As Heavy Hitter and Mustache searches the pile trash, they find many useful items, like weapons, armors, and many different equipment.
He stumbles out into the hallway right after the other man, fearful that the door might slam shut and trap him inside the cage once more. "Thank y'!" he says sincerely, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He takes in the chamber quickly, his gaze darting over the crumbled wall, the cracked foundation, the pile of equipment, the furnace. The furnace.
It was significant for him, somehow, but he couldn't put it into words exactly how. Next to it was a large pile of equipment.
Ignoring the presence in his head for the moment, he shuffles over toward the pile and kicks the items around a bit with his foot. "Lotta good stuff'n 'ere. Might do us some good." He picks up a suit of leather armor, its chestpiece old and worn, with severe claw marks scarring its surface. Whoever had worn it had clearly faced some trials. May be they're in that furnace now.
He pulls the armor over his head, drawing the straps tight, then loosening them a bit. He turns to look for a mirror, and a gleam by the wall catches his eye. An enormous, macabre scythe rests serenely against the stonework. Its crooked, gnarled ashwood handle snakes up the wall as its long blade curves wickedly to culminate in a razor tip.
"A scythe. O' course there'd be a scythe."
He lifts the weapon, surprised by how natural it feels in his grip. He spins around, cutting the air in a long, graceful slash. It feels too familiar, like it would be wrong to remember. A sudden feeling of guilt overcomes him. His inner voice groans again.
"What about you? Do you know your name? What do we call you?"
"Reaper..." he mumbles. "Y' can call me Reaper. That'll do."
Lucius was drawn to the pile of armor, weapons, and equipment.
He automatically reached for a rapier; his hand wrapping around comfortably over its well-used pommel. The rapier seemed old, the basket style no longer made these days but the blade looked to have been well-taken care of.
He looked around and tucked in his belly as he tried on the large-sized leather armor. It fit him and he made a scene out of tightening the straps too much. He couldn't breathe properly so he adjusted those and promised himself to start eating less.
Next he picked up a crystal like those used to read small print and his eyes darted to a set of thieves tools. Are those mine? Was I a thief?
Not wanting to ponder that tasteless question, he also tucked the tools into his clothes.
He then started using minor magic to clean the dust off his armor and to grease his mustache.
He nodded to the man swinging the scythe, "OK, Reaper it is then."
Alenka finishes up with the doppleganger. "This would have been so much easier with proper tools," she says to herself. The last thing she does is search the doctor to see if it had anything else that would prove useful.
She gets up, turns around, and notices everyone is free. "Good. You're out of your cells. Everyone unhurt?"
tag?
The discovery of the items draws the alchemist's attention along with everyone else. She finds a set of dissection tools which she quickly appropriates. "Why the doctor wasn't using these instead of the makeshift tools is beyond me. Obviously she was just causing that poor soul pain and not trying to accomplish anything of value." A meat cleaver then catches her eye and she smiles. "Now that's what I'm talking about. I could do some damage with this." There's a smaller suit of leather armor that looks like it may fit. She tries it on and decides that it'll do. Lastly she finds a kit wedged in the corner stocked with chemicals that looked useful which she takes as well. Stuffed inside the kit is also a dagger.
"Call me crazy but it seems like this stuff may belong to the lot of us. Maybe it'll help us figure out who we are or why we're here. Wherever 'here' is."
"No..." the tattooed woman replies, almost apologetically to the half-orc, "I don't think we've met...Its just a nickname...because of the big sword..." Wait. That was just in my dream? Right? Not wanting to think about it too much, she moves over to the pile of rubble.
When "Moustache" grants her the name "Tattoo", there is almost something in her brain that wants to protest. No! That's not my name...my name is...it's....damnitt.... Instead, she just gives him a shrug. "Call me whatever you like. Tattoo's fine"
"Crazy? I thought we had settled on Goggles." She replies with a chuckle when Goggles remarks that the stuff might be their own. Yet, as she begins to look through it, she too starts to wonder. First she sees a sling, just like the one she remembers in the dream. Next she notices a necklace, a flask and a bell that all feel entirely familiar. Then her eyes fall on an out of place object. A slightly worn deck of cards. Picking it up, she almost instinctively begins shuffling them and as she does she notices symbols hidden amongst the design on the back. Drawing a random card, she observes the strange symbol. "6 of Clubs", she mutters to herself. Flipping it to see that she was correct, she wonders, How on earth could I have known that, but not my own name!?! Shaking the thought away, she pocket the cards and loads all the other familiar feeling items into a backpack. Her only moment of hesitation is when she feels pulled towards a suit of amor and longspear in the corner. Come on...there's no way that's mine! Looking around, she thinks, But, it doesn't seem like anyone else wants them...and we don't know what we are going to face up ahead...so better be safe.
