Johnathan Tell was something unique, and what he was possibly wasn't even a thought in the rest of Arda. He was a bard. Yeah, nothing seems strange about that. But on top of being through the hells (literally) and the pain of life. But, as he had laid in the ground with a guitar by his side, he waoke. Buried beneath a large oak tree. He was in a coffin, buried at least six feet in the dirt. Where his gravemound was covered with a variety of differant flowers. Arranged beautfiully and surrounded by some mushrooms.

He laid in the dirt, looking up at nothing but darkness. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic or else he would be screaming, and flailing his arms and legs. Freaking out in general. But no, he just laid there, looking up at the blackened ceiling of a wooden coffin. He found comfort in the fact his guitar was next to him. He couldn't play it, no air to help carry the sound. He would have to get out of that hole to play a single chord. He took a hand and wiped away some dust that covered the inside of the coffin. He could feel something, it fealt like splintered wood.

He couldn't see or hear anything, but he could feel a great wright falling on top of him. It was dirt, very loose dirt. He squirmed and wiggled until he had a small space where his guitar was. He fealt around desperatley, feeling around until he could grab the neck of his guitar. He brought it up with the rest of his body, again the dirt sifted down, bringing him a bit further back to his coffin. He fought desperatley to get up, digging through the dirt until his arm with the guitar reached the air.

At last, he found slavation. He could feel rain against his cold skin. He pulled his body up to the air. Now he just needed to drag his waist up with him. But, that's where his luck ended. The dirt and collapsed once more, now trapping his legs beneath the suraface of the ground. Oh well, at least he could play a few chords to pass the time. He began to play for a while in the rain, until his right hand fell off. He looked down at it in disbelief. That had never happened before. He grabbed it with his left hand and put it to the dry stub. Somehow it reattached. Finally memories flooded back to him, he was killed. Ah well, no use getting upset now. It was probably some dozen years ago. He played again, this time it was a sadder tune to go with the rain.