1.2 - In Search of Sanity - The Dead Don't Dream

While the contents of the 2 vials with silver liquid elude him, Axon quickly identifies the contents of the other as an Oil of Align Weapon.

Iosef catches sight of what Axon found and moves forward to take a closer look. The silvery liquid eludes him as well.

Red Destiny

Grim moves back into the larger office where all the documents are scattered about. He stuffs the really sensitive files from the filing room into his backpack and crouches to examine some of the pieces of parchment. "There's a lot of paperwork in here. It appears to have been an administrator's office." He replies to the dragon-eyed female. "There's a lot of patient files in here. Maybe we can finally discover who we really are, if we collect up enough of these parchments and read through them."

"Knowing ourselves, remembering who we are and what we knew might help us survive. Let's get reading. The cultists and monsters will just have to wait."

It takes a couple hours of combined effort to sort through the papers to the point where you find anything of value about yourself, but at last you do!

You learn that your waking up together in the cells below this asylum was not the beginning of your time together. In some capacity, you had all worked for the ruler of this county, Count Haserton Lowls IV. However, it was that precise man that brought all of you to Briarstone Asylum and signed off on having you all institutionalized. This would have just been a few days prior to all hell breaking loose. The records mention that you are all amnesiacs suffering from some manner of fugue state.

Though the files are scant in detail, each of you has your own individual file. There is enough descriptive information that you're able to tie yourselves to a name:

You are Grimjack Harrow. Tattooed, scarred, may be exhibiting signs of schizophrenia - unpredictable. Stabbed an orderly with their own key after stealing it off his key ring. Watch carefully.

You are Razhel. Serpent-like eyes, pale, questionably human - some sort of hybrid? A terrible burn or scar on her hand. More research needed

You are Iosef Cosmol. Elven, poor eyesight without aides. Shows signs of nervousness when near others. Perhaps a sign of poor socialization?

You are Axon. Human, lanky - a distant look in his eyes as if searching for something that is not there. Terribly scarred. Something seems wrong with the way light casts shadows over his body - a trick of the eyes or some latent magical field? More research needed.

You are Elias. Human, muscled. Careful handling, as any resistance to care may require more than one orderly to restrain him. Seems to become anxious when he gets confused - gets confused easily in current condition.

"Axon. Ax-on," he pronounced. "It feels... right. At least I don't have to call you all by your features anymore."

He... Axon paused a minute in thought then continued, "I can't remember anything else, though. What made us all forget ourselves? Why would this Count admit us just before all Nine Hells broke loose? That can't be a coincidence. We were sent here for a reason."

"We al-ready know each other?" Razhel is confused. "Are we sure these documents are correct?"

"Seems that way. Of course, the records could be false, or the information mis-reported by this Lowles when he apparently deposited us in this place." Iosef shakes his head and squints in frustrated thought. "Regardless, I think we owe Lowles a visit once we get off this island. If anyone knows more, it must be him. Or, perhaps also, Adminstrator Losandro, if he still lives."

Elias...I am Elias. The notes make me out to be violent...like a monster. Yet, what kind of monster can heal by touch? Elias asks no one in particular as he stands there...with a stack of papers in his hand.

Razhel volunteers to take first watch.