Once she has donned the surprisingly comfortable and well-fitted armor, she remarks to the others, "Well, I don't know about you...but I'll be happy to never see this place again. So, shall we move?"
"Almost," he says as he kneels down again. "Still lotsa treasures.". He scoops up one of the numerous bags, raking a large cache of equipment into it with his arm--rope and torches and rations. Imperceptibly, he plucks a few more items from the loot:. A censer and incense, a pair of intricate lambskin gloves, a small bag of bird-like bones, and a tarnished pocket watch. He doesn't know why he selects these items, but he does.
Then he stands and turns to Heavy Hitter. "'Ow 'bout it? Y' want any'f it?"
Then he uses the handle of his scythe to push the furnace door wide open, revealing its contents...
Heavy Hitter looked at the man for a moment, still trying to figure out how he and the ghostmonster had looked so much alike. Giving it up as a lost cause, she turned to the diminished pile of loot.
Some hide armour lay on the top of the pile, and judging from its size, it had to have been hers. Picking it up, she wrinkled her nose - it stank. Looking longingly at the nice leather armour of the others, she wriggled herself into it and buckled it into place. She found a dagger in a built-in sheath in her armour. She then picked up a crossbow and a few bolts - she wasn't sure if she knew how to use it, but figured it couldn't be too hard.
"Ooh! I like this one!" She picked up a heavy greatsword, testing it's balance and giving a few experimental swings. "I had this in my dream, I think. Our dream? Is that a normal thing, to share dreams?"
She was distracted from her question by a glint in the pile of bloody clothes. Bending over, she picked it up to discover a shiny bracelet. It was made of a strange, heavy silver, and the edges were heavily encrusted with dark purple amethyst. In the middle a strange sigil was etched, and it hurt her eyes if she looked at it. Nevertheless, she instantly fell in love with the bracelet, and immediately put it on her wrist.
"Look what I found!" She showed the others the bracelet, hoping none of them would claim ownership. As she turned her hand to admire the bangle, she noticed a black mark on her hand. Some blood, she thought. But when she wiped it on her pants, it didn't come off. Taking a closer look, Heavy was shocked to discover a mark on her palm - the same mark as on the bracelet.
"What the..." The mark seemed to undulate on her hand, and she quickly closed her fist around it. A funny thought came to her, and she said, "Let there be light." When she opened her hand again, her palm was glowing with a bright purple light. Excitedly, she turned her hand to the others. "Guys! Guys! Look what I can do!"
Goggles' eyes glow at Heavy Hitter's emission of light. That makes two of them who can generate light. I'll be sticking close to them. "That's a handy thing to be able to do."
But it was Heavy Hitter's question that Goggles circled back to. "I've never heard of numerous people sharing the same dream. Maybe it was magic or maybe we were given something to make us highly suggestible so we just thought we were dreaming." She shrugged, "It doesn't really matter. I'm just happy it wasn't real." Goggles shakes her body as if to shake off the memories. "I'd rather think about how we're going to get out of here. Did anyone try the door?"
tag everyone
"Nope." she nonchalantly replies to Goggles when asked about the door, "But, I suppose there is no time like the present..."
Walking towards the door, she stops for a moment and falls quiet, listening for anything on the other side, before turning the handle and slowly opening the door.
Alenka is just about to leave the pile of odds and ends when something catches her eye. She reaches for it and realizes that it's a musical instrument. "This is certainly an odd thing to be finding here." She gives it a few plucks of the strings and it becomes clear that it isn't hers. A few of the others cover their ears at the discordant sound she makes. "Does anyone want this? I think it's a violin or some such but there's no bow. Maybe it belonged to the unfortunate soul on the table. It looks well-made, if it doesn't belong to anyone then maybe I can sell it."
The door opens with a lot of noise and close inspection shows that it is somewhat crooked. A broad chute extends diagonally through one of this cellar's half-crumbled stone walls. Beneath it lies heaped more than a dozen mutilated humanoid bodies. Nearby, a flight of rickety, wooden steps climbs toward the high ceiling, an escape none of the room's current occupants seem capable of employing. The smell of rot and decay in the room is nearly overwhelming, and the buzz of flies
hangs in the air.
