[center][h1][color=39b54a]H E L V E T E[/color][/h1][/center]
[right][hr][color=gray][b]The Well of Valdis[/b]
12th Day of Autumn, 1088 AD[/color][hr][/right]
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Dry lungs that had not tasted the noxious air in decades were suddenly and violently filled. Desperate intakes of the putrid atmosphere pumped into that ragged body, dragging it kicking and screaming back into the violated world of the living. Rebirth was not a gentle thing for Helvete Solon. It was not the spawning of a new life but rather the rejection of one's peace in the afterlife, forcing it back into a damned plane of existence that it did not wish to live in. 

Helvete's bloodshot eyes snapped open as he took in another deep, choking breath. There was a pressure on top of him. Something keeping him from drawing in a full breath that made Helvete panic. In that brief moment of terror, Solon let out a horrific, bestial roar. A sound so ferocious and inhuman that one would never expect it left the lips of a man. He thrashed against the carcasses of long dead man-things, rolling one over his grim-caked face so that it's broken body was dashed against a nearby flesh mound. Solon struggled against his lifeless adversaries, fighting tooth and nail to free himself from that prison of corpses that pinned him down.

In that brief rage, Solon felt the visceral phantom pain of his final moments. That strike of a spear in his heart played within his soul and within his gut. Like some psychotic theater production of the mind, Helvete saw the flames that consumed him right down to the seared marrow. The bodies piled atop him brought back brutal memories of chains and ropes pulling down on his limbs, pinning him in place as an awful play was acted out on his ravaged form.

These memories appeared for but a few, precious seconds. They faded when Helvete managed to wriggle himself free, his lungs allowed to suck in panic-ridden breaths once again. The blessing of freedom allowed Solon to calm his raging heart. Helvete rose into a crouch, his fingers grasping at a rotting woman's hair for support. No longer in danger of suffocating, he could finally take note of his surroundings. 

This...this was not his home.

There were no trees. No grass, no fields, no animals. No chirping of the song bird and no lapping of river waters over cool stones. Fields of colorful flowers and rolling hills were replaced by crucified bodies and piles of the dead that reached into the sky. High walls of stone surrounded Solon on every side. Solon immediately felt a rush of anxiety and claustrophobia. The stench of excrement and rotting flesh made Helvete's guts churn, and he felt a distinct desire to vomit. No food rose up in his throat to join the hot, acidic bile that Helvete choked back down.

[color=39b54a]"What is this place-space?"[/color] The druid whispered, his voice cracking.

Other sounds reverberated off the walls and knolls of mortal remains. More voices, much like his own. Solon was not the only thing alive in that hellscape. Instead of a rush of joy at this revelation, all he felt was fear and terror. It was a deeply rooted instinct. [color=39b54a]"Man-things."[/color] He muttered quietly. Deciding it was best to retreat, Solon slowly climbed down the pile of corpses he had awoken on. Nearly slipping several times, it took the crouching forest dweller some time to reach a more stable ground. The 'floor' of more tightly packed dead was easier to traverse.

There, at the bottom of his mountain of carcasses, Helvete found something strangely familiar. A pulsating light, hidden underneath a blown out torso. Swiftly he reached down into the pooled blood, grasping the source of the light. It was sharp and hard, like a jagged rock. Solon tugged at it and found that it was firmly stuck in place. The energy that radiated through his hand on contact with it only enhanced Helvete's curiosity. Glancing about in search of dreaded man-things, Solon began to dig. He drug away bodies and broke at flesh and bone until he had cleared away the surrounding rubbish from his desired object.

It was a dull green gemstone, broken and dirtied, and it looked to be attached to something. Helvete pulled the object from the ground, wrestling free a long, wooden staff. Seven feet in length and with a shaft darkened and seared by flames, Solon felt an odd comfort with it in his hands. A comfort, and...a power. Strength that his aged arms did not know filled his body. A singular word played in his mind as he looked down at the tool. [color=39b54a]"Oakheart..."[/color] The staff's name, perhaps? An incantation of some sort? Or was that [i]his[/i] name? Solon was entirely unsure.

His gaze drifted back to the pit he had dug out. Another object had been knocked free from the tightly packed sea of cadavers. Helvete inspected the satchel. The leather was worn and stained with blood, and several holes dotted it's surface. Rummaging through the pack, he found shards of broken glass and- oddly enough- birdseed scattered about inside of it. Two vials of the seed remained intact, though the rest must've been shattered or lost.

As he began to empty the bag of useless things, Helvete discovered another item that piqued his interest. An amulet of silver, rusted and grimy, with a chain that looked like it had seen better days. Solon could make out what appeared to be letters upon it's surface, though they were too scratched and damaged to be made out. This item, like the staff before it, carried traces of power. It was far, far fainter within the necklace, however. Helvete drapped the satchel over his shoulder and the amulet about his neck, happy with his findings.

Now he needed to get out of here. 

Helvete attempted to sneak around toward the exterior of the well, planning to search for an exit. His awkward, doubled over gait made for a slow and quiet crawl through the fields of fallen men. Fate's hand was as cruel as ever, however; for on his way forward, Solon found himself face to face with one of those man-things he had heard earlier.

He reacted quickly, bringing the pilfered staff around so that he could hold it defensively before him. [color=39b54a]"Stay away-back!"[/color] Solon hissed. [color=39b54a]"No fight-hurt. Fight-hurt bad, very bad."[/color] 

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