All seemed clear amidst the vast fields of Bohar as the sky began to darken overhead. Gusts of wind swept quickly across the plains and it seemed a tornado would rise as the twisting currents crackled with brilliant electrical sparks. The darkness perpetuated itself and spread as far as the eye could see, blotting out the sun and removing all the heavens above from sight. It was then the first bolt struck the ground, rendering grassland and the very earth below into embers and ash.
Though none were there, towns and trading posts miles away could see the spectacle and heard what they believed to be the very earth groaning from either strain or pain. The incomparable experience wrought torment upon the minds of the superstitious as they believed their gods were infuriated with them and wreaking havoc and destruction upon the land. The intensity of electrical discharge steadily increased as what seemed a stable field of lightning encircled and twisted counter to the wind and earth swept up by the winds.
From the blackened heavens above, a darkness seemed to radiate upon the earth and the static discharge exploded outward, creating an electrical surge so powerful, the grass for miles scorched without flame, a small crater appearing at the epicenter. It was then a hand emerged from the black sphere, followed by a head, torso, trunk, and other appendages, clothed only in rags. As the body, decidedly human, and ambiguously alive, emerged fully from the sphere, the lightning ceased and the clouds parted, leaving nothing more than the memories of its presence scarring the face of the world at this place.
The body of the human lay destroyed and seeming twisted into painful shapes contorted and distorted from that which normal biology could allow. Indeed, the body was no more than a sick collection of torn flesh and bone laying in the center of the crater. The black sphere seemed liquid in nature now, ripples and a viscous surface that ebbed and flowed as though it were alive. Dark energy crackled from it, striking the corpse numerous times as black bolts scorched it. The body transmuted slowly from twisted remains to its natural form, sinew and bone realigning and setting with wet snaps as it twitched. The flesh repaired itself and hair grew from the corpse's skull, facial features forming now into the flesh that covered the skull.
Laying still after the repair of his body was complete, Icarus remained dead. The sphere crackled against with dark energy and bolts struck his ribcage, forcing his heart to start pumping the fresh blood now circulating through him. Thrice the energy struck, reattaching and reactivating his nervous system, repairing neurons and sending impulses to his brain. The black sphere ceased and began to shrink, the vast energies it consisted of beginning to fade as his eyes snapped open and the first breath of his new life erupted forth along with bile that splashed his face as he turned quickly to allow the vomit to drain.
It took minutes and incredible amounts of pain for Icarus to control his body, bewildered by his surroundings and the crater he now lay in. The shock of resurrection could drive most insane, but he was no ordinary man beholden to such failings. This was a man that slew demons, a man that commanded armies and struck down even the most powerful of Hell! What sort of fear did he know when all he sought to conquer lay vanquished at his feet? He was a walking embodiment of cunning and strength of will.
Now, it seemed, he was sent to a new home, his body having been torn asunder and crushed by magics he knew nothing of. He no longer felt a connection to the darkness, nor the lands he had left behind. Instead, he felt different. His body had reverted to that of his peak potential, his lithe form a combination of fine musculature and disciplined work ethic.
He had to move. He couldn't simply remain in this crater. Rising to his hands and knees, Icarus crawled slowly toward the edge, some five meters away. As he felt strength returning, he forced himself up, falling as he sought to regain the strength in his legs as well as his equilibrium. Struggling to climb over the horizon of the blemish upon the face of the world, he rose at last, leaning heavily against the raised earth. Throwing his body weight over it, he was able to roll onto scorched earth, feeling the prickle of burnt wild grass pressing against his flesh. He didn't care, had no will nor capacity to care and thus, he continued to lay face down upon the ground for some time. Perhaps the animals wouldn't feed upon him while he slept.