All are dead, some having been so for days. You also notice that many of them are wearing the same thing: a plain, white uniform that buttons in the front. It is very similar to the doctor's outfit worn by the doppelganger.
The chute to the west is 8 feet of the floor.
"C'mon, we dun' want t'lose the others." Reaper says to Heavy Hitter, motioning back across the room. As they step by the now-dead man on the table, he lets his gaze fall across the remains. Reflexively, he places his fingers in the gore.
Kidney, bladder, lung... Another shadow hovers over him, but he isn't sure why, except that the dead body is...was meaningful to him somehow.
He turns to Heavy Hitter. "Y' asked me what t'make of that, that other part of me. I dun' rightly know...And I dun' know what t'make of the dream we's havin' 'afore we woke, neither."
Hearing a gasp he jerks around to see the pile of dead bodies tossed carelessly down the chute. Running to the door, his stomach bottoms out and he falls to his knees, dry heaving. But what escapes his mouth is the green vapor again. The other
He claws the floor, wishing it to be over, feeling like it won't ever end. Until it does.
His own ghostly doppleganger hovers just before them, again in one piece.
As Heavy Hitter steps forward he puts his hand up. "Wait! Wait! Just wait one minute, now. I think it...I think it's here t'help."
::Heeelp:: echoes the ghost.
"Do y'know where we is? Looks like a jail o' some kind. Them uniforms, looks like a hospice or sumpin'." He asks it to everyone, even the ghost.
Lucius shivered and hoed none of the others saw him but the scene was just... gross. What was he doing here?
The Reaper's ghost only added to his unease. he neared Reaper and asked, "Can you eh... send him away or something? Is he dangerous?"
tag?
He turned to big girl in the group, "See any doorknobs?"
tag?
He then inspected the stairs, testing his weight on the rickety steps.
"I think we're in some sort of prison but for what?"
____________
]
"Is he dangerous?"
Stumped, Reaper looks at the ghost. It's a translucent green color. The wall behind it can just be made out through it. "Umm... Well, are y'?"
::Weee:: it rasps. ::Weee aare daaangerooous?::
Then, the voice is back within his own head once again.
::We are differ'nt, but th' same. Hurtin' y'd be hurtin' me::
I don't understand, Reaper replies silently.
::me neither:: it answers.
"I dun' think it means't harm us. More like it's just lost 'n confused like we is. But it's part o' me, somehow. M'own pet ghost. Creepy, huh?"
"I think we're in some sort of prison but for what?"
"Only one way't find out," Reaper says, about to take a step...
He turned to big girl in the group, "See any doorknobs?"
Frowning, Heavy looked around. "Only the one behind us," she said, wondering if the fat man was short of sight. Maybe that's why he'd been feeling around the door. Taking his arm solicitously, she said, "There's lots of bodies here," she shivered and looked away, "so don't trip. Here, the stairs are this way."
M'own pet ghost. Creepy, huh?
Heavy stared at the ghost. Now that she looked carefully, Reaper and Creepy looked different. Almost identical, but not quite. "Sorry about before, Creepy. I didn't know you were a good guy. I'm glad you're okay. Why do you live in his stomach?"
Tag?
As Creepy made his appearance, Goggles said, "That is fantastic. How is that accomplished? Can I touch him? Fascinating."
tag Cerio
She nodded to herself. There are some amazing talents in this group. I wonder what I can do?
The bodies were a shame. The way they were so carelessly discarded was disheartening. There could have been so much potential to learn from each one of them but alas they were now just rotting, decaying flesh. The smell of death was unpleasant and Goggles covered her nose and mouth with her hand. I hope this smell doesn't permeate into my skin and hair.
Tattoo wanders towards the staircase, mostly to find an exit, but also to get away from the mutilated pile. Keeping an ear on the conversation about the ghost, a phenomenon she was rather curious about herself, she begins to examine the stairs. First, she looks upwards, trying to figure out they go. Then she pokes the wood with her longspear, testing for any wobbles or weakness in the rickety looking structure.
Despite their unsteady appearance, the stairs are sturdy enough to climb. Tattoos and Mustache climb the stairs but once they reach its landing, they clearly see the heaps of rubble choking the passage above... it could be cleared but it would take many hours of work at least, without even knowing how much rubble there was or its stability.
