inventory of his pockets and other accoutrement. A few knives, a pipe and some what appeared to be tobacco, some ceramic pots with fusing sticking out of them that some part of him suggested were some sort of bomb, and some other more general items like rope and a fine compass. Pulling out a flint and a stone he appeared to keep in a shirt pocket, he severed a piece of tobacco, gingerly inserted it into his pipe, and took his first smoke as a corporeal being while examining his surroundings. The statue in the center caught his interest, and as everyone else seemed to gravitate in that direction he decided that, lacking anything better to go on, to approach it.

Gosh, why is it so dark? I cant see a thing. The thought caused Isa to blink, and soon the area around her was flooded with light.

Ah, I can see. That's strange. But what about-? Isa was looking around as she thought, and though she couldn't see much, what she had just seen made her want to cry in confusion. I- I'm a, FISH? I... The fish tail moved, and Isa began to calm down.

Oh, not a fish. A mermaid. That explains why everything's so wavy. I must be underwater. Isa was able to place her hands on the bed of sand below her and push up, forcing her head above the water.

What she could see now was, she had been lying in a small stream in what appeared to be a large cave or temple. Forcing herself to be silent, Isa observed as a few creatures, some close to her and some farther away, began to stir and rise from where they had been on the ground, very similar to herself.

"We may be the same." Isa spoke her thought, testing her voice. The melodic lilt that meet her made her want to sing. "Mermaids always had such pretty voices..." Speaking out loud again, Isa was about to attempt to haul herself out of the water, when her body seemed to give her a warning.

"Waterproof... oh, clothes." Isa had almost forgotten about clothes. "That's what I get for being a spirit for so long... how long has it been?" Isa mumbled to herself as she carefully slipped on the simple white dress and sandals as she got out of the water. Once she was out, Isa took inventory of everything on her new person.

Food, weapons, and a special necklace were a few of the more notable things, however Isa could not comprehend the reason for the large number of seemingly random seashells she had. "Could possibly be a collection... I better hang on to these for now." With everything important out of the way, Isa started walking towards where the bulk of the creatures seemed to be, gathered around a gorgeous statue.

In one of the darkened corners of the ruined temple, a series of stone biers were set into the floor. The majority of them were bare, yet on one of them, an ebony armoured figure lay in repose. The body, indistinctive underneath the plate armour, hooded helm and cloak, was clutching a broad-bladed, two-handed sword in its gauntlets and, at the foot of the bier, was a rucksack containing various possessions.

All was still and silent within this corner of the building ... until a soft, sibilant command was whispered within it:

"Awaken."

Two tiny luminous scarlet orbs opened behind the helmet's visor; wearied, laboured breathing caused the armoured chest to rise and fall as ragged gasping for air forced its way through the tiny breathing grilles of the helm. Groggily rising to a seating position, the figure placed the sword to one side of the bier as it tried to get its sense of bearing and direction. Catching sight of her gauntlets and armoured legs, however, the figure fell of of the bier in a panic, landing on the floor with a clatter of armoured plating and chain-mail. She moaned, pain from landing hard on her back flaring up her spine as, righting herself on her knees and hands, she weakly began to look for something that she could use to get a good look at herself.

Who am I? she asked herself, crawling towards what appeared to be a cistern or a pool that was buried within the floor. A name floated to the surface: I'm ... I'm ... Krzysztanzia - that's it, that's my name. But where am I right now? And in whom or in what have I woken up in?

Like a wounded animal, the armoured figure came to a stop beside the cistern and, drawing the hood back enough, tugged the black helmet away from her head; it fell with a clang against the cobblestones, allowing Krys to see herself for the first time. Within the rippling reflection of the stream, she could make out a face - alabaster skin as ashen-grey as the stone she was kneeling on, crimson-irised eyes that stared back at her in utter confusion, pale white locks of hair that fell from beneath the hood that framed her face, and ...

Throwing the hood fully back, Krys gasped in shock at the pair of prominent ears that thrust themselves up from the sides of her head. She reached up with a gauntlet-clad hand and pressed the fingers against her face, gingerly caressing her cheek as if to confirm that the reflection in the water was, indeed, her.

