Darkness was all that surrounded him, was all that he knew right now. He didn’t remember how he had gotten to such a strange place; all he could remember was the smell of smoke and pain. He felt as though he had been drifting in this space for an eternity before there was a sudden light and a voice. The voice spoke of Reina, Lady of Mercy and of healing a man, but who could this man be? Could it be him? Was this place limbo? The light grew brighter and brighter, until it overtook him and began to lift him up. Salas’s pale green eyes snapped open, and he jerked upward, his hand flying to hilt of his sword before he realized he was in no immediate danger. Then an ancient voice spoke above him.

"You should be fine now. This place is safe, and your wounds are no more. You are fortunate to have survived; none others shared that fate.” 

Salas looked up to see that the voice belonged to an ancient-looking woman with wrinkles as deep as an ocean. Her gravelly voice definitely matched her appearance. She had a hunch to her that made her look small even when standing, but despite her appearance, this woman had a power about her. Salas looked himself up and down, too focused on examining his own body to catch the crone’s next words. He was completely fine, even his scars seemed fainter, like shadows of themselves. His armor was scorched and torn in places from his near escape from Anaxim Forest. He sat there on the ground for a moment, trying to remember what had happened to bring him to this place, all the while looking around the area; his confusion increased as he saw the warlock he had met just a short time ago in Anaxim and the witch who had been with him and next to the witch was a green dragon.

[i]Salas stood before the hulk of a man known as Wyrmslayer, ready to at least slow him down. He had guarded himself against his ranged attacks by raising his shield up in front of himself. That only left the option of using his saber and a dagger in his offhand to try and get behind him in order to strike at any weak points he could find in the man’s armor. He was formulating his plan of attack when the man simply began to walk away from him; he had taken far too long in his formulations apparently. Salas made to follow the man, but was blocked by more of the crusaders, who were hellbent on destroying the Anaxim Forest. There two of them bearing down on him, swords drawn. Salas drew his saber in his left hand and his dagger in a reverse grip in his right. The crusaders surged forward at him; Salas parried the first crusader’s blade and managed to escape the second’s with a slash down his arm. A grunt of pain escaped him as his drove his dagger into the side of the crusader that cut him. He yanked the dagger free from the man’s side, causing a stream of blood to issue forth from the wound.

Salas swung his saber at the first crusader, who blocked it and kicked Salas in the stomach, forcing him away and onto his knees. The second crusader lay on the ground, clutching his side just as Salas clutched his stomach with his right hand. The first crusader came forward, swinging his sword in an arch from over his head down at Salas, who took a knife from his harness and threw it at the man’s hands in a clumsy fashion do to his disorientation from being kicked. The knife cut across the back of the man’s hand, causing him to release the grip he had on his sword partially. This allowed Salas to swing upward and knock the sword off course enough to strike the dirt next him by inches. Salas jumped upward in the crusader’s moment of confusion and slammed his head into the crusader’s nose, knocking him back away from his weapon. Salas found his dagger and resheathed it as he walked toward the crusader with a broken nose. Salas stood over the crusader with his blade poised to strike at the man’s neck, intending to finish him clean and fast. As he started to bring his blade down, though, a sudden heat washed over him a split second before a fire spell hit the ground a few feet from him and exploded in a wave of flames. He was knocked to the ground, burnt by magical fire. The last things he remembered were the thundering footsteps of an army and a shadow over him before he passed out from the pain of being burnt over most of his body.[/i]

The shadow he saw must have been the ancient woman who now stood over him and had told him he was healed now. She must have also been the one to heal him. He didn’t know where he was though; he just knew he was in the company of his savior, the warlock, his witch companion, and a great green dragon. At least he was no longer on a battlefield, but he didn’t know how safe he was in these people’s company, as he barely knew them at all. Salas closed his eyes and concentrated on the magical energy within him and then opened his eyes as a wind picked up around him. The wind began forming sound patterns and then spoke for Salas, sounding wispy and high pitched.

“Where are we exactly? What happened with the battle?”