Grim Ruination, Birth of a Soul (On Hiatus)

The Resurrection

Darris didn't know what to think when he opened his eyes to the night sky. He was flat on his back. Cold and wet dirt covered his back. He was on dirt... not stone. The next thing he noticed was that he still couldn't see out of his right eye. He felt his face; a hole was where his eye would've been. Still gone. Then he noticed his skin. Or what was left of it.

His body was partially decayed. Bits of skin were torn away, revealing corroded muscle and veins that were no longer filled with blood. He was a walking corpse. He was alive... if you would even consider being undead 'alive'.

Darris sat up. He was in a graveyard. Oddly fitting. No other undead were around, just a plethora of graves all around him.  He stood up. He could move freely, regardless of the fact that his blood no longer ran through his body. Next to him lay several of his belongings from his home, or from his bunk in the guildhall.

A small lockbox whose lock had rusted away to nearly nothing.

A hand drawn picture of him, his mom, dad, brother and sister. An arrow pointed to the girl, at the other end it read 'me'. Darris smiled at his sister's drawing.

Then there was a pen, covered in dirt that stuck to it. On the side, in fancy lettering, read 'for fame and honour'. The motto of the Fame Guild.
Next was his guild badge. A small circular piece of cloth with two silver stars pinned to it, signifying his rank.

He picked up the lockbox and pulled it open, the rusted lock crumbled with little effort. Inside was a well preserved, but still weathered monochrome photo of him, Trent, Isak, Elrik, and Tempest. The first photo they'd taken once squad 12 was formed. And, to Darris's knowledge, the only one.

Under the photo was a small golden necklace. He remembered it as a gift from Tempest. He gave it to him for his birthday. The first one since joining the guild. And the only one. The charm of a golden sword dangled from the thin chain.

Without thinking he unclipped the chain and put it around his neck. The necklace was surprisingly warm for having been locked away in a box.
Darris closed the box after having looked through its contents.

Finally, there was a unique dagger laying on the side of his grave. Trent's dagger he'd given to Darris. The dagger had not worn at all in the time it was placed there. The blade of the dagger was thin and smooth, at the bottom two smaller bladed prongs stuck from the hilt guard. Across the wooden hilt was the number 12 written in elvish script.

Darris picked up the dagger and tucked it within his tattered shirt.

In front of where he'd woken up was a gravestone, partially crumbled over so many years. However the carvings were still legible.

Darris Grimhul
8th of Star's Passing- 24th of Celestial's Passing
522-546
"An honourable hero"

A faint smile spread across Darris's face. He had been hailed as a hero for what he'd done in life. Then a voice spoke from behind him.

"Are you done gawking at your own grave?" They asked from behind him.

Darris quickly turned around to see a figure sitting atop one of the gravestones. His skin was pale grey. He wore oddly fine clothing, however it wasn't very well kept. He wore a black tunic with silver trimming along the edges. Over it was a black coat with many different symbols lining the sleeves in a mix of gold and silver. Then, over one of his shoulders was an emerald green cowl with golden silk along the edges.

His eyes were the same emerald green colour. His ears came to a dull point away from his head; and his hair was smooth and pitch black. The locks of hair reflecting the silvery moonlight from the sky.