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Post by Vicorva on Mar 30, 2009 22:25:44 GMT
Characters: Must be approved by creator Content: Adult Genre: Character Development/ Semi-Freeform Guild RP
Stranger
We don't know where they came from, but we do know that they're monsters. These... freaks, these abominations... they kill, they rape, they pillage. Mages have speculated that they were once like us. That they came from that power spike, like everything else on that cursed day.
Clearly they haven't been changed just in body... they've been changed in mind, too, if they ever were human. There have been reports all over Tamriel of the atrocities they've committed.
So we committed ourselves to their destruction. Their numbers are so few now, it's unlikely they'll survive the next decade. Nonetheless, we must be vigilant; none can be allowed to bear children and their lines survive. Should they mix with the races, we might all be infected with their madness. Females are highest priority.
The world will recover from this. We're strong people. We have outlasted the ages, we've built our empire. We destroyed the daedra. And now we'll destroy them.
Setting:
There has been a terrifying spike in magicka. Momentarily, commoners all over the world felt the rush of power that only a true mage has ever experienced, and mages simultaneously understood what it meant to be all-powerful. However, these moments leave their mark. Animals everywhere mutated into new, terrifying beasts. People gradually began to change... become new things, in body and mind, while still retaining pieces of the old.
Some went mad, and killed indiscriminately. Some were horrified by what they had become, and shunned civilisation. Because of the few who represented the many, these mutant beings were considered atrocities, and witchhunters, legionnaires, guards and ordinators alike set about their destruction. Few survived.
You are one of a group of these 'abominations', these new races, based on your original form and yet unrecognisable as what you once were. Feather, scales, fur, scissor hands, animal senses... it's up to you. Each locked into cells in the deepest darkest part of the Imperial Dungeons, waiting for your execution, its up to you to escape, to prove your place in the world, and to discover exactly what it means to be you.
The Races:
In this RP, you get to create your own race. Having magically mutated from another race, you are now unrecognisable as what you once were, and even the way you think has changed. You are still compatible with all the races, your knowledge and skills will be the same as in your previous form except for when your new form hinders previous skills.
You have only been in this form for a matter of weeks. The action against the new races was swift, so in your brief period as a new being, you have known only hatred and hunt. Adjusting to your new form will take time.
Abilities and Stats: I won't ask for specifics, but having changed, so will your racial abilities and affinities. This is expected to be very subtle and balanced, in line with the races already in the game. For example, you won't gain a Death Touch ability, but you might gain an affinity for destructive magicks, you won't have constant effect levitate, but you might be a bit more buoyant than your previous form.
Appearance: This will change drastically, your loved ones will find it very hard to recognise you at all. You can make your appearance whatever you want, but take into account the inconveniences, not just the 'coolness', of what you are doing.
If your character has wings, they will struggle to use them without being shot from the sky, and they will get very cramped in any buildings, caves, or enclosed spaces, unable even to stretch them. If your character gains a tail, can they sit on chairs the same way? If they have gills, do they also have water readily available, or a spell that allows them to breathe air?
Again, please remember that this must still be a race, not a monster or entirely new creature. It must still be able to interbreed with those of its original form, and will be restricted in the usual manner of a race in TES. If you can imagine it modded into Oblivion while you mould its face, its probably reasonable.
Race: You don't necessarily have to come up with your own. If you get permission from the player who came up with it, you may use someone else's race. I don't want everyone to be the same though, so don't be afraid to add variety either.
Rules:
-Have fun. -Stick with the group as much as you can. -Balance is key. Make your new race interesting, not just powerful.
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Post by Vicorva on Apr 1, 2009 19:05:43 GMT
OOC: Start close to others or on your own, its up to you. IC:
Siorra huddled in the corner of her cell, the moonlight filtering through the tiny barred window behind her making her translucent. Despite her insubstantiality, her colours- gold and silver against shadowy grey- stood out in the darkness.
Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her wings at odd angles as she tried to settle them without strain. Learning to use the extra muscles was difficult, and the way they were attached to her arms was inconvenient.
How did it get like this? she thought bitterly. Why? What plan can there possibly have been in making me this? For while Siorra was hardly the most terrifying of the magicka mutants, she was still being executed. When it came down to it, it might as well be for this as for any of her many sins. Still, it was frustrating to be finally caught, not because she was a serial killer, but because she looked funny.
