Winning Vote:
Option 1 – Insist on heading to the church until the storm passes?

You shout at the stranger, but he says nothing in reply. When you struggle within the coat, he merely grips it tighter around you and continues running. Sweat builds on your skin in spite of the falling sun, and the coat begins to feel thinner and thinner with every drop of rain that sizzles against its surface.

The bells grow gradually louder and, you hope, steadily closer. Your “guide” picks up his pace and starts to run full out.

*thooomp*

Before you realize what's happening, you're airborne, flying uncontrolled and unaware. The ground slams into you hard (or you into it, it's hard for you to tell from your perspective). You roll along in the dirt until what feels like a boot stops you.

“Say nutzing!” the stranger whispers in your ear as you're pulled to your feet. “Vet us be on our vay!” he says as you struggle to poke your head through the collar. “Ve—”

A crack of wood harshly meeting bone interrupts the stranger's words. Upon poking your head out of the coat, it appears the source was the back side of one of the mahogany scythes wielded by both of the hooded figures before you. The ashen color of their robes is matched in shade by the dark blades of their weapons. Each robe hangs loosely around the two, hiding every part of either aside from one exposed hand.

“The one in the coat shall be the Voice,” the figure on the left says, putting additional emphasis on the last word. The voice sounds vaguely masculine but...hollow somehow.

“We know you are tired, and this rain is not good for anyone,” states the other figure. “We would like to offer solace—”

“—if you are worthy,” finishes the first. “In the church behind us lie two doors. Behind one lies sanctuary.”

Glancing over the shoulders of these two men, you can see that there are indeed two doors on the front of this church: a large one leading to where services are held and a smaller one likely leading to the basement. Aside from the difference in their sizes, nothing stands out about either one.

“Behind the other...” The second figure pauses. “You are allowed to ask one question, but I warn you that one of us always lies...”

Edging slowly backwards, your back touches against something solid. Since you're afraid to take your eyes off of the scythes, planning an escape just became more difficult.

“And the other always tells the truth...” A flash of color appears in a glint off of the left figure's blade: red. “Guessing wrong would not be in your best interest.”

“Seriously?!” escapes from your lips.

Both figures reply simultaneously with “Yes” before each raises his scythe and shouts “Choose!”