The sky hid behind a swirling mass of angry clouds. Sharp cracks of thunder rumbled boldly, deeply over the fifty foot diameter of ruined, sunken earth. As crimson lightening saturated the world with the color of blood, a sentient mind came to consciousness in the midst of utter devastation. There was no memory save the vague familiar trueness that came when the disconnected awareness thought of falling.<br/><br/>The world around it began to fade into focus as heavy lids slid open to reveal bloodshot eyes rolling down from their cranial embrace. They drank greedily of their surroundings, clinging desperately to something that it, that he could know as reality, but who was he? Everything before the elusive feeling of falling was empty. It was as if his being held no identity.. As if he was no one at all. His body was heavy and sluggish and he felt suddenly trapped within his own skin, but it wasn't his skin, though even without memory he knew it well enough; it was his armor, and it was the only reason he survived the collision with the ground.<br/><br/>A crystalline  material, the color of a cloudless blue sky, composed the majority of his battle attire. It was carved and masterfully molded to fit his body. The crystal covered a layer of black adamantine that could be seen through artistically placed gaps in the beautiful blue mineral. Silver threads of Mithril were interlaced throughout and the helmet had a Mithril chain hood that flowed to the shoulders. Two deep eye wholes were all that revealed the person beneath.<br/><br/>In pain, in an absolutely tearing agony, he rolled onto his side. The ground around him was burning. Trees lay collapsed, shattered from his impact. He shouldn't have survived this. A familiar hammer lay sprawled in the dust and dirt a few feet away from him. Another foot farther and he could see something else that he felt he knew; it was a sword, deadly blade burrowed halfway into the ground. Near the edge of his hazy vision was the wall of the crater. It stood tall, dominating the depths of where he lay.<br/><br/>Managing to get to his knees, he disconnected the helmet from the rest of his armor and through it to the ground. Beneath was a handsome man with short chestnut hair that clung to his forehead and emerald pools of crisp green peering about in panic. He struggled to stand, but his feet would not yet be found and he fell painfully to his hands and knees. Thick vomit rose and spilled from him. It was mixed with the gross red of blood and that sight made him all the more nauseous. Another wave of pain and disorientation tried to draw him under, and despite his best efforts to remain conscious and aware, it did.