Opening Scene: The cracked and weathered plain stretches to the horizon,
vast and without distinguishing features. While the ground reflects white
hot back to the sun, it is not the white glare of a salt plain, for salt
would have indicated that water had once been present, and it was quite
impossible to imagine that anything had ever been alive in this blasted
wasteland. No scrub trees or cacti dotted the horizon, just mile after mile
of desolate nothingness. Most striking of all on the plain, a lone dark
figure trudges through the dust, sauntering without purpose or sanity where
he clearly does not belong. But his gait does not show the desperation of
thirst or depravation, but rather an unhurried purpose known only to him.
His clothing is made from a simple brown wrap, covering him from crown to
hoof, revealing only his dark green eyes. As he walks, a dark smudge blots
the horizon, slowly revealing an impossible cliff wall cutting the land in
twain. The figure does not hurry towards the wall of rock, but his gait
bears him towards a small dark opening in the Cliffside. He speaks.
Voice Over: "The Alpha always called me Tiro, and I'm fairly sure he was
making fun of me. But since some manner of address becomes useful when
interacting with others, Tiro works as well as any other name. My mother may
have given me another appellation, but I never asked her and she never saw
fit to tell."

While Tiro talks, he enters the cavern opening, which only just clears the
top of his head. The cavern he has entered is not well lit, but several
figures about the room give off varying degrees of light. The brighter forms
look quite human, while most of the darker forms do not hold any distinct
shape. When the dark shapes do solidify, they are distinctly unpleasant to
look at, resembling humans in various states of pain and suffering. The
forms animate and turn as Tiro enters the chamber, glancing at the corporeal
intruder with a longing that resembles hunger. Tiro ignores their looks, and
navigates the room with purpose.

Voice Over: "In death, you are what you were in life. A simple, unavoidable
destiny for all humans. This tends to make eternity a rather bland nothing
for the majority, and an intensely unpleasant decent into agony for more
than a few. The brighter ones fade back into the nothing rather quickly, but
frankly, they've earned it. My employer seldom has any interest in the
sparkly ones, and the gray nothings are pretty much useless. The dark ones
are where the real power lies, but harnessing that power tends to be . . .
unpleasant. The fact that I not only can interact with these shells, but
that I'm willing to, makes me unique in the world, at least so far."
Towards the back of this cavern, the room narrows to a point and opens to
another mirror image of the first room. Tiro stops just before the second
room and looks down at a dark shape huddled over on itself. More so than
most of the dark ones, this form holds it shape, resembling a man so
emaciated he appears to be wax paper stretched over bones. The figure chews
on its right hand, devouring but never consuming the tatters of flesh
hanging on the bone. The other distinct feature of this form is the band of
pulsating light twisting like a worm through where his intestines should be,
sucking the light from more than a few of the other figures huddled about
him.

Voice Over: "Ah famine, not even you are going to get much sustenance around
here, and I think you've about used that one up. It's probably best that you
come back with me, even if I'm not your type. Besides, others are interested
in his case, and you're only going to get in the way of the information
gathering. Be a good girl and settle on my shoulders for a bit, eh?"
Placing his hand over where the form's abdomen should be, Tiro pulls the
ropy worm of light out of the dark man below him, settling it about his neck
like a tribal token. The worms twists and tests the flesh about his neck,
seeking a new place to burrow. Unable to find purchase, the worm tries a
choke hold, but again meets with no success. Resigned to its new fate, the
worm droops into a hangman's noose and is still. Tiro reaches down and
through the eye sockets, pulling the shadow's eyes out by the stalks. It is
not a grotesque act, there is no blood or bodily fluid to spill. Rather, it
resembles nothing more than pulling two seeds from the ground, taking their
immature root bulbs with them. Tiro closes his hand about the disembodied
eyes, and Eric Steven Thorne is born.