The first thing she noticed were the voices.

They were muffled at first, the throbbing of the slowing blood rushing past her ears stifling the sound. Curos' fierce expression, crouched over her with deadly anger in his eyes, was growing hazy, and the pain he inflicted was brief and surprisingly dull. The blade locked within her breast was cold for the time she felt it. Deep within her chest a scream rose and was choked off as the world fell.

The voices became louder now.

Blinking away disorientation Umolka reached up toward her head, pressing her gloved left hand to her temple. Considering the last she remembered she was feeling surprisingly lucid, though now she found she was standing and in a very loud space. The druid gasped as her vision cleared and the grayed expanse before her became visible. Here there were more people than the druid had ever seen in Waterdeep or Tyrtauros -- throngs of people in every style of dress with every tone of skin were clustered together, crying out to above. The cacophony of hundreds of regional tongues was just as overwhelming as the sheer number of bodies, but she found that with concentration she could understand what the crowds were yelling, regardless of their languages. They were names of gods, prayers of the devout. She was dead, she realized, and was here to wait for her goddess.

"...huh. Death is less painful than I thought it would be." The amused woman pressed her blackened fingers to her preciously sundered breastplate, whole and undamaged now. The pain of loss that had driven her to commit the acts that had, in turn, caused her death at the blade of Lance* Curos Durionalix was nearly gone, fading from the druid's core being. She raised her eyes toward the 'sky' as it were, an endless expanse of the same shades of gray that was underfoot as well. The calling of the spirits to their deities, and the responses she sometimes saw, fascinated her as she began to walk in an indeterminable direction. Motes of light would gather above and form celestials, taking the souls of certain gods to their afterlife when enough worshipers were amassed.

She came to a stop after observing an Djinn of some sort spirit off worshipers of the goddess Akadi, her eyes drifting toward a group of people she could recognize as kin. They called to Talona in many ways - one, a spirit of decided serpentine and human origin, called out to her as "Sss'thasine'ss". With a smile crossing her face Umolka began to approach the small group.

About to raise her voice with theirs, an excruciating tugging began at the very core of her being, twisting what would have once been her bowels. Confused and just a bit frightened, the first emotions other than curiosity and peace she'd encountered in this plane, Umolka covered her face. The serpentine talontar cast her a curious look before returning to his prayer. The tug became more urgent and more powerful, until the spirit thought she might be torn in twain. Confusion gave way to anger, her powerful memories attached to the dangerous emotion resurfacing to the front of her mind.

With an anguished cry, the Thayan clenched her fist and opened her eyes, ablaze now with fury. This close to her deity, and she knew now that Curos had brought her back to be raised -- the dragon-man would do all he could to make her life and afterlife miserable. She could resist the summons, she knew. But if Curos wanted her back, she would return. Revenge is a sweet thing. She allowed the magic to spirit her soul from the Fugue plane, and the voices were no more.

Instead there was stifling silence.

"...ah-...ah!" Coughing and gasping, Umolka bolted upright and pressed her palms to either side of her head. The sounds of the death plane were gone now, and pain coursed behind her eyes with each new beat of her heart. A deep exhalation through her nose and the druid dared to open her eyes. The room was painfully bright, and the decorating here expensive. "The nine hells...", she mumbled softly to herself in Mulan as she worked to regain her breath. She lacked clothing she realize, though was too tired to cover her tattooed body from any possible prying eyes. Resting her head slowly back onto the silken pillows, she glances to her bedside to see the silent Raith watching her. The Banite watched her with bright green eyes. She suddenly did feel very naked as she stared at him fearfully.

"You're awake, good."

Clasping her hands over her cheeks once more, the talontar wept.