This ... this is me. This is ME!

Scrabbling for her helmet, she placed it back over her head, her pale visage once again hidden by the protective steel that covered it. Wobbly getting to her feet and turning back to the biers in order to collect the objects that were left with her, she paused, noting that she was not alone within the temple's massive central chamber and that all of the other occupants were gravitating towards a massive statue within the center of the room.

(Im so sorry about that, this is my sisters account)

Nothing. There was nothing, just a deep void. No sound, no feeling, nothing. Suddenly, spots of light encroach on the darkness, chasing it away. Blurred shapes, and then color come next. Then feelings, slowly, you can feel the blood start rushing through heavy, once lifeless limbs.

"Ugh..." Pushing herself up off the ground, Alida shakily stands up. Getting a body was not the most pleasant experience in her oh so short existence. That's right, she had a body now... Her eyes moved downwards to take in her new body. She looked almost human, except for the roots and plants that seemed to be part of her. A dryad, that was clear. Everything about her screamed nature. Hm. The equipment was fine, but she would probably have to restock some time. A cloak, a bow and arrows, quiver for said arrows, a pouch full of herbs... and no money. Great, she was broke. At least people wouldn't rob her. She hoped.

Coming back from analyzing her new self, Alida looked around. She was in a large chamber by the looks of it, of what she had no idea. Turning further, she could see a mob of people swarming around a large statue not too far away. After readjusting her quiver so she could place the stray arrows inside and placing the fruits inside of her pouch, she cautiously walked over to where the others were crowding. She hoped that these were other former spirits and not a group of murders. Did murders go around in groups? Oh goddess, that sounds terrifying. After confirming that these weren't in fact a rampaging group of killers, Alida joined the group, standing on the edges just in case.

The first thing that the new consciousness did as it slowly gained awareness was, in all honesty, panic. For a moment, it felt itself melting and slowly yet constantly losing form, making it think that its body had somehow disintegrated or was otherwise defective. However, after a few moments of blindly wondering if it was going to die, the new awareness finally realized what was going on.

A Slime.

The entire body was that of a slime.

Taking a few moments to gather itself, the awareness gathered its bearings. It's name... its name was Airan. Yes, that was it. It was a slime, wearing a giant suit of armour - wait what? Taking another moment, the new awareness, aptly named Airan, realized that the slime was, in fact, wearing a suit of armour. Why it was doing so was a mystery, but Airan did not think that it could leave the suit of armour - yet. And because the slime had done so, Airan saw no reason to.

Slowly forcing the suit of armour into a kneeling position from the dead, crumpled form it had been in before, Airan looked around and saw companions - others. It tried to call out to them, to ask them questions, but it was then that the last surprise came.

Silence. Dead silence.

Airan could form no words.

Forced into a silent panic once again, Airan realized that there was nothing it could do - it was not that Slimes could not talk, it was that it could not talk. Seeing that it had no alternative, it began doing as everyone else did and gravitated towards the centre statue in the room, silently envying everyone around it who was making small comments.

There was darkness, nothing but the void surrounding a consciousness. The primordial state all living things feel before birth, and might just be the most uncomfortable state once they become sentient. It's kind of funny. The silence and darkness of the void is what people feel for the longest time, yet they forever fear to return to it.

Of course, Verena was no exception. The very moment light began to touch the consciousness, and thoughts were allowed to formulate, the very idea of returning to the void would chill Verena to the bone. Thankfully, she wasn't having these thoughts, but was thinking on how thirsty she was. A lifeless body might have the desire for nourishment, so that might just be it.

Despite her thirst, Verena managed to get other thoughts across her mind. Her name was Verena Von Reinhard, she was female, she had sharp teeth, and seemed to be a vampire.

Well that could be an issue. Her thirst was for blood, not for water. Well, there was water in blood, but that was irrelevant. She was a creature who lived by taking the life out of others.

This was an interesting though, and might question the morals she may or may not have.

She'd worry about all of this later, first, she had to view the new world around her, and move this body for the first time. Well, the first time she has moved it.

Verena opened her eyes, and for the first time, got to observe the world her dormant consciousness has never gotten to see before.

