Them? These dead bodies, suspended from, or anchored down by, chains that course back and forth across the room? Or us? The two sole living, breathing, in our fashion, Forsaken that swam among them?
You know where sinners wind up? Criminals tossed into the Well of the Forgotten?
The Pit of Criminals.
Methinks we’re lucky that nobody was home.
No boss, though plenty of room for plenty of them.