We’d wandered into the courtyard of a dimly lit castle at dusk, drawn by a man gesticulating wildly from a keep far up above. It was difficult to tell if he was trying to get our attention, or simply waving his arms in the air for one reason or another, but was curious enough to draw our eye. We walked and sat on a stone bench in the courtyard below, gazing up at where we thought his arms might extend once more. But the moment we sat down, his arms quickly disappeared from view. A moment later a horrid, retching noise began—echoing as if amplified by a loudspeakerfrom the spires high above. At first, we’re unsure of what it is and fear for our lives, then cover our ears with our hands and cower beneath the stone bench, the only noticeable fixture in the courtyard. The noise continues (in a moment we realize it wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon). Once our ears adjusted to the nuisance and we realized we weren’t in any immediate danger we crawled out from beneath the bench and continued gazing upwards. After a time we discerned some renewed sense of movement. The gentleman was back at the window. The retching continued forcefully and then stopped, almost as suddenly as it began. A white object was thrust out into the air and fell toward us at an alarming rate. We barely had enough time to sidestep before it hit the paving stones of the courtyard with a sickening thud. It began moving awkwardly, dragging itself toward us upon its broken limbs.