[i]"Now than... How is it that I've come into this predicament?"[/i]

Anari could not honestly remember. He remembered fighting in the hand of a particularly skilled spellsword, though his chosen weapon was more like a rod than a sword. Still, it was an enjoyable battle, very nearly lost their lives when that giant berserker came to cleave his wielder's head off, but they managed to intercept his charge with a simple grease trap, and from there it was just a simple matter of frying his meager intelligence with a ray of enfeeblement. But that did not answer how Anari was now in this dark room away from his former master and with these strangers. They were just as perplexed and confused as he was, and from their appearance, they did not come from the same area. 

As the mortals tried to make sense of the situation, Anari was looking around. He noticed the walls shifting, likely living to ensure they could rearrange themselves to suit the needed of the hosts. Or to ensure that they cannot simply break their way out of this room. So he wasn't simply taken by brigands. Perhaps some warlock who sought to use the lifeforce of these others to fuel some ritual of his? Wouldn't surprise Anari. The hows and whys would have to wait however, because even if he could somehow solve all their questions, he was but a mere bludgeon on the floor. He'd need to find a host. Taking notice of three men, he tried to send a telepathic message to the nearest, someone who Anari immediately labeled as "Doctor"(Sharpp). He wasn't sure why, but he simply felt this man was a healer of some sort. Anari had worked with some before, and they usually had no qualms inflicting the same wounds they could later heal.

[b][i]"You there! Doctor! Come pick me up, will you? I'm the wooden bludgeon on the floor."[/b][/i]