For a few times Asraphel felt like he was teetering on the brink of conciousness, but across that border was nothing but pain and he quickly retracted back into the comfortable darkness. Then suddenly the fog seemed to lift and the pain was numbed down enough that he wasn't bothered by it. He sat up and looked into the face of a man. It was a hard face with a prominent jawline and a hooked nose. The hair was dishevelled and black, the eyes green and piercing. A small stubble featured on the fair skin, but a horrible scar from the right eyebrow down the side of the face split into what might become a beard once. Asraphel tried speaking to this man, but when the man opened his lips as well, he realised he was just looking at his own reflection.
Asraphel had sat up just besides a small pool, which lay completely calm in this small cave. He looked around him and saw the rock edges covered with moss. When he looked up, he saw a hole in the ceiling with bits of branch and leaves hanging out of the sides and a deep red light falling through it. A quick survey of his surrounding revealed there was something hidden under what appeared to be a blanket in the corner of the cave, as well as a dark passageway leading out of it. Asraphel tried to stand up and got his hand tangled in a piece of nodded rope.
Finally everything started to make a little bit of sense to him. What he had thought was a big badger hole in the side of a slope was actually a man-made entrance to a small cave. It had been covered with branches and leaves on top to hide it from view and a small knotted rope had serviced as a more subtle way of entrance. Judging by the secrecy, it was probably a smuggler hole or the stash for a band of thieves. He was tempted to find out what was under the blanket, but since he wasn't sure the red light was the sun setting or rising, he wanted to at least first look at what he looked like in case the light ran out. If he was to spend time in a body without memories, he at least wanted to know what the body looked like.
Walking over to the edge of the pool he surveyed his outfit. Asraphel appeared to be muscular and well build. Not too slender, but definitely not fat. His garb was composed out of a sturdy leather pants and armour, both dyed black, as well as brown boots and a dark blue shirt. On his armour was the symbol of a grey wolf howling at the moon. Upon closer inspection he noticed part of the wolf symbol had a cut through it and it wasn't until then he remembered the deep slash across his chest. He felt around the armour and noticed it had lost most of its integrity, but it was held together just because he was adding structure to it by wearing it. He took it off, followed by his equally torn and blood-soaked shirt, to inspect a wound that he was sure should have bled him to death. However, upon revealing the cut, it was nothing but a scar.
Asraphel was confused again. How had this scar healed so quickly? Even if he had been out for days, the blood loss should've done him in. It seemed inflamed, but besides that it was rather clean. He ran his hand across the scar on his face as well, and it was painful and raw. He suspected it had been caused by one of the branches during the night. Remembering the night brought back more confusing theories and useless meanderings. He quickly pushed them away, knowing he would need more information to reach an actual conclusion. He wasn't sure if he deserved to live yet, if he really was the horrible person he had been accused of being, but he determined then and there he would find out and pass judgement on himself later.
Finally Asraphel walked over to the blanket, which smelled of wet cat, and pulled it off whatever lay beneath. The blanket revealed a heavy oak chest with durable hinges. It would've been impossible to open, had it been locked, however if there had been a padlock on it, it had been removed. With a groan Asraphel threw back the heavy lid, finally able to rummage through the contents of the chest.
Inside he found several torches and a flint right away, as well as a dented but sturdy dagger. A small purse rattled as he picked it up and when he quickly poured the copper coins into his hand, he counted seven Crowns, as well as four half Crown pieces. Finally at the bottom of the chest he found some clothes, consisting out of wool socks, a belt, some sandals, flimsy pantaloons and a brown hemp robe. Upon closer inspection the robe contained the icon of a dark green cross. He knew this symbol belonged to the monks of St. Almodar, the patron of the poor and needy. Those monks often wandered the land after swearing vows of poverty. Then they helped everyone who needed something read, an extra pair of hands, an understanding ear or for those who were able to their medical services. In return they always found a bed and a hot meal at the end of the day.
Asraphel didn't even wonder how he knew all this anymore and quickly deduced that this was the survival kit for someone, for if they had to run. As a St. Almodar monk anyone could cross the land, provided they weren't beneath helping those who needed it and avoided those really in the order. He quickly put on the robe and belt, leaving the pants and sandals behind. He knew that would be a dent in his new disguise, but he didn't know how far he had to travel and his pants and boots were durable.
By striking the flint upon the blade he lid one of the torches, which he then wedged between two rocks. He added the flint to his pouch and then hung both it and the dagger to his belt. Finally he lifted up the torch and finally set into the dark passage that would lead away from this place.
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