Arcantas sighed as he slowly woke from his cot. Opening his reptilian eyes, he yet out a roaring yawn as he tightened his loincloth, brushed off his tail, and set his clawed feet onto the stone floor of his open cell. It was more of a cave, really. No door, no bars, no barrier at all.

The low hum of the antimagic crystals was a constant in large parts of the Pit. As a mage, he not only heard them, he felt them as well. It was a nagging presence at the back of his mind, present at all times. They prevented him from utilizing his spells at anywhere near their potential. This made it almost impossible for him fight against his jailers, let alone escape. The dragon who had been paid to keep him here knew it. As such, the mages held in the pit were allowed latitudes which would be otherwise unthinkable in a mundane prison. The dracon could wander around the corridors, visit other prisoners at will, and he could even wake and sleep at will.

The Pit was a prison operated for the benefit of the world, or so Arion claimed. The red dragon made quite a profit this way, accepting criminal mages in exchange for a copious amount of gold. Arcantas was a well-known necromancer and demonologist. His talents were in demand, so much so that rival contenders to the throne of a dracon kingdom vied for his support. Not for the first time, one of the treacherous princelings turned on him. Unlike the other times, his punishment called for banishment from his homeland as well as imprisonment. For months, the wizard tried to find a way out of this pit.

It all made no difference. Any serious escape attempt would trigger an escalating attack by the golems. Although mindless, they were capable of tremendous violence when the situation called for it. At first, golems made of stone would move to intercept a rebellious mage, followed by iron, steel, and adamantine golems in that order. Shaped like oversized humans with few details, they were effective at keeping the prisoners in line. For months, Arcantas had largely avoided the other prisoners, but at long last, the conclusion was inescapable: he would have to cooperate with the others in order to get out. He didn't mind working with other dark mages. Those he could trust to be selfish, manipulative, and conniving. He knew how they thought. No. His main problem would be that he might need the aid of mages who did not actually deserve to be there, the "good ones". They just might take exception to some of his plans.

When Kylaf awoke on her cot she flopped out of bed letting out a yawn here and there. She had a mess of hair and untamed clothes, she was in her underwear after all, she brushed her hair with a comb she made out of wood and sponge and putt her clothes and cloak on. She was ready to start her day and try to make new friends, she walked out of her room onto a Balcony that surrounded a huge hole going hundreds of feet down and about one hundred feet across. The balcony had doorways to rooms every ten feet.

She then began walking around the balcony looking for people to talk to, there were multiple levels to the balcony and she rarely visited the top layer because there were very few people who lived up there. And she felt it was about time to meet all the people up top. So she began climbing the steps to the top level *clip clap, clip clap* her boots would make this sound on the stone steps every morning when she traveled the steps. She grabbed a torch off the wall as she climbed higher, it was darker up top than it was closer to the bottom, she was feeling optimistic about today, a bit more than usual.

With a quiet murmur Azerus nervously glanced towards the dull distant shuffling sounds building up beyond the opening of his hovel.
His back numb from the firm pressure he applied against the stone cold solid wall behind him as he sat on his crude flat bed, pushing himself back into the last remaining shadows of his publicly accessible sleeping quarters.

In recent days, only noticeable due to his extensive time against it, Azerus had realised this shared wall had grown increasingly colder then expected, certain times worse than others.

But now as the other in-mates were just starting to wake, Azerus expected to find it slowly warm.
Azerus himself hadn't slept, once again.

He itched the dull symbol on the back of his hand. The irritation was one of purely mental fabrication.
The marking was magical in nature and could not be touched, felt, hidden or removed. The only thing Azerus could do to nearly rid himself if it was close his eyes, and even then he often still saw it.

He wondered if all the others bore a brand like his. Seldom did he leave his room and even rarer was it that he conversed with another. His thoughts were suddenly and sharply cut short as a nearby growing *clip clap, clip clap* startled him. Azerus held his breath as it got worse, the sound echoing off the stone walls brought with it the flickering glow of illumination.

Azerus waited in still silent anticipation, barely daring to look up at his entrance.

Argus woke up from a pleasant dream of absolute power, cranky and irritated. Now that he was up, he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until the day was over. He was not capable of napping unless he had not slept the previous night and he refused to be someone who considered sleeping a hobby.

He got out of bed and looked at the iron bands around his wrists. They were marked with magical symbols and could only be opened by an extremely well-guarded key. The whole point of them was to further sap his powers since destroying his soul gave him more powerful magical powers than normal. Right now, he would have to make all sorts of gestures and chant the right the words to restore a corpse to a pitiful half-life. Back in the day, he could simply look at a graveyard and will the inhabitants to rise and they would, even deceptively life-like until they took some new wear and tear.