Of course, it's not the shape that matters. It's the minds. The mutant killers... they weren't horrible beasts on the outside. But on the inside... she shivered at the thought, but not in fear. If only she had been given that kind of will! But instead, she'd been reduced to this paranoid, twitchy being with so many unnecessary and irrelevant features. What point is disappearing in sunlight when in shadow my colours shout out my position? What's the point in having such impenetrable skin when a hard fall can break my bones? Or being so damned light when I lose all muscle mass?
Of course... there was always her wings. If she had learned to fly, she would never have been caught, or so she told herself. Not that I'll get the chance... she thought, leaning her feathery head back against the cold stone wall. Tomorrow morning, they'll bump me off alongside all the other freaks.
Unless, of course... she could break out. But the plan... it was so risky. And it hinged very much upon her being as skilful as she had once been. In this new body... everything was so complicated. She might need to enlist help on this one.
Rising to her feet, she walked over to the cell door, arms stretched out like an acrobat and wings spread. Her feet seemed barely to touch the ground; she might not be able to fly, but each step felt like gliding when you were so light.
She gripped the iron bars of the gate, and peered through into the darkness of the hallway and surrounding cells. "Hello?" she called in a loud whisper. Maybe there was some chump she could enlist to help her escape. And then... maybe she could take her retribution.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Apr 1, 2009 21:01:07 GMT
Zinguzi's eyes flicked open. For a moment he forgot what had happened, the change, and discovering the smell of sulfur upon himself thrashed wildly, the fire resistant chain strapped to his foot jingling on the floor. He let out a moan when he remembered. He personally wished that he had been burning to death, rather than having to live with his current condition. He forced his mind back onto track. He got up and wandered over to the edge of the cage, clasping the bars. He released quickly, a sharp cold enchantment running up his arm, causing immense pain. With a gasp, he backed off, looking in the dark for whoever had uttered the 'hello' into the dank cells. He couldn't see; his cell was cut off from any windows. He extended his palm and a flare appeared on it, lighting up his surroundings. Craning his neck, careful not to touch the bars, he could just see a feminine, winged form outlined in moonlight and shadow through a cell. He felt as if there was a blur on her, however. Like he could see through her.
He tossed the flare onto a wooden spoon he had found under the now-charred cot in his cell. It lit up like a candle, and he turned to Siorra.
"Hello...my name is...Zinguzi Erelin...you...may have heard of...me..." He talked with a slow, meandering rasp ever-present in his voice, as if someone had burnt his lungs and voice box, and melted part of his mouth shut.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Apr 1, 2009 22:17:53 GMT
...and I wonder if my soul will be conscious for the process? And who is in charge of the whole Dreamsleeve business? Oh, what if I were to be reborn in this form once more? Will the effects of the mutations be in effect after we are dead? Or what of Malacath? I'm sure we qualify as pariahs, but I am dubious that his realm would be a pleasant place to spend eternity. Or would it?
Already speculating on what would become of him after his execution, Akhil's thoughts were suddenly broken by a voice. "Hello?" it had asked. Akhil was shaken from his thoughts abruptly by this sound in the silence, his chains making a slight clinking noise as he twitched from said awakening.
Then a second voice gave its response of "Hello...my name is...Zinguzi Erelin...you...may have heard of...me..." Akhil had to think for a moment on what sort of creature could have produced such a noise, but then remembered with just whom he was imprisoned. The mutations could have produced any wide spectrum of creatures, he had decided some time after his own mutation.
Akhil's cell was a normal sized one, but he sat presently in an even smaller cell within said normal sized cell. This cell - more like a cage - was made of a sort of mesh, too small for him to slip through. It was suspended in the middle of the room, the guards having figured that a fall of that height would kill him, and it was hanging from the ceiling by a chain. In addition to this, the battlemages, had placed a magicka-restricting enchantment on the spell, Akhil's prowess compromised by his display against his bird captor.
From his cage, the small robed man called out in response. His voice was small, but forced to be so, not by his own efforts. "Hello also! That name does ring a bell. Can't quite pinpoint it though, sorry," was Akhil's jovial response. "I say, what is that light coming from?" he asked, curious of the sudden growth and reduction of a source of light he saw coming from what he guessed to be a cell to his right. Awfully bright to be a torch...
