There's a few moments of silence, as he explains his story, before one of them, a hunched over man in a cloak, starts laughing, slowly, at first, then louder and harder, everyone turning to watch him is confusion. "Heh, hehe, hehehe, You think that is bad?" he asks, in what sounds like a thick, Russian accent. "I never stopped dying. I just recover, slightly faster. Everitt, the Ever-Dying, they call me. Heh, what I wouldn't give to make it just<em>stop.</em>" His cloak shifts aside, a little, as he takes a long drink from his bottle; Draiss can see the swirling, twisting, constantly decaying, exploding, and regrowing flesh beneath the cloak. Even his face is a mix of bleeding sores and growing tumors, constantly being swept away to begin again. "It can always be worse."<br/><br/>Silence holds for a moment longer, before Cayden breaks the silence. "Well, that was certainly depressing. But hardly what we gathered here, for," he says, as he claps his hands, to get everyone's attention back. "As most of us know, we hold this meeting to remind ourselves that we're the only ones in this entire place, excepting companions, of course, who can truly understand what our followers go through, and to discuss ideas on how to actually do something to improve their lot."