With the west tunnel from the previous chamber and north tunnel of this one both collapsed, it seems that the only way out of this cellar is through the chute... at least the pile of bodies heaped beneath it make convenient, if morbid, stairs. Once reaching for the chute itself, the passage is 15 feet long but the rough walls make it easy enough to scale. A metal door at the top of the chute is closed, but once pushed it opens easily. You emerge in what appears to be a service room and you immediately feel the scent of wet earth.
Besides the entrance for the chute, there is nothing remarkable about this room. There is an opened door to the south that leads to an open courtyard, allowing you to see that it is raining... a lot. From time to time you see a flash of line and almost instantly the sound of thunder ringing on your ears. Mustache comes closer to the door and doesn't feel the cool breeze usually associated with the storm, but instead an unnatural warmth. Another thunder roars but this time the flash was greenish.
A shedlike structure to the south lies largely collapsed. Mustache takes a look around the corner of the service room and notices that the north wall of this courtyard has collapsed, and looking around he also notices much destruction in this unknown building... in many points there is some vestige of a second floor but as far as he can see with all the rain, it appears that only the first floor survived whatever disaster occurred to this place. It appears that the only exit of this courtyard is through an opened door to the west...
Mustache emerged to the courtyard, looked at the floor, and called his companions over.
"Look here, amid the puddles in the mud. There are scabby stains, faintly leading from the door to the west to the service room we emerged."
He touched the rain and pulled his hand back, "Some of this rain droplets are really hot, enough to burn unprotected flesh."
It felt like he just passed the first test in this big puzzle. Mustache smiled. He liked puzzles.
Though not wanting to spend any more time by the chute that she needed to, Tattoo can't help but hover near the top of it, making sure that everyone makes it up alright. Mustache. Heavy Hitter. Reaper...er...Ghost Reaper...Goggles. That's it. That's everyone." Relieved, she moves away from the wall, though she can't quite put a finger on why she feels so responsible for them all.
Once outside, Tattoo squints to try and see through the rain and look at the tracks that Mustache is pointing out. "Hmm." she muses. "Perhaps this is how we were brought it?" Looking around the courtyard, she adds, "I don't see any other doors...so this must be the way out."
Alenka looked out into the courtyard. Unsurprisingly, nothing looked familiar and the place looked unwelcoming. "I wonder if anyone is watching us from the windows?"
Goggles' brow furrows at Mustache's comment. "How can only some of the rain be hot?" She then stuck out her hand to test his words. If he's right, I don't want to be hanging out in the courtyard in the rain. "This weather is certainly strange."
"Why do you live in his stomach?"
::Liiive?:: asks the ghost.
"I dun' think 'e lives in m' stomach. More like he's in m' head, but itchin' t' get out." Reaper tries to explain to Heavy and Goggles, though he looks as lost as the ghost. "I jus' dun' know..."
-----------
It had been an awkward moment, trying to explain to the ghost that it needed to crawl up the chute. It had been even weirder crawling behind it.
Reaper had lost his footing climbing into the chute, his foot landing in an unsettingly soft corpse. The moment he had felt the flesh begin to give way, he jerked his foot up and found purchase on a stone, pulling himself in and up.
What they now observe does little to settle his uneasiness.
"Green lightnin'? Fire rain? Don't like the looks o' this t'all."
Following Tattoos's eyes, he remarks, "Well, that's a way. Whether it's tha way out remains to be knowed."
Heavy Hitter didn't like the weather, and certainly not the talk of hot rain. However, she wasn't happy about going into the place that the bodies had come from. Wasn't much choice, though.
Moving to the door in the west, she drew her new sword and held it ready. "Guess the only way to find out is to look," she said, trying to sound brave.
Alenka stretches her hand towards the warm rain and feels nothing initially... until a searing droplet hits her hands, making a blister.
Jenni enters the west passage to find a long hall. Broken lanterns and several battered doors line this cold, rubble-strewn hall. To the south, a pair of swinging doors lies shattered upon a 4-foot-high heap of wrecked furniture clogging a broad doorframe. It is dark, but light is visible beyond the barricade to the south.
From the south, you hear a harsh manly voice. "Whoa, there! We got more here!"
The alchemist yanks her hand back under cover. "How oddly fascinating." The burning sensation seems vaguely familiar to her somehow. Acid comes to mind but she dismisses it since when had acid ever rained down from above?
Watching Heavy Hitter move forward, Goggles waits with the others to see what she finds.
