For the first few years, you did not know anything about anything at all. You lay in darkness, pressed in from all ides. Beneath the cold ground, you were entombed. You did not think, you did not feel. It was as if you did not exist at all. All but for one tiny, glimmering star. A pinprick of light that had once been a burning nova. It resisted the darkness, threw back the cold, defiant, it burned even when nothing else did. And slowly, so very slowly, the rest of you started to burn as well.

The first true concept that you understood was ''cold''. It felt cold under the earth. Then, there was ''wet'' the dirt pressing against your skin was wet and cold. You were not quite sure why this was important, but it was. After this, more things flowed to your mind, as if you had opened some door deep in your soul, memories flashed before your eyes, dancing and intertwining together into one long, confused blur.

You remembered...

Fire.__

Fire was crackling and burning, the edges of your robes trailed ash and smoke as you staggered under the attack. Magic screamed around you as your shield was ripped in two, you snarled defiance, the staff in your hand glowing with power. You roared, throwing a kinetic wave of force that spun the enemy soldiers from their feet, they toppled, crashing to the ground, and you rose.

The image ended, you were under the ground again, confusion swamped you. You felt as if you were in two places at once, the memories of the past piling into your mind. You pressed your eyes tightly closed, moaning in pain as another memory burst like a bubble before you...

Pain.

Pain raged through your body, along with numbness and shock. You took a step back, staggering as your left side was torn away in a bloody mess. Your staff spun to the ground, along with the arm that held it,your black robes now slicked with your own blood. Your heart beat in your chest, and you could feel coldness gathering under your skin. Death. Death was coming now. You spat blood from your mouth, staggering forwards, the man who had killed you, Rothan, the High King, watched coldly. An enchanted blade was in his hand, the same one which had carved you so neatly in two.

He looked at you, his eyes cold and deep.

"Begone, monster." He said, the words simple, but deep and powerful, striking at your very core. You felt something, something petty as you glared up at him. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. As your legs buckled, your blood staining the ground, you looked at the man who had killed you.

"But....but I was so close..."

Rothan could have spoken. Could have replied. But he said nothing. once more, the good king had vanquished the evil wizard. Your last sight was your forces in full retreat, the army of the king cheering.

Back in the dirt again. With the cold and the worms. Your eyes were pressed tightly cold, but you felt a vicious little knot of something in your core. Like a shard of metal buried in loose dirt, it was something that was cold and hard and sharp. Your name.

Raveron.

You were Raveron. Rveron the Black, Raveron the Dark, Raveron the All Powerful! You laughed, and then stopped as you felt the dirt filling your mouth, your body tried to cough and splutter, which only made it worse, and you gagged on the scent of the earth.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Okay, no more evil laughter while you were still buried in the ground. Bad mistake. Rookie play. Dramatic reveal that you had cheated death _first _then evil laughter. Never the other way around.

Even with the taste of the dirt on your tongue, you could not help but feel your lips curl into a cruel and cold smile, the last of your memories returning now. You cursed the name of Rothan, the High King. That man had been a maniac who had slain you in combat, breaking your dreams of an orderly world, and consigning you to the ground. But you had not been content to remain there. As the life had left you, the final spark of your soul had latched onto your body, refusing to be parted, and over time, it had grown stronger, slowly reanimating you piece by piece.

Now, at last, the job had been completed.

You were alive.

You wanted to laugh. You wanted to dance. You wanted to sack a small town so you could hear their cries of woe and misery!

Wait, was that last thing a generic thing you did when you were happy, or was it just you?

Ah fuck it, who cared. You were alive.

You were alive!

More than that, in fact. Your grin turned feral as your mind cast itself outwards, finding the bodies of the slain lying with you in the dirt. So many of them, reduced to simple bones now, but that didn't matter. Not for you. Idiots. Had they really thought they could just leave the remains of your army here to rot? You were honestly kind of insulted. You were a necromancer! Had they really thought they'd put you down so easily?

Well, you would show them. Many of the bodies were beyond use, but others could still be turned to your purpose. You murmured a quiet word, which quickly became more cursing as the dirt filled your mouth again. After a moment, your hand broke the surface of the ground, filthy mud and water cascaded from your emaciated body as you hauled yourself out of the ground. It was all very dramatic and appropriate.

If you ignored the string of profanity, anyway.

"Gods' damned dirt getting into my mouth! Chocking me the second I come back to life again! Fuck! Fuck! I hate the earth and everything born from it! By all the gods, there better be no worms in there!"

It was...not the most necromaner-y words to start your new unlife. Aware of this, and feeling the spectral judgement of your mentors and peers, your threw your head back and launched into a traditional evil laugh. The wild exultation pounding through you, your blood crashed in your ears, and a mad joy earthed itself in your body, finding release through your cackling laughter.

All in all, very solid evil laughter. But for extra points, you had to pair it with an appropriate threat. Luckily, you knew just what to say.

"Rothan, you old fool, do you see now? I still live! You failed! You came so far, but you failed in the end! I am Raveron! I sacked nations! I slew dragons! And you thought that you could stop me? Fool, you're not even worthy to lick my boots!"

You raised a hand, dark energy crackled along your fingers, earthing itself in the ground. Moments later, the first of your skeletons began to clamber from the mud, less dramatic than your own escape, but still quite theatrical if you were honest. There were hundreds, thousands of them buried here, the remnants of the army you had once led. They had served you well in life, and now, they would serve you in death. A few thousand skeletons would go a long way towards helping you to rebuild your forces.

Then you laughed again. It was a good, maniacal laugh, with plenty of evil cackling that your mentors would have really approved of. It went on for quite some time, probably more than was decent if you were honest. But you didn't much care at that point. You just wanted to laugh,to breath, to exist. You could feel the cold against your skin, you could feel the wetness of the fabric you were wearing. You were alive, by all the gods that could ever exist, you were alive.

You had sacked cities. You had killed heroes. You had slain dragons.

And now you were back.

You were back!

And suddenly, something heavy hit the ground behind you. You froze, your back tingled with ice. Survival instincts happily reminded you that you now had flesh and bone again by blurring in your mind as loud as they could. Something big uncurled as you looked around. Something scaled. Something very angry.

Ancient reptilian eyes sparked with recognition and malice. You felt your heart beating. A sense of great unfairness descended upon you once more.

"But...but that's cheating..."

You had slain dragons...

Dragons had very long memories., and access to magic which could help them to predict the future.

Another dragon descended from the heavens, then a third, a fourth, a fifth.

An elder dragon, bigger than the others landed before you. Its vast shadow covered the sky, casting you in darkness as you looked up, and up, and up. It was truly ancient, glaring down at you as if you had personally offended it. Vaguely, you remembered the same dragon, young then, suffering under your spells.

"Well..." You managed to croak. "That's just not fair at all."