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Post by DarkNova50 on Apr 1, 2009 23:17:13 GMT
Alex was vaguely aware of her body around her, hanging suspended in the darkness. It was both surreal and terrifying; she could feel her arms, her legs, feel them bound in chains, hanging uselessly with fatigue, but she couldn't bring herself to control them. She felt trapped...a prisoner within her own body, unable to speak.
She wasn't sure of how much time passed, just hanging there, before she could hear the voices of others, coming from the shadows. Though she thought she would have been anxious (after all, who knew what manner of creatures spoke in the blackness?) she instead found herself relieved at the sound of their speech, contented to know that she was not alone within whatever hell they'd put her in.
Oh gods, I wish you could hear me! she thought desperately, hoping in futility that the others might be able to discern her thoughts. But it was no use; she had little experience in communicating her thoughts in this new body of hers, and though she might have had more success were she in better health, she felt utterly famished.
Instead, she focused on simply letting them know that she was there at all. She focused on her arm; the same arm she could still see killing the poor Imperial officer on the street...his face still filled with terror...and she powerless to exert control over even her own flesh...
Shame and horror washed over Alex as these thoughts entered her mind, but she had to put them aside, for now. She had to let the others know she was there! She concentrated solely on her arm, willed it to move...until there was a terrible sound of thrashing chains to her side.
Yes! she thought triumphantly. Surely, they'll hear a noise such as that!
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Post by Vicorva on Apr 2, 2009 9:18:47 GMT
Siorra felt the warm glow of triumph as various voices identified themselves. Then she heard a terrible thrashing, the sound of something monstrous battering the world around her, and she started, feather rustling in her surprise.
As the light went off from Zinguzi's cell, Siorra became nearly transparent, little more than an outline or impression against the background of the cell.
"I imagine you're all about to die tomorrow, same as me," she called out, leaning into the bars before her. "But... well, I don't plan to if I can help it. There are better things to die for." It was ironic, that her words sounded so noble as she said that. Particularly considering I've already checked off most of my list of 'better things to die for', she thought wryly.
"If any of you are sane enough to want out, I have a plan. Sort of." she suddenly found herself doubtful. What if she got it all wrong? What if her plan wasn't enough? Being turned into a wholly new creature really but a cramp in your style.
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Post by webster52402 on Apr 2, 2009 10:54:30 GMT
A soft splattering sound echoed from the darkness of one of the cells, a thick, yellow, viscous fluid pattering all around the hunched over figure that had confined itself to one corner of the cell. It had spent so long now, in the darkness, in the silence, sure that it was alone... So long, now, contained in this little cell, caught after...
A soft creaking sound emanated from one arm, as it rose to the creature's face, sharp nails rasping across bark-like skin as it futilely rubbed away at the thick, sap-like tears that were oozing from the corner of its glassy eyes. It didn't do much, simply pulled a long string of the stuff off and stuck it to her fingers, but at least it removed the 'tears' if you could call them that, from her. With a careless toss of her hand, the liquid spattered across the floor of her cell, quickly followed by a swipe of the opposite eye, which spattered onto the wall opposite her instead.
She was just about to lower her head back into the cradle of her arms, which was held rather stiffly on awkwardly placed knees, when voices erupted from the darkness around her, causing the already tortured woman to jerk in surprise. The jerk seemed to be in slow motion, her entire body creaking rather loudly from the ungodly unflexible skin that covered her, but a jerk it was. There were others in the darkness around her... She supposed she shouldn't really be surprised at all, since undoubtedly other abominations had been caught, but with the darkness around her, she had been hoping...
A strange duality came over her as she listened to the other voices, though there only seemed to be three of them. She hadn't heard the jangling of chains, and even if she had, she would have attributed it to one of the voices, not to an entirely different source. However, she found herself listening to these three with both reverence and disgust, longing and hatred... These were other abominations like her, so it meant that she wasn't truly alone in this darkness. They may be some comfort... But they were also ungodly, twisted, and deformed, just as beastly as she was. Therefore, they were monsters like her, and weren't supposed to be liked... The conflict of the two, and the thought of a monster hating other monsters rose in bitter irony deep in her heart. She couldn't simply ignore them...
