[@thewizardguy][@supertinyking][@Gentlemanvaultboy]

Damien wasn't mentally or physically prepared for Ozo's method of transport, and he gasped and freaked as Ozo lashed him with his tongue and yanked the necromancer gracelessly into his gullet. Terrified, the human struggled but was too weak to wriggle out of Ozo's insides. Fortunately, it wasn't long he had to endure this state of hell before he was dumped out, fairly dry, on a beach. 

Damien fell forward, then flipped onto his back and kicked and scrambled at the sand beneath him to back away. He glared at ozo accusingly, heart racing, before the fish-man took off again. Damien's nose wrinkled and he gnashed his teeth in a promise of retribution that he'd think better of before Ozo would get back. 

With Ozo quickly gone again, Damien had no idea what-the-hell kind of magic he used, Damien stood up and collected himself. Then, as his eyes turned on the stunning scene of desolation and alien wilderness, it hit him. What was at first a natural wonder and analytical curiosity began to be invaded by a quiet distraction. Subtly, Damien began to lose his concentration, his awareness, and his focus. An alarm went off in his mind as he felt disturbingly different. He was alone... Asmodeus had wanted him here, but... his lord wasn't watching anymore... where was he again? Why had he come here? Damien's mind began to fog, and he was moments away from wandering off, until he realized, "Hey. Wait a minute. This isn't normal." 

"No!" He called out to his unseen enemy furiously. Damien refused to be dominated, nothing was more infuriating, and few individuals carried as much hate and rage than this one little man. He fought to remember as it pressed to overtake his mind. 

As he strained to focus, he recalled a time when he had delt with this kind of trick before. Dark sorcerers used to protect their knowledge and their works by placing protection spells on their tomes. Any fool unfortunate enough to try to read it would be captured in a deadlock of circular reading, where the same sentence just repeated again and again without the victim realizing it until they utterly read themselvees to death. The spell was ancient and lethal and had been banned for many ages. It took a magic user with a strong will to escape the trap, by forcing himself to read past the circle until the trapped lines were finished. And thus Damien forced himself to keep thinking, to hold on to some memory, anything, until the influence passed. Still fighting, he reached down into his shirt and pulled out Sariel's ring and squeezed it in his hand as tightly as he could. The pain of the etched leaves in its decorations cut into his flesh, a thin thread of his connection with reality to help keep him aware of himself. 

Sariel... Damien grit his teeth as a tear unconsciously beaded at the corner of his eye. He'd see the world that took her from him burn. 

Fortified, Damien began to regain his mental strength. He had won. Shakily, he released the bloody ring and took a few steps toward the jungle at the edge of the beach. The isolation was still there, but he was better able to analyze it now. What kind of magic was at work here? He looked out over the plants and fungal growths and searched with his soul sight for any sign of a spirited being. He could see any twinkle up to a mile or so into the jungle if there were any. 

The lack of order of this placed was an affront to the god of law and incensed Damien. How dare it pretend to isolate itself and act on its own. he would see it subjugated one way or another.