Darkness.
Pain.
Those were the last two thoughts that crossed Revsal’s mind as he lay bleeding near the base of a waterfall in the African jungle. He looked down to his right side and watched as the precious life-blood seeped from his side around his paw. The arrow protruding from the otter’s gut had was large and serrated, designed to intentionally cause agony and suffering in the victims last moments. Movement rustled in the nearby foliage, Revsal’s head whipped around causing fireworks to explode before his eyes with the intense pain that was caused. He looked up and into the distorted face of a Gianna soldier, his reptilian visage partially obscured beneath the hideous mask worn by the shook troops wore to frighten villagers into submission. The salamanders face split in what could only be a twisted grin. Giannans were known for their joy in causing pain to others, this was certainly no exception, and the enemy’s breath quickened audibly as he witnesses his prey, here and at his mercy. The salamander raised the war club he carried above his head, and then there was nothing except darkness, and pain.
Darkness. Revsal was alone, drifting in an endless void where thought alone resided. “Well this sucks. No angles, no demons, no people. What the hell am I gonna do now?” Revsal thought to himself as contemplated his surroundings disappointment flooding through him. However he did not have much time to continue his train of thought...the pain came. Fire lanced through his side, shooting up his back and across his chest contracting his muscles along the way. His body tried to contort itself in a subconscious effort to escape from the pain and protect itself, but he quickly found that he had been tied rather cruelly at the wrists and ankles. The thick raw rope dig into his flesh life-blood matting the fur on his arms and legs, already beginning to go numb. Terrified of the unknown, for he was either blind or blindfolded, Revsal heaved on the ropes that held him spread eagled on the rocky ground attempting to break free of his captors, only to have someone mutter something foreign above him. A great weight was then placed on his chest and hips as though something massive was holding him down. He felt a hand on his side near the arrow and then felt heat. Revsal barely had time to think on the significance of the warmth when a red hot knife was plunged into his side. A scream like none he had ever heard before tore its way through his chest and out his throat carrying with it all his pain, fear, and subtexted with an absolute desire to die. Burning flesh and smoke were the only things registering on his senses, which fueled his fear upon realization that it was him burning. Someone began pulling cruelly on the jagged arrow in his side, causing even more damage to his already shredded muscles and delicate intestines. The pain seared through his side and into his head, till there was nothing but the pain. He writhed and bucked, attempting to throw his captors, but all he succeeded in doing was cause himself more pain. A small gentle voice whispered into his ear words that were not understood, but the quiet nature of them was disconcerting. Revsal barely had time to think ‘This is it, death has come for me’ when the arrow was ripped visciously from his side and allowing the life-blood to pump rhythmically from his now gaping wound and soak the ground, and the darkness took him yet again.
Revsal felt like he was in a waking nightmare, all he could think about was the pain, it was his existence, his reality. The times he was conscious were few an all he could remember was the pain. He had the feeling that time was passing by like a herd of sheep in a neighboring field, slowly and inexorably, and that his captors were ever present. Occasionally when he rose to a level of awareness he could, he began to heave on his restraints in attempt to break free or at least loosen their grip on him before he would pass out again. Yet every time he tried a nearby voice called out and a thick liquid tasting of him yet burning like alcohol was shoved down his throat and darkness would take his senses again. Finally there came a time where he awoke blinking into sunlight streaming in through a smoke whole in a tent. The pain was there as ever but dimmed to where it did not consume him. Birds were heard in the distance, but not he beautiful song and friendly chirps that were common to his native land, but loud squawks and indignant brays of birds that he had never heard before. A nearby shout split his skull like and ice-pick, he looked around and noted a female sitting nearby on a reed mat. She was a small marsupial from the look of her, probably no more than dozen seasons old. ‘Some species of kangaroo most likely’ he thought to himself. His inspection was interrupted by the abrupt arrival of two males apparently of the same species. The one first in the tent was obviously a warrior, from his armor and athletic build to the small buckler made for close combat and the spear he carried, every inch said he knew how to handle himself and, from the look of the scars on his arms and chest, probably several others as well. An interesting addition to the armor were spikes strapped to the feet and tail, turing the average soldier into a veritable moving weapon. Though these were not any designs or species he had seen before. ‘Who are they? Where am I? How do I escape?’ The obvious question rolled around inside his head like a child's rattle. The warrior barked something at him which he did not understand. A harsh barking language like something heard in tribes that had stuck to their shamanistic and primitive ways rather than join the commonwealth and benefit from all that the society offered. The second individual was quiet old however, his fur a silvery grey, and whiskers drooping. He wore a long and unremarkable brown robe that was simple in its function and design, more like a sack with holes for the head and arms than any kind of real clothing that was manufactured in the commonwealth. He carried a long walking stick, on which he leaned heavily a further testament to his age and frailty.
“Good morning young man, how are you feeling?”