"Do you?" the mutated Altmer woman asked from her imprisonment, slowly raising her head. There was a new light from somewhere, which gave her brief, flickering glimpses at one figure. Nothing substantial at all, but something about it seemed insubstantial anyway... The others, she couldn't see, not without crossing to the bars, which she didn't want to do. Rather, she simply stuck to the shadows, though she did slowly force herself to her feet. Her bark skin creaked in protest as she painfully rose to her mutated feet, which clattered against the stone floor, like someone had taken a pair of clubs and was knocking them against the floor. She supposed, in a way, that was about as close as you could get to her actual feet.
"What better things are there to die for, exactly?" She asked, her voice a cross between a rasp and a shrill shriek, thanks to her mutated voice box. The result was an odd sound, that cracked and trembled wildly, dropping to a hoarse croak and then spiking back up to a high, crackling, almost splintering sound. Her vocal cords were just as inflexible as her skin, it seemed. "We're monsters... Just look at yourselves. What better things are there, waiting out in the world? Even if we make it out of here, where are we going to go? Skulk around in the countryside? Start a 'Mutant Guild'?" She rasped bitterly, from her place in the deep shadows.
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Post by Vicorva on Apr 2, 2009 14:05:07 GMT
Siorra could not see the spriggan-creature, but she did get a strong whiff of forest, which left her briefly puzzled. However, when it spoke, she wrinkled her small nose in distaste.
She had, of course, been referring to the things she had already done; she found it repugnant to be killed for being a victim, when so often she had been the predator herself. But she held no pity for the downtrodden creature in the cell across and away, could not sympathise despite being in exactly the same situation- and in many ways, feeling the same- herself. She only cared about doing what was best for her, and twiggy-be-damned.
"Then stay," she said harshly. "If you want to die, be my guest. You sound like you're already dead anyway." Aren't we all... she added silently, but she would not show weakness before any of these.
"Any of the rest of you want out? 'Cause I'll take you with me. I can't get out of here on my own, the guards would cut me down in seconds. But they're scared of us. One of you must be worth something, for them to chain you all up like that." As she shifted position, she fell slightly more into shadow, becoming more visible briefly as her golden skin, silver wings and white hair shone out from the shadows, before she was hidden once more in the light.
Remembering the raspy woman's words about after, she added, "And I don't see why we shouldn't stick together afterwards. Safety in numbers, and at least we wouldn't be treated like freaks. Of course... I'm going to find out whatever bastard did this to me, and make him put it right. Stuff like this doesn't happen by accident."
If it even can be put right... she thought. If there's any chance of me discovering normality again. If someone actually did this, and it isn't just the Gods screwing with us. By Sithis, my guild hasn't thrown me out. They consort with vampires, for sanguine's sake!
Of course, vampires looked like normal people. They were efficient killers, they could mix in normal society. In that, Siorra was distinctly disadvantaged.
But she wasn't going to bare her soul and weep in front of these strangers.
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Post by Vrek on Apr 2, 2009 17:23:49 GMT
Voices. He could hear them, but they sounded like they were echoing from a great distance. Even the barred door in front of him looked distant, the whole world seemed foggy. Suddenly, he jerked awake. His eyes peeled open, and the world became clear, and the voices loud.
"...heard of...me..." Vincent slowly pushed himself up, awkwardly getting to his feet. Using baby steps, all while running one giant palm against the cell wall alongside him, the other using giant fingers to guide him along the floor, he slowly made his way to the iron barred door, which the guards covered in a fine mesh wire, so he couldn't simply slip through the bars.
Other then that, he supposed he was one of the lucky ones, as he couldn't be chained to the wall. None of the shackles would fit him.
He press forward, leaning against the door, looking out towards the nearby cells. A few cells he would have been able to see into, were it not the a flame, making the further shadows darker. He guessed all the others would see when looking into ihs cell would be two large yellow eyes staring back.
He followed the conversation quietly, until it was silent long enough for him to get his piece in, "Well... How would you get out in the first place?" He was mildly surprised at his own voice. It was far deeper then before, and it had an odd hush to it.
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Post by FC4 on Apr 2, 2009 18:42:03 GMT
He was not in a state of sleep when the voices reached the caverns on the flanks of his skull. No, he could never sleep again. Hadn't slept for centuries. He'd simply lingered in spiritual stasis within a black soul gem, as his body sought it's own knowledge, and worked towards it's own destruction.
