[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hSbxgyH.png[/img]
[sup][@Pyromania99][@Rune_Alchemist][@PaulHaynek][/sup][/center]
[b]“Unfortunate,”[/b] was Isidore’s only comment.

Without a proper belt to secure the arming sword in, he had settled for holding it in his left hand instead, and while the large-eared woman examined the slabs more closely, Isidore took in the rest of their surroundings. The twin moons looked as if it were out of a movie, while the sky shone with their reflected radiance with such brilliance that it still looked like daylight. The snow that covered the ground must have fallen some time ago; no clouds were in sight on either horizon. A Tower of Babel, black and imposing, sliced into the scenery in the distance, while the crash of the ocean continued to echo in their ears. What irony, that he would be reborn so close to where he had once chosen to die.

Isidore adjusted the chains wrapped around his arms, eyes flickering towards the direction of the rumbling. That overweight warden was still out there, wasn’t it? Good. Better it be out there making noise than lying in wait to ambush them. [b]“It’s convenient, the moons,”[/b] he spoke. [b]“Won’t have to worry about nighttime if this is the darkest it’ll get. But for now, let’s move towards the mountainside building. Regardless of how forsaken this area is now, I doubt the experimenters would be so keen as to house themselves in the same building as the experimented.”[/b]

Unless they were sadists who slept to the lullaby of tortured screams. Maybe one needed such predilections, if they were to create beings so twisted and foul.

While Nick occupied himself with looking for a portable stone, Isidore crouched beside one of the large slabs himself. The swirling patterns reminded him of the prison’s interesting décor, but what was carved over it gave him more food for thought. Placing a finger on the fresher carvings, he traced the path of the newer patterns, eyes narrowed as he too felt the energy that Augusta described. Using tactile sensation to commit such script to memory, Isidore then hefted up his sword. With a quick, precise strike, he struck the edge of the slab with the sword’s pommel, repeating three more times before a piece broke off.

He held that piece in his hand, feeling for the same energy, and then stood up, dusting off his pants.

[b]“We should get moving,”[/b] were his words to Augusta, before he strode towards the leftside building at a clipped pace.