A Little Drafty

Opening his eyes, Professor Kal was greeted by muffled light filtering through a thin, yellow stained cotton sheet. He was back in the musty basement of the inn they had yet to name, the air was moist, and the smell of mold clung to his silken robe. Pulling the sheet off of himself, he groggily got to his feet, his world spinning slightly.

Having your soul travel through the material plane unprotected was anything but a pleasant experience. Even for a lich, whose soul could be considered hardier than most, it was difficult to weather the symptoms. His undead body felt hot and fuzzy, his mana pathways were itching as his damaged soul started the process of repairing itself.