Something pulled him back together. The blast had sliced its way through his molecules, separating them and disintegrating his form. It has also scrambled his soul, severing the connection to the body and cutting it loose into the Twisting Nether.
It had been, undoubtedly, a powerful weapon. The House of Gis should be commended.
But something did not want any of it to have happened, and so he was not allowed his psuedo-death. Not yet, at least. Not here, in this place in between.
He--coalesced was the best way to describe it. He coalesced out of the residual energies from the blast and reformed. His bones came together first, followed quickly by muscles and skin. But something was missing. Some physical parts of him had actually been vaporized by the blast, and there was nothing left to coalesce from.
That's when it reached outward from the gate, and put him back together itself. It used part of its own essence to complete him. Dark energy fused with material from this realm and shaped it into shadow-flesh. It was wonderfully similar to the soulshaping Sraath had been used to, but somehow more.
He felt cold, however, very cold. The heat of the fel was gone complete, leaving an emptiness that tried to draw in everything else around it.
His skin shifted on his body and writhed against this new cold. It split, growing teeth and trying to consume whatever it could; trying to consume the fabric of reality. It was a hunger now; an absolute, faceless hunger.
There were still souls here. He could still feel them, drifting away on the remains of his once-great fortress. He could still reach out, however, still touch their life energies.
He could still feed…