The darkness was unbearable, it was shifting, amorphous, without definition or constraint. It was maddening. No words, no order, nothing to describe. He didn't like that. Then, as though a prayer had been answered, light, form, shape. Light cast away darkness... warmth and benevolence caused cold and cruelty to vanish. Light's purpose, its duty, is to illuminate, to guide. Duty casts away uncertainty. Yes, those words made sense, felt familiar, at least to Franz... Franz, the name felt right for some reason. His mind steeled against what darkness might remain, he looked upon the statue, its form, while beautiful (despite the lack of facial features), left him with a sense of revulsion, as though it should not be, as though its very existence was somehow..

"Blasphemous." Yes, the word felt righteous as it left his lips, Franz's voice ringing within his armor, freed from any sort of doubt his mind may have had. His muscles ached, stiff and burdened by his armor, heavy plate atop robes and padded cloth, adorned in icons, parchment, and a heraldry of some sort. Though their exact meaning was somewhat vague, he could not help but feel a sense of great pride, joy, and duty. As he rose, surprised by his own strength, he felt several items swinging from his waist, a few small books, more icons, and a heavy mace to be exact. The books were old, leather bound, and obviously used frequently. A sense of security came over Franz as he flipped through a tome called The Book of Deiwos. Upon his back was slung a pack, and a kite-shield of both wood and metal, painted with the same heraldry that adorned a section of his robes and armor. It depicted a great beast, appearing to be both reptilian and mammalian in nature, being felled by a mailed fist surrounded by holy light.

Turning his attention from his own personal affects, Franz looked to the other occupants of the room, many of them were revolting in body, inhuman monsters or creatures of a more ancient and natural world, a world before man. Those who did not disgust him outright with their appearance, still did not escape suspicion or disdain from his hidden glare and scowl. Even those who seemed trustworthy or of good nature, did not seem all too innocent in his eyes. After all, some force must have brought them to this place, brought him here, for what reason, he could only guess at. Certainly some greater power had seen fit to intervene in the world, perhaps their innocence and purity were to be tested by their maker? Such a thought brought both fear and delight to him, if such was the case, none would find him wanting.But for those who where, Franz would find out himself.

When the Dark Elf awoke herself, everything in her sight was a mashing together of various colors and hues. Her entire body felt like it had fallen asleep and was now woken up, making complicated movement hard. Almost involuntarily, her body began to breathe and stir again of its own accord.

With new found strength, she began rubbing her eyes with her left hand. The world around her began to come into view more and more, her natural night vision giving her a enhanced view of the world around her. It was becoming painstakingly apparent that there was nothing of note or interest where she was looking now. Light, real light, was pulsating from something in front of her body, making the ceiling of drab colors and tasteless symbols irrelevant to her.

She made an effort to pull her body upright, succeeding quickly with that precious blood that had been flowing through her veins for a few minutes. The scenery changed vividly in an instant, assuring her that she was not alone. There were many sitting alongside her, but most did not show signs of life or movement. This place was a hall of death, but after looking for an instant longer she saw just how wrong she was. A few other figures stirred and moved as well, beings of various sizes, races, and equipment. Some were somewhat monstrous, while most had a slim body type. She took a look down at her own static body, noting its shape, size, and barely illuminated color. It was obvious to her that she was very similar in temperament to most present, making her a part of the majority.

The Dark Elf attempted to speak up to greet her supposed compatriots, but all she could manage was a pathetic wheeze. The air here was not pleasant, and though the corpses did not stink the air in the room was lifeless and static. Determined to come into contact with those slowly moving toward the statue, she began to stand up the effort now easier now that her body was back online.

Now standing up right, she took a second to observe the world around her more carefully. Lights came into view a distance away; she could also see and to some degree hear nearby moving water. If that were the case, at least there should be a route to leave this place.

But she shoved that out of her mind for the moment. Her focus was on the statue itself, so out of place with the world around it. Though the statue fit with the rooms style, it seemed like something that shouldn't be in a room of corpses. Using its light to guide her, she took her first step forward. She was immensely curious as to what was contained under the robe she wore; however, the statue and others seemed far more interesting. By the time she arrived, many of the others were there or had come very close to being there. She examined the statue from its backside more closely, but was frustrated to find that it was featureless. One could tell it was a woman and that this statue once had immense quality; now it only slightly hurt her eyes to look at. She sighed in disappointment, before looking at the many now present around the statue.

