ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ - advanced roleplay discussion

(view spoiler)[All credit goes to Jac and Leena (hide spoiler)]



They aren't so common, in fact it's one of the very few in Illea. Secluded from civilization and buried in thickets of vines and overgrown trees, a clearing where distant screams and wails can be heard. It isn't a haunted refuge; it's a mental asylum. A place; the only place where people who are mentally unfit to live with others or may be a danger to others safety. Enter with caution, or hands might grope for you, someone may embrace you thinking your their lost daughter; or attempt to kill you because they think you're the one that ruined their life. The dilapidated structure is barely holding together, the condition of the place getting worse with each pounding from Mother Nature. The pain on the walls are peeling away, the wood rotting. The rooms are centuries old, the air musty and thick. Bars decorate each window; metal doors seal the entrance/ exit. No one's ever escaped though, no one's ever wanted to. They stay here, and die. Because they never get better. Visitors come and go, about 1 per patient per 6 months. But never more than that. It's not that it isn't permitted, in fact it's encouraged. But people are afraid. Because they don't know what made them like this. Because it hurts too much. Some people though, never get visited. Forever abandoned into the shadows of four walls and meek sunlight. There's a receptionist at the front, a new one everyday it seems. A log, of people who check in but never check out, and of people who check in and leave with broken lives by the disturbing and painful sight. They all used to have lives, they all used to smile knowing why. Now... they're aimlessly wandering bodies, begging to be fixed. But everyone knows... that when the clock strikes midnight... it's too late to bring them back from their own mental prison.

They arent so common, in fact it's one of the very few in Illea. Secluded from civilization and buried in thickets of vines and overgrown trees, a clearing where distant screams and wails can be heard. It isn't a haunted refuge; it's a mental asylum. A place; the only place where people who are mentally unfit to live with others or may be a danger to others safety. Enter with caution, or hands might grope for you, someone may embrace you thinking your their lost daughter; or attempt to kill you because they think your the one that ruined their life. The dilapidated structure is barely holding together, the condition of the place getting worse with each pounding from Mother Nature. The pain on the walls are peeling away, the wood rotting. The rooms are centuries old, the air musty and gucky. Bars decorate each window; metal doors seal the entrance/ exit. No one's ever escaped though, no one's ever wanted too. They stay here, and die. Because they never get better. Visitors come and go, about 1 per patient per 6 months. But never more than that. It's not that it isn't permitted, in fact it's encouraged. But people are afraid. Because they don't know what made them like this. Because it hurts too much. Some people though, never get visited. Forever abandoned into the shadows of four walls and meek sunlight. There's a receptionist at the front, a new one everyday it seems. A log, of people who check in but never check out, and of people who check in and leave with broken lives by the disturbing and painful sight. They all used to have lives, they all used to smile knowing why. Now... they're aimlessly wandering bodies, begging to be fixed. But everyone knows... that when the clock strikes midnight... it's too late to bring them back from their own mental prison.