It's been two hundred years. Two hundred long, aching years, locked away in a dungeon using a powerful seal, a talisman hidden far, far away the only key to your prison. But now, for whatever reason, you're free.

You tumble unceremoniously to the ground, eating the dirt and dust as you collapse onto the sigil engraved in the stone. It's dark and cold, and everything feels like it's eating you alive but also nowhere near vivid enough. As your body adjusts, a voice begins to register before you.

"Stand back." Someone speaks, although not to you. There's the metallic zing of a sword being unsheathed, the sound of uneasy footsteps as you try to push yourself up in the hazy darkness.