The stranger who'd introduced themselves as 'Ahnciel' silently flinched from the contact of River's wing touching them. They sighed and graciously took the cloth from Pox to more efficiently relieve themselves of the slight marring of crimson on the metal. Making a gesture of a hand over their chest and a small bow to convey some measure of thanks, their head snapped to Gangraena and their boisterous poise caused such noise. Quickly, they threw their hands out in front of them towards the woman even as she bellowed into the halls. Waving arms pantomiming a request that she stop shouting, bringing a finger in front of the beak of its mask in frantic shushing motions in vain until only the distant echoes remained.

Ahnciel had not considered the idea of anyone in the middle of a jailbreak making so much noise. There was nothing to be done about it, now, and who could say what had overheard her. Ahnciel's intricately metal-clad arms jingled slightly as they feel to their sides. Their eyes seemed fixed on the anchor somewhat embedded in the table, though they had no interest in inspecting it as it was amidst the mess they'd just freed themselves from with the aid of the doctor who was leaving to scout ahead with the automaton, Primalia not far behind them.

Now more than ever, Ahnciel seemed anxious to leave, though they were conflicted about waiting for more of the party to exit the storeroom. Unfortunately, elaboration was made clear for the group by the sound of raised voices from down the hall. In a language foreign to the heroes, accusing tones and annoyed growls were issued before something came sailing down the hall, tumbling to a stop in the dim light appeared to be the gnawed remains of a severed human hand. Ahnciel's recomposed construct turned to the source, lowering itself into a ready stance was a collection of footsteps followed after the lone appendage.
Three figures standing around five feet tall stepped out. The one in front wore a helmet on what was at first mistaken to be its head before a single massive eyeball blinked behind the guard. They were shirtless, holding the supposed primary section of the arm up to a massive pair of lips on their belly which sucked on the stump for a moment before pulling it away to gurgle and messily sputter blood down the steps and over the table. 
Two behind it looked like how one might describe a goblin, though the flesh around their exposed and decaying teeth was raggedly missing as if having been eaten off. Redding around puffy eyes and sores across their faces made them almost seem like the undead for a moment if it weren't for their audible ragged, diseased breaths. They were pushed aside by a fourth figure who emerged, almost seven feet tall and covered head to toe in an oily black mop of reeking patchy fur. They abstained from clothing though the fur suited enough of the purpose and appeared heavyset to a degree where conventional clothing probably wouldn't have been practical. They toted a cliché club fashioned out of a large broken hunk of wood with long nails having been driven through it to stick out one side.

"Loud! Group sixteen shuts up!" the tall one roared in a strained bubbling tone like phlegm being forced through thick piano wires. It pointed at the group, starting with Pox before panning to the others. "More disgusting every time. Stay on your side!" they chuckled before storming towards the two would-be scouts, making to shove them back.