...Just how many of them were there?

Alyona turned her attention back to those around her. It seemed that others had awakened as well. It seemed strange that so many would wake in a place like this, but surely she had no recollection of how she had gotten there, or anything for that matter. It definitely appeared to be a diverse group though, perhaps they knew each other? Why couldn't she remember anything?

Breaking away from her thoughts, Alyona looked around again, taking in their appearances once more before turning to the statue. Looking at it more closely, the weather had not spared it as much as she had initially thought. It was missing detail. It might as well have been faceless.

Speaking under her breath, "Who is she? Why is it down here?" Her questions turn back towards herself. "Who am I and why am I here?"

Alyona momentarily considered addressing the others, but decided against it. She didn't know who any of them were, so she would wait for them to notice her and react to how they acted.

Franz stood far from the statue, which he found increasingly repulsive (despite the beauty of its form). He stood away from the light, yet was still bathed in it. He stood, with his back to the wall, leaving no opening for any of the other occupants of the room to get the upper hand on him. Still, he turned his eyes from them, and began to read from one of the books he kept on his person, The Book of Deiwos. The many stories, verses, and mantras, put in him a feeling of pride, security, and righteousness.

All of it was so familiar, these stories of redemption, justice, and punishment. The unjust must be punished, the unclean must be purged, the innocent are never above suspicion. Such a sentiment appealed to Franz, as did Deiwos, a god of justice and mercy, deserving of worship, HIS worship. Perhaps thats why the statue filled him with such loathing, it was heretical, blasphemous in its very nature in the eyes of Deiwos. Franz was tempted to destroy the figure with his mace and a prayer to Deiwos, but he would not risk invoking the wrath of some heathen god, not now at least.

With her eyes now open, Verena looked around at the figures who were in here with her. They varied in shapes and sizes, but that wasn't anything surprising. Two things shouldn't look the same, right? Of course not, that would be weird and impractical. There would be no way to tell who was who, and everything would be confusing. There were a few interesting figures, but the majority seemed rather boring. It was a shame, these people probably couldn't keep her entertained for long.

Oh well, they uninteresting seem to die anyway.

Once Verena was done inspecting her peers, she looked at the statue. As beautiful as the statue was, Verena couldn't stand it. No, that wouldn't be accurate. The statue itself was gorgeous, and something she would want personally. It isn't the statue she hated, but what time had done to the precious thing. It had to have had no rival when it was first created, but now time has taken its toll.

Is this the power of time? Does time truly destroy all eventually? Will everybody else in this room be given the same fate as the statue? She was a vampire, but even she feared that one day time might truly be enough.

No matter how far she ran, time was going to catch up with her one day, no matter how far into the future that is.

And this was a thought that bothered her, and one she would rather do without.

Everyone else should have been able to talk; why didn't they? Why did no one say anything, greet each other? How long would they stay in awkward silence before one would take the initiative to address the broader group? How much longer would everyone else be content to remain in this strange silence that Airan felt was unbearable? His own attempts to speak had all failed; it did not understand - other than the fact it simply just couldn't talk. Had this slime lost its ability to speak before its body was granted to him? Was this intentional?

Even as he approached the statue with everyone else, he could not help but feel agonized. The silence was dangerous. It was a sign they did not wish to communicate. That meant mistrust. The occupants of this room mistrusted each other, and that, Airan felt, was dangerous. Mistrust led to paranoia, paranoia led to recklessness and recklessness led to mistakes. Fatal ones. Killings in the name of self defence; any hope for teamwork and cooperation destroyed by the idea that each other was out to get everyone else.

...Come to think about it, maybe it was he who was just paranoid.

As he walked, one step at a time, his helmet's movement the only indication that his gaze was switching between all of the occupants in the room, the silent knight only wanted one thing.

Speak. Make conversation. Do anything to end this unbearable silence.