I remember nothing of my life, except for the very moment that it ended. Screaming that is not my own rings in my ears. Light glints off a blue shield. Movement catches the corner of my eye and I turn to see the head of a mace arcing towards me. Then darkness. I remember how curious it was to actually feel my brain. The sensation of it there in the darkness. To feel that fractured portion of my skull penetrating into parts where it didn’t belong. Then I saw.. nothing, save my private thoughts and the realization that I was dead. Drifting in that which lies in between life and death my senses failed me There was only darkness, and silence, and a thought. Silently whispering from the void l fixate on three words. Alea Iacta Est. What does it mean? The language is foreign to me. Is this a place? Is this a person? Why am I even thinking about this? I do not know. I just know that whatever it is, I must seek it out because this is where my destiny lies. Time has no meaning. I feel cold.
That’s right, I feel cold. Something is happening. Consciousness is returning. Sound, touch, smell all creep in from the edges of my mind and overwhelm me. I open my eyes. Shadows are dancing on the wall cast by the dull flame of a nearly expired torch. I’m in a vault of some kind lying on a hard stone slab. My bones protest loudly as I sit up. I can walk, but things don’t feel right. Seeing stairs leading up I shamble to the surface and into the cold night air. To my surprise I see a zombie standing there, silhouetted by the moonlight. My movement catches his eye but I am not frightened even as he turns to face me. A dull guttural rasp, “Ahh.. I was beginning to think you would never wake up. Report to the church. There is much work to be done,” stretching a bony finger down the trail before me. My mind hasn’t caught up with my senses, so I start limping towards the church. I look down at my arms. The flesh is putrid and ashen, large parts of skin are completely rotted away exposing the bone. Thoughts start to materialize; I have lost everything. No.. I didn’t lose it, it was taken from me, yet I don’t know what I had. I loved somebody deeply, but I don’t know who it was or even how I know this. When I think about it all I can feel is… is… like an echo… of something imprinted on my soul. It raises within me the burning desire for vengeance, but I have no idea against whom. I find myself standing before a church. The building itself is in ruin, on the verge of collapse. I raise my hands to push open the decaying wooden doors and only then do I realize that I am holding something. I see that I have a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Dull, rusted, and fragile these instruments aren’t worthy of an old beggar living in the sewers. I look at them and I feel inspired because in spite of the fact that I have had everything taken from me, I can look down at these pathetic tools and say that they are mine. They are the tools from which I will create a new existence. The door swings open slowly, with an eerie creak. I sheath my sword and walk inside…
