Not yet, it seems, though something else seems to have claimed me.

You awake and you are surprised that you are able to wake at all. You were, after all, dying, weren't you? The vivid memory of the paladin's sword piercing your body and your bleeding out seems to support that fact. But you're not dead. No, you're alive and awake, even if you're not sure exactly where you are.

Hard stone is against your back and, as you glance around the place from your spot on the ground, you see stone walls and stalactites and a large hole above you that seems to stretch on into darkness forever. You realize that you're in a cavern that must have been below the tower and, when it collapsed, you ended up here. You think, though, that that still doesn't explain why you're alive. If anything, it means you should be doubly dead as there was no chance of a mortal living through such a fall as you apparently had, let alone surviving with a stab wound deep in your stomach.

At that thought, you move your right hand to touch at your wound...and are surprised to feel hard metal against your abdomen as you do. It takes you a moment to realize that that feeling is your hand and, as you lift your hand to inspect it you see that your hand is no longer unadorned as it had been. No, now it is encased in strange black steel. You gasp and sit up as you look at your hand in surprise, seeing that the gauntlet that had landed upon you was now upon your arm. From the tips of your fingers to just below your elbow, your right forearm is encased in that odd black steel...and, now that you're wearing it, you realize how odd that metal is indeed.

It is hard, you can tell, as hard as any steel and yet it seems to...flex and bend as you move your hand. Less like armor and more like second skin, the gauntlet feels natural on your arm and seems to weigh nothing at all. Moreover, as you press your hand to your stomach again (finding it miraculously free of lethal sword wound as it had been), you feel...well, your stomach. You feel skin against your fingertips, despite your hand being encased in metal and you gasp again at that. What magic could make such a thing as the gauntlet that you now wore on your hand?

You remember hearing, through the haze of pain and fury, the gnomish mage speaking about the item in the chest. Dark energy. Powerful dark energy. That was what she said and you shudder as you realize that such an evil thing of dark magic is now upon you. You can almost imagine it invading your body, perverse dark energy seeping into your blood and changing you from within, and you cry out in horror as you grasp at the gauntlet and try to pull it off. You find, however, that it is quite impossible.

The gauntlet is free of catches or straps to unfasten and you find that it won't slide off when you try to tug it off of your arm. Indeed, there doesn't even seem to be a seam between the gauntlet and your own arm at the point where black steel gives way to your own sun-kissed skin once more. It seems that, as you thought, the gauntlet is more a second skin than armor now and you shudder once more in revulsion at that thought. It makes you feel almost like your body is indeed being invaded by something dark and perverse.

But there is nothing you can do about it, you realize, and you heave a deep sigh as you feel suddenly mentally exhausted. So much had happened. So much had changed in a matter of moments. You had been betrayed, left for dead and now were attached to some dark artifact that had apparently been the goal of this expedition. You feel anger again sweep through you as you remember the betrayal you had suffered, but that anger becomes grief as you realize all you had lost. Your life, your purpose, your beliefs and, worst of all, your sister if you could believe what had been said by the rogue.

Grief overwhelms you and you bring your knees up to your chest and hug them as you, despite yourself, quietly weep at what you've lost. You mourn what has been lost, mourn and grieve and let out all the pain that you'd suffered in that single moment of betrayal. You let those emotions flow out of you and, as you do, you feel something in you shift. Something in your heart hardens ever so slightly as pain and sorrow becomes replaced with something burning hot. Fury? Determination? Desire for ****? Something else? You don't know, but you feel it and, when you finally finish letting tears flow, you take a deep breath and stand up slowly.

You have lost much. You have lost nearly everything. But you are alive. You are alive and you vow to yourself right then and there that those who had sought to kill you and had been accomplices to the horrible crime that had been committed against you and your sister would regret the fact that you still lived. For, as long as you drew breath, your goal would be to make...them...pay.