"Well," says the man in the doorway, rather more primly and still somehow a bit more smugly than anything about this situation demands, "if I couldn't before--which I could, as a matter of fact, so your volume is a tad uncalled-for--I certainly can now. And so will anything else with unsavory intentions that happens to be prowling these halls, so once I assist you, I do hope you'll be ready to fight forthwith."
Honestly, were Gale strapped down to the kind of thing making him expect to be vivisected by an undead Sharran cultist and an army of brainwashed nurses at any moment, he'd be yelling fit to wake even more of the dead, so he can't actually fault this poor guy for doing the same. Besides which, it had worked, after all. Gale would like to think he would still have noticed a prisoner in need of aid on his own, but then, Gale would like to think he'd pick up on a lot of things that end up going over his head.
It's only occurring to him now, for one, that the man might have been talking instead to his...mirror image? Why one would talk to one's own summoned projection, Gale isn't quite sure, but it's a possibility. He's certainly been hearing and seeing stranger things than that, ever since he nudged that dead intellect devourer with his boot on the way inside to make sure it wasn't just playing possum.
"Let's see here," he muses, approaching the contraption with a thoughtful rub of his beard. "Hardly calls for magic at all, and that's not something I say often. A knife ought to do the job. Can your projection give me a hand, or is he not corporeal enough?"
my shadow's stuck
Honestly, were Gale strapped down to the kind of thing making him expect to be vivisected by an undead Sharran cultist and an army of brainwashed nurses at any moment, he'd be yelling fit to wake even more of the dead, so he can't actually fault this poor guy for doing the same. Besides which, it had worked, after all. Gale would like to think he would still have noticed a prisoner in need of aid on his own, but then, Gale would like to think he'd pick up on a lot of things that end up going over his head.
It's only occurring to him now, for one, that the man might have been talking instead to his...mirror image? Why one would talk to one's own summoned projection, Gale isn't quite sure, but it's a possibility. He's certainly been hearing and seeing stranger things than that, ever since he nudged that dead intellect devourer with his boot on the way inside to make sure it wasn't just playing possum.
"Let's see here," he muses, approaching the contraption with a thoughtful rub of his beard. "Hardly calls for magic at all, and that's not something I say often. A knife ought to do the job. Can your projection give me a hand, or is he not corporeal enough?"