"Well I figured just sending the Magbots to hunt down every last wolf in the region would've been both bad for morale and also might completely screw up the ecosystem. Forcibly relocating them seemed the least messy way to deal with the problem, short of hiring a druid to negotiate with the things, but you can imagine what people would say if they heard I needed the help of some shapeshifting hippie freak with a bear for a wife." Hey now Magtok, rude. Not every druid marries a wild animal. Some of them are actually completely sane, and don't live in a hut in the middle of the woods, subsisting on a diet of centipedes, owlbears, and wild berries. Anyway, the cyborg continues on ahead, stepping through the doorway that the dire cyberwolf had charged through. Thankfully, it was all alone, and if there were any other creatures in the area, that loud clanging sound seems to have scared them away. He moves to the door leading down to the staircase, not trusting the elevator under these conditions. The stairwell looks mostly okay, but it just kinda stops just after the fourth floor, with the rest of the staircase lying in a broken, mangled heap in a dark pit at the bottom of the stairwell. Of course, things couldn't possibly ever be easy, could they? Bah. I guess they'll just have to find a way down from the fourth floor, then. Maybe there's another staircase they could use, or a bomb they could set off to blow a hole in the floor/fifth floor's ceiling.

"If it's any consolation, I may not want to kill you, but I have died plenty of times before. Well, other Magtok clones have, but with memory transfers and the same genetic structure, it's basically the same thing as dying and coming back to life. Sorta. Dying used to be one of the things I was really good at, too. I've been shot dead, stabbed to death, fragged, burned, bludgeoned, beheaded, harpooned..." Magtok goes on and on, naming just about every violent cause of death you can imagine. The whole MagClone thing used to see a lot more use, back when the world was a hundred times more vicious, and more than half the population was some sort of deity or demigod. These days, a normal human civilian can actually walk down the street without being struck by lightning, which was completely unheard of back then.

"The worst was probably the harpoon death, though that was more timing than anything. That clone had just proposed to his girlfriend, when suddenly some human supremacist asshats with this thing about miscegenation show up and shoot him with an actual harpoon. I mean, there's some lousy ways to die, and then there's that. We sorted it all out and got them back together again later, though." Magtok shrugs, as if regularly making a complete mockery of human mortality were no different than any other wacky anecdote one might share.

As for the fourth floor, (assuming Asaigh followed him down there, of course) it's dark. Incredibly dark, since the power is out and there's no sunlight streaming in to these depths. Magtok isn't too bothered by that, since he's got his cyborg eye and doesn't have to trip over any more vines down here, but Asaigh might not be so lucky. Or maybe she is and reptile people can see in the dark, I don't know. If she can see through all the spooky gloom, she'll probably notice that this floor is largely devoted to lab space and Magtok's various scientific pursuits, with large sheets of glass instead of walls separating the 'rooms,' all kinds of strange bodies floating in large glass tubes, beakers and vials of colorful chemicals broken and scattered across the floor, and a large aquarium tank containing a lone octopus, hard at work cobbling together a suit of armor from the scraps of metal that have fallen into its tank, and completely unaware of the building's new visitors. There's no robots in sight, though. No death ray blueprints, MagBot designs, or shiny new spider-mechas roaming the halls in search of prey. Nothing shiny or chrome down here; I guess Magtok preferred to keep all of his more mechanical creations sequestered elsewhere?