You find yourself floating amidst a swirling, billowing red chaos. There is no up, no down, no way to orient yourself other than by instinct. All around you are glowing red clouds, lit by flashes of unseen lightning. A roaring wind can be heard, and you feel it tugging at you, trying to throw you off-course. Indistinct faces and forms seem to flit around you, whispering faintly with sibilant tongues. You know for certain that if it were not for the shimmering sphere of the Warp Shield that surrounds you, this place would shred you apart, tearing body, mind and soul into ribbons before swallowing them in its chaos.

And then, suddenly, there is a flash of light as the redness parts, and you find yourself floating through a swirling Warp Gate. To your relief, your feet touch solid ground. Looking down, you see your own visage reflected within the smooth, pitch-black surface – it appears to be volcanic glass. As you look up again, you see this at first solid-seeming floor begin to ripple in the distance, as though pebbles had been dropped into a pool of once-still water. You are amazed as solid objects rise gently and silently from the rocks… it looks to be a chair… a table… a bookshelf, complete with books…

You are startled when a gentle hand touches you lightly on the shoulder, and you whirl around to see a tall, broad man standing beside you. His raven hair falls to his shoulders, and his brown eyes glitter with faint specks of crimson. He is dressed in a suit of black armour, and you cannot help but notice the handle of a massive, reddish sword protruding from the scabbard strapped to his back. Somehow, you know that while this man looks to be in his late twenties, he is in fact far, far older than that.

A very faint smile plays across his lips as he speaks, and he bows slightly on introducing himself.

“Welcome, traveller. You may call me Soul Reaver, and this is my Obsidian Island.”