Dim at first. Flickering moments of confused consciousness. The world was darkness, informed only by the grayest sense of existence, of being. Then smells, the first real sensory input from the world outside this cage of foggy consciousness. An array of pungent aromas assailed his nostrils, most strongly with a scent of…sick. Puke. Somewhere very near. The almost overpowering odor made his nostrils twitch and his eyes water. The return to consciousness gathered momentum. The tactile world returned. He felt something solid beneath him. Something pressing against his face. It was…it was…oh yeah…a floor. Rough hardwood planks. His fingers twitched, clawed weakly at the pitted wood. Left hand fingers only. No sensation on the right side yet. Which was vaguely worrying, but a faint signal from somewhere within the murkier depths of his subconscious indicated this particular symptom was not indicative of a debilitating injury. Which was great news. Totally awesome news. But all other indicators so far pointed toward a situation loaded with an array of negative factors.