The blackened teeth and rotted lips allowed a raspy chuckle to escape from a fleshy throat, as the abomination that was Agrabal thought on such irony for another time since his transformation. He'd transcended to cheat death, prevent his own destruction, and over the centuries his body had begun to destroy itself through it's actions.
Lichdom; the greatest folly of mankind. The eye sockets, devoid of eyes, stared eternally into the darkness, which bloomed a softer blue when a fire sprung to life. Agrabal could see the walls, the chains that held him to the cold stone, but through the hefty edifices around him he could see bright clouds. He could see the pulse of magicka through the veins of the beings, feel their life flowing within their flesh. They called out, began to converse. One thrashed against her chains, unspeaking.
Agrabal was most intrigued by the blue cloud above his head and to the side, in another cell. It was about the size of a rat, but not shaped like one, and caused the rotted skull to tilt to one side curiously.
The unholy being chuckled again, a raspy cough that rang against the walls, before rising to his feet. Die? They may find that rather hard to do, my girl. But then again.... if my soul truly is back within my body... perhaps they can. His chains rattled as he moved one of his four upper arms, looking at the wrist. There, a small patch on his flesh that pulsed with life and magicka, brighter than the magicka-imbued corpse he inhabited. There, on his body, was life.
The octopus-like beast stepped forward, only for all three pairs of arms to yank back from his chains, sending the undead being crashing back into the wall. Already off balance severely from the four new limbs on his body and a tail that was likely meant for balance, the chains just made it worse, and he pulled his feet towards him. Bony heels scrapped characteristically upon stone as he sought to raise himself again.
Once back on his feet, his lower arms moved down to the floor, the fingers spreading along the stone to provide further balance. His head lifted with a creak of bone that was definitively different from that of the wooden creaks he'd heard, and he looked across the hall of his cell. Two eyes looked back at him, glowing bright within a luminescent body that lacked features.
"Iiiii.... Spellsssss... Telll... kinesissss." Agrabal moaned, unsure if he could even be heard.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Apr 2, 2009 21:31:54 GMT
Akhil, listening to the various voices, was unable to see any of their sources, due to the position of his cell. There might have been someone in the cell directly across from his, but with the darkness, distance, and mesh wiring all obstructing his view, he was limited to relying on his sense of hearing.
"Awfully abrasive lot, aren't you?" he said, jokingly. "But getting out wouldn't be so bad, I think. Though it might be nice to see what will happen after death. Maybe a bit better fate in the next life than in this one, eh? But I suppose none of us are that much worse off now than we were when we were normal," he added thoughtfully, stroking his 'beard'. But he continued as though he had said nothing. "In any case, I should like to see how you'd intend on getting out, if you think it feasible. What've you in mind?"
Akhil now paced about his cage in mild interest, making little noise due to the clumsily stitched fabric that served as shoes. The prospect of escape beginning to send a ray of prospect to the back of his mind, he began to examine the strengths and weaknesses of his cage.
It seemed sturdy enough, if a bit rough; it had been thrown together shortly before his imprisonment, he being the first prisoner to ever have to occupy such a contraption. The enchantment placed on it worked very well though, he could tell. So much as trying to spark a magical flame proved impossible. He would have to rely on some physical method of escaping the little cage.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Apr 2, 2009 22:49:03 GMT
Within a very short span of time, Alex became aware of several more voices, calling out from the blackness that surrounded them; a whole menagerie of prisoners, trapped as she was. Occasionally, she could make out an ethereal glimmer...a faint outline in the darkness...but she couldn't make out anything distinct just yet. But it mattered little; she was far more interested in what she had heard than what she saw.
Escape? she asked herself silently, still unsure of how to make her thoughts known to the others. She found herself quickly inclined to agree with the general consensus of the room, save a dissenting voice and a gutteral moan she couldn't quite make out; escape seemed their best course of action.
I just hope they don't dismiss this as the random thrashing of some mindless beast... she thought solemnly as she forced her right arm to life once again, jerking at the chains twice in quick succession, letting out a pair of clear metallic rings. She waited a few seconds, and repeated the action precisely, hoping they might at least recognize her acknowledgement, if not her enthusiasm to leave that horrible place.
Please...just don't leave me here!