"Guys! Guys!" Heavy waved them towards her. "There's some more folk in here! And they've barricaded the hallway. Maybe they're friendly!" After all, somebody had been killing the doctorgangers, and they were definitely not friendly. Stood to reason that these people could be allies. She stepped towards the west wall to make room for the others to see. She didn't put her sword down, however, just in case she was wrong.
Using her backpack to cover her head, Tattoo moves quickly through the rain, following after the half-orc. More people? Heavy Hitter sounds so hopeful...but could anything in this place could be good? Feeling dread welling up in her stomach, she moves into the next room with her longspear in one hand. "Where?" she asks. Looking over towards the barricade, she frowns and takes up a defensive posture waiting to see how they react.
Lucius once more conjured his dancing lights and sent them out to investigate towards the voices. Once next to Jenni, he called out, "Who's there?"
He then ventured to ask, "And where are we? What is this place?"
Alenka follows the others but stays quiet. She felt it best if whoever Heavy Hitter heard didn't know how many of them there actually were.
"C'mon now, stay close t'th' wall. Dun' get yourself burned." Reaper throws himself against the wall, creeping slowly under whatever ledge there might be to avoid the burning rain.
"I swear I ne'er seed yellow lightnin' 'afore..."
Inside the hallway he tries to remain quiet as the others call out to the building's strange inhabitants.
He reaches out and touches the ghost with his hand.
Careful now. There's bound t'be trouble.
Reaper stands toward the back, preparing for a confrontation.
As Lucius spheres move south, they reveal that 3-foot-high barricade of broken furniture and fallen masonry fills a wide, empty doorframe, blocking off the northern portion of this broad hall. Lanterns flicker upon the walls, casting shadows upon several closed doors and beyond the ramshackle barricade. With crossbows trained at you, three men stand with fear in their faces. "They are casting magic, shoot'em!" One of the men yells to the others but none of them follow that order, not even the one who gave it.
The one in the front, with a bald head and thick brown beard, yells at you. "Don't come any closer or we'll shoot you! And keep this witchcraft away from us unless ya'all want t'die!" You all recognize the fear in these men's voices.
It appears that either they did not listen to Lucius questions or they don't care who you are... they just want you to leave them alone.
Heavy's face fell when the men threatened to open fire on them. "Not friendly after all," she said sadly. To the others, she said, "What do we do now? Should we go up the hall instead?"
Lucius answered quickly, "This is not witchcraft; it's merely lights that's all."
He raised his hands, well away from his weapon, "Listen, we are lost and want to find a way out. What is this place? Perhaps we can help you as well. Who do you fear that you are armed like that?"
Just perfect...is every single person in this place either murderous or hysterical with fear? Remembering the horrors she had already witnessed here, Tattoo lets out a sigh. Though I suppose their fear is reasonable...
Taking a cautious step next to Mustache, she puts a hand on his shoulder and gestures towards him a reminder to breath. Placing her spear on her back, she turns to address the men and gently speaks. "We mean you no harm. We were being held captive by...some sort of creature...but we were able bring it down. Can we just talk for a bit? Perhaps we can help each other..."
Goggles waits to see how the men respond to Tattoo. They're blocking my way out. I understand being scared but if I have to go through them to get out of this gods-forsaken place, I will. She tightens her grip on the cleaver she found and watches.
"Woah, woah... Easy fellers. We's as lost as you'ns are. Just tryin' t'figure things out, is all..."
This looks bad, friend. You best go back int' hidin'...
::Dun' trust 'em. Scared men's no better'n cutthroats.::
The ghost's ectoplasmic form wavers, evaporating in the hot, humid air, and swirls around Reaper for a moment before seeming to dissolve into his very skin.
"Like Mr. Mustache here say, it's only purdy lights."
Reaper holds his scythe like a walking stick, but raises his free hand in mock surrender. He tries to smile, but he just can't muster it.
"Be quiet and be gone, old man!" One of the men yells at Mustache, still aiming at you, his hands trembling a bit... if from anticipation or fear is difficult to judge. Tattoos calming presence and interference seems to have eased the men a bit, making their crossbows lower a couple inches. "Hum... I'm not sure 'bout this..."
