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Rolled 1, 1, 3, 1, 1, 2, 1, 6, 1 = 17 (9d6)
Getting your bearings, are you? Shaking off the drugs, the inhibitor arrays, the suppressants, the memetic compulsion code-switching (no, not that, never that)...
--
There's distant noise like a rattling, long drawn out shriek, rolling across the halls, loud and piercing. Sigma can feel it: No sound wave, that. Something shrieking in their head - dying, fading, ending in a flash of fire and procedural operations.
The distant masters of this place seem the implacable sort.
>STANDBY
