[i]Drip. Drip. Drip.[/i] This is the very first sound. The first sound that reaches his ears. Finally, he has awoken...barely. He feels a slight warm liquid constantly meeting with his forehead every time he hears it. [i]Drip.[/i] His body finally feels movement again as he slowly, ever so cautiously sits up. [i]Drip. Drip.[/i] It angered him to the point that he lifted his massive metal arm as his forefinger met with his forehead. He drags it across and lowers it in front of his eyes. [i]Blood. It was blood, dripping on him.[/i] He looks up, confused. An awful expression grows across his face as he sees nothing when he looks up. He looks to his sides, only to see nothing. He looks forward. [i]Stairs. Pathways. Going where?[/i] He struggles to stand up, but manages to do so as he pushes with his knees. While doing so, he notices that he was in a disc-shaped platform with a foot tall edge decorated with spikes of all sorts of sizes and variety. In the interior of said platform was at least a three feet deep pool of blood. It certainly wasn't his, no. For all he could remember was a lovely feast back home on the Deathworld. He takes a step forward to see his weaponry and even his own Wolf-skull helm dipped in the same pool of blood he had been lying in. "Bloody hell..." He reaches down to his helmet and tries to shake some of the warm redness off its interior. The exterior he was not content with cleaning. He places it over his face and takes a deep, long and hard breath as he reaches for his Bloodraven and his Crozous Arcanum. He feels his sides, ensuring that he still held his necessary positions and Fang of Morkai. He finally takes a few more steps forward, now leaning over the edge of the blood pool. [i]Bottomless.[/i] He shifts his gaze across the several platforms that loomed over a bottomless pit. There was no memory in the Wolf Priest as to how he got inside such a terrible place. His first thought was that he had been possessed by a Witch, but quickly killed the idea, as his long and hard service with his Chapter would never allow such tyranny. Then, it hits him. [i]The Wolftime...[/i] Farin the Annihilator, with every inch of his massive anatomy, leaves the blood pool and slowly walks across the stairs and pathways. They seemed to have been made of solid bone. He continues forward, now believing that he had a reason to be wherever he was. Perhaps it was destined. Perhaps this was the accursed Magnus The Red's doing, perhaps this was fate and he was to find long lost Leman Russ...or perhaps it is something entirely bigger. (Open.)