The men on the back points towards Reaper before speaking aloud. "Is that a scythe? How in the hell uses a scythe as a weapon? Oh, I don't like it at all... that one is trying to lure us... he is hiding something..." the others returns their crossbows to their ready position. After a couple tense seconds, another man joins the three, coming from the south. At his thirties, the man is strong, with a more military posture. He also has a readied crossbow at you and as soon as he arrives, the others give him space so he can talk more easily with you. "Draw no closer and leave! I'm sorry fellows but I can't let you pass... how will we know you are not shifters?... We can't risk it."
Mustache maneuvers his light closer to him, "Look. See? Just lights."
He remembered Reaper's ghost and added, "Not ghost lights or anything like that. OK?"
He then added, "Listen, we are not shifters. In fact we just disposed of one to get out of our cells. Can you tell us where the exit is?"
He asked, "What sort of proof do you want to convince yourselves that we are not shifters?" Mustache would have said his name and occupation if he knew them...
"Scythe? Weapon? Oh! You mean this here walkin' stick?" Reaper feigns confusion. "I's just tired and needed help climbin' m'way out th'cellar. Say, what's that there green'n yeller lightnin'?"
How can I convince them we aren't shifters?" Tattoo thinks, as she looks back at her companions. Can I even be totally sure that one of them isn't a shifter? Shuddering at the thought and taking a mental note to keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior, she turns back to the barricade.
"I suppose you can't...and I understand why you wouldn't want to take the risk." Mira replies. "But, perhaps we don't need to come back there. Perhaps we can just talk. You know, share what we know with one another. What do you know about this place and these shifters? My companions and I are at a bit of a loss as to how we got here..." she remarks, seemingly as calm about the situation as if she were a traveller who was merely having a bit of trouble finding the local inn.
Goggles gives an exasperated sigh. What does it matter what we are when all we want to do is leave? It's not like we want to be friends and spend time with them.
When Heavy Hitter realized that the new friends were just scared of them, she lowered her sword and stood inconspicuously near the back, trying to look friendly. She kept glancing behind her, making sure that nothing and nobody would come up behind them.
The man who looks to be in charge of the others shakes his head at Mustache's question but keeps his weapon pointed at you. "You may want to talk but we have no such desire. Until we know we can trust you, you are our enemies..."
At Reaper's question, one of the other man frowns before mumbling, "As if you didn't know."
The man in charge sighs as he notices your confusing. "Look, you may be telling the true or not... you may be lost or may be just another bunch of dangerous lunatics from the asylum... I've seen too much in the last few days to be allowed the luxury of trusting you." he shrugs before continuing, "Nevertheless, there is no exit from this place on our side but you are welcome to look for it somewhere else..."
Mustache's last question gets the man to think for a bit before replying, "You said you killed a shifter... bring me a bunch of shifter's bodies to prove you are not with them and we'll let you in." The others look at their 'commander' with suspicion but after a stern look they just look back at you, once more training their weapons.
"'s that what that pile of bodies at the bottom of that there chute is? Shifters?" Reaper swallows thickly at the prospect of returning down the chute, much less dragging a series of bodies back up behind them.
"So if'n we drag up some of them bodies, you'll believe we ain't monsters?"
::Maybe we is...:: offers the ghost.
Reaper gives no reply.
Heavy was already shaking her head and backing away. "I don't want to go back down there. I don't like it down there." Turning back up the hallway, she began to move away from the barricade. "They're not friendly at all - they're not even nice. Let's look this way for the way out."
Mustache agreed with Heavy but tried to make amends with the men, "We are going to search for another way out. We'll let you know if we find anything."
He stopped the half-orc, "Hold up a second."
Before he left, he asked the men, "You said this was an asylum? I'm not crazy and you guys don't seem crazy either. How did you end up here?"
The man shrugged after the question. "Well, if there were only crazy people in an asylum, it would be a jail and not an institution I think... Some of us were orderlies and others were the families of those interned here."
"An asylum..." Why in the world would he be in an asylum? Did this have something to do with his memory lapse--the same ailment they all seemed to be experiencing?
Reaper cautiously eyes the lingering raindrops, some of which sizzle when they strike the earth. Looking beyond to the courtyard, he sees no visible exits, except...
The windows. Those are an option. But if there are dangers within the building, what risk might they assume in trying to break through them? On top of that, the openings are very small, and he isn't sure they'd be able to fit through them. Especially the orc woman and the portly man. At least these men, as spooked as they are, have achieved a measure of safety. Even if it's only temporary...
He takes a deep breath and exhales audibly. "Well. Ain't nothin' for't. I guess we's draggin' Shifter bodies. Unless one of ya'll have a better idear?"