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[Darmug Streea]

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How long has it been now? Weeks? Months? No... Years, it must have been years. The day when he was cast into oblivion, it would haunt this drow for the rest of his life.

The void, The dark and loving void, That which has held me in its embrace for so long. Why, why would it do this to me? Throw me back into the clutches of life, an insult to its greatest death knight. You could hear the voices softly at first, but growing steadily louder and louder. The eleven tongue that burned my ears, louder and louder until I could no longer enjoy my damnation. I could feel as a rift was opening in Oblivion’s void it was beckoning me to it, beckoning me to leave this place. Flashes of the necromantic city skittered through my mind. The rift had opened and as it took me from the sheltering, caring, loving touch… no grasp of Oblivion. I was born anew, my drowish skin reborn, my bones were encased in my flesh, I was no longer a death-knight. I was free.