Anywhere But

Tycondrius awoke.

It was dark... too dark for even his eyes to see. 

That was concerning.

The rage and hatred returned to him in an instant.

He was in a battle-- a great and difficult and *supremely* frustrating battle.

Was it over?

Impossible. He didn't remember winning.

Even if he *did* win, he needed concrete affirmation of the fact.

He willed his body to move...

With... *great* willpower... and a great deal of negative emotions, he WILLED his body to move!

It couldn't end with his impotence! 

He had DRAGONS to slay!

Those hideous, scale-ridden abominations were a BLIGHT upon the Realm! 

And he wouldn't rest until--

Hm...

He couldn't feel his body. 

There was... no connection?

No connection at all? 

What the--

Was he... dead?

Did he *wake up* fucking dead? 

That was a poor fucking joke. 

No.