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Post by webster52402 on Apr 2, 2009 23:18:36 GMT
All around her, voices were chiming in in support of their escape, no matter what they would actually do when they got out. They were still in the Imperial City, still stuck in prison, still chained, and still were outcasts in all of society if they even DID make it out of there, so they would simply end up wandering the countryside or making a small niche in one of the abandoned castles there. She was briefly reminded of a place she had heard of, long ago, in Morrowind where victims of the Corpus would be herded into a small building, and contained, quarantined... Was that to be their fate?
Bitterness and scorn at the others' eagerness to escape welled up inside of her heart, and she let out a rasping snort, turning her head away from the bars as though if she didn't look at them then all the voices would just vanish and the people themselves would disappear. She knew it wouldn't happen, of course, she wasn't that delusional, but as it was there was little point arguing with them if they thought they were going to escape. Besides, some of the words that the one girl had thrown at her... At least, she thought it was a girl... had actually stung her pride a bit. Mainly, that she apparently already sounded dead. She was trying to be realistic instead of hopelessly optimistic, while everyone else seemed to forget just WHAT they were, and WHAT they had done to get in here!
She glanced down at her wicked claws as she thought on that, glancing between them and the bars. She didn't know why they were all planning so hard, now that she thought about it. She supposed if a guard came, she could always just kill him and see if he had anything on him that could be used. But the guard wouldn't just come within arm's reach, they weren't stupid. They had her chained for a reason, and it was precisely because her hands were so deadly. Maybe if she wrapped the chains around her arms a bit and shortened their range artificially, then tried to goad them into entering...
Realizing where her thoughts were headed, she quickly looked away from her claws, lowering them to her sides. She was beginning to think like the monster she was... And it made her sick to her stomach. "Yes, yes, do tell. Let's hear this plan." She said halfheartedly, waving a claw in the direction of the main plotter's voice. Though she wouldn't see it, it made her feel a bit better to dismiss her as rambling. Shifting in the darkness, she chose to ignore the others, focusing on extinguishing their source of hope. She was poisoning the others... and herself, as well.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Apr 2, 2009 23:36:29 GMT
Something was in the cell across from him, Akhil realized at by the second sound. This time he had seen the glint of the chains being shaken, and something moving, though he could not see what for the life of him. He came to the edge of his cage closest to the actual cell door, straining his faintly glowing eyes to see through the mesh. He moved part of his over sized hood out of the way to clear his vision.
A scant amount of light given off by some very bright source in a nearby cell illuminated the hallway well, but did not pierce the cells; if anything, it made it harder to see. But he could make out the shape of something on the floor of the cell.
Akhil nearly jumped back as the thing clattered its chains a third time, and he blinked, perplexed. Could it not stand up? He cocked his head and said, with just as much cheer as before, "Pardon me, you there, in the cell across from me, the one who made the clatter? Are you injured? Can you stand?" He waved an arm, in the event that the occupant of the cell could not tell from where Akhil's voice had come.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Apr 2, 2009 23:48:20 GMT
ZInguzi thought for a moment; He had been taking in his surroundings, observing everyone. He picked up the flaming spoon, stuck his tongue out in concentration, and hurled it towards Alex's cell. The small wooden projectile soared through the air, illuminating each cell briefly as it passed. It landed with a clank and a hiss on the ground.
He returned his attention to the others. "I am...was...Zinguzi Erelin...rather famous, if I...say so myself." He wheezed a bit. "I'm interested in chances of escape. If the earthy one tries to...give us...to the guards..." He paused, thinking. "I may just have to start a forest fire." He chuckled coldly, an odd thing for one so warm. He picked up the pillow on his cot and lit it up, creating a small fire. He tossed it into the middle of the hallway; It clearly illuminated his cell. The mages who imprisoned him hadn't considered him a ranged threat; simply enchanting the bars with fire resistance and cold defenses made it impossible for him to harm anyone.
With the talk of escape, he took his time to examine the cell he was in; it was a standard prisoners cell, just enchanted slightly to make it capable of holding him. He figured that the guards and battlemages hadn't had much time at all to design special cells for him; the spontaneous surge had them up to their knees in mutants and criminals, catching them off guards. The cells were little more than improvised and enchanted holdings; If one got out, the other cells were not properly prepared for an assault from a varied mutant. He voiced his opinion.
"If we are to escape, only one would need to be freed; these cells are improvised, designed specifically for our strengths and weaknesses. They aren't designed to handle all of the other mutants in the jail." He grinned to himself, coughing. Although he had been slow to get it all out, he figured that was part of the woman with wings' plan.
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