[@Daemanis]

An ocean of pale tide fills your vision, but is not wet to the touch, but warm and inviting. As you toss slightly from your position, a small cadre of pipes fill each of your antecubital fossas, exsanguinating your slightly shriveled biceps. Adorning your umbilicus is a verdant stone shimmering through your white gown. To your horror, shadows loom over the blanche curtain to your stony makeshift bed. You instinctively bolt, wings fluttering away from the booming greeting into a dimlit room, housing two strangers. 

One with magical blade in hand, but smaller to the smiling Goliath, weaponless, 15 feet away.