He sighed, if he wanted this thing off, he might need help. He hated working with others, especially since his downfall had been caused by such. If it weren't for these pesky bindings and the dampening magic of this wretched prison, he would simply wait for a rebellious mage to be put down and then go through the proper ritual to program the individual to rise later and be his agent on the outside and his avatar in the land.

That had been a favorite of his, reanimating the corpse of a hero and then modifying it into a monster clad in pitch black plate. Why, it wasn't until he overran a certain kingdom that his existence was actually known.

So, he put a surprisingly charming smile on his face (not too cheerful though, that would annoy more than appeal) and went to look for allies. Knowing that people were most vulnerable to attachment while eating, he went to the mess hall to have breakfast and see if anyone else was willing to cooperate and take some risks.

"Menagar hurin lesotu." The low chant had filled the night, echoing off of the walls, frightening the guards, but not doing anything to get Ergoth's magic back. His knees were sore, his throat worn and dry, but he didn't dare stop, for if he did, it would be the one time he stopped that the seal would open.

However, now was not the time for Ergoth, his body retched unnaturally. He shot to his feet, leaning over on one hip, his lipless yellow teeth felt covered in some substance that he dared not to touch. After a few groans and cracked bones, Ergoth's personality had fled back into his mind, and Galladin took over.

Galladin's room was chilly, but he himself was always cold, a dead man never heats, and he was the deadest of men.

Galladin's head jerked to the direction of his door, which only he seemed to have, operable with a word that only Galladin knew, and even then it was thoroughly scrubbed from his mind every night. The guard walked over, Jerry, a middle aged human who seemed bored with the world, he was only in this job for the money. Galladin thanked the gods for that.

"Hullo Jerry." Galladin's voice sounded like a stone slab sliding against a metal floor, and every word came out slower than he intended. Jerry yawned, the black bags under his eyes were proof to the fact that he never got any sleep.
"Hullo Galladin." He cleared his throat.
"The duck jumped over the bridge my friend
the bridge my friend,
the bridge my friend!
The duck jumped over the bridge my friend-" Jerry began to sing, a song that annoyed Ergoth to no end, but Galladin knew this one.
"And never jumped again!" Jerry chuckled, his face didn't smile when his voice did, and Galladin was some kind of impressed.

"Alright, get out of here." Jerry opened the door, allowing Galladin to walk free in the prison, though he felt like 'free' wasn't exactly the right word.
"Don't go insane like last time."
"I doubt that."
"Why?"
"Because your pants are falling down, and that is too amusing for me to kill you." Galladin chuckled at Jerry, who simply sighed, allowing his pants to rest just above his thighs, waddling to his quarters slowly.

Now what? Galladin held a hand to his chin, rubbing against what remained of his lips painfully. Eventually he proved too bored to think, so he turned to Ergoth, placing a fist against the fourth seal, allowing him to speak to the evil being within, a trick he had learned soon after being imprisoned.

'Hey pal.'
'How I wish I could have possessed one of the others and killed you.'
'Don't wish! Do! Kill me! It'll be so easy!'
'Not in this goddamned place.'
'Well... if you're gonna mope, at least tell me what we're going to do today.'
'Let me take over then.'
'Nah, you had a turn.'
'Curses, curse you Galladin! I curse you to be infertile!'
'Hah, buddy, that ship sailed as soon as you took my lips, what girl would want this face? Also, you're sealed, curses don't really work through seals.'
'Grumble grumble.'
'The hell are you saying "Grumble" for?'
'I wanna eat.'
'Sorry? You were grumbling again.'
'I WANNA EAT!'
'Better, then let's go.'

Galladin chuckled, he enjoyed having a completely evil being at his mercy, though the more he spoke to Ergoth, the less evil he seemed, more like a teddy bear pretending to be evil, though what he could do if he got his body back had caused Galladin more than one nightmare.

The sound of bare feet against stone followed with Galladin everywhere he walked, like a wet fish slapping against a wood deck, a comparison that amused Galladin.

'GALLADIN!' Ergoth roared, it echoed off of the walls even though Galladin was the only one who heard it.
'What?'
'I want a burger.'
'I hate burgers.'
'Boo hoo princess, you're an elf, you're perfect, a few carbs won't hurt you.'
'Carbs?'
'Sorry, saw the future again.'
'Well... okay, we'll get you a burger.'
'This pleases me.'
'Great.'

Galladin sighed, he hadn't had kids for a reason.

Elodie rolled out of her bed. It wasn't much of a bed actually, just a mat on the floor. She opened her eyes and looked around. Today was her 3rd day in the pit. She looked around at her cell. The floor was chilly and cold. Around one of her legs there was a sealed chain cuff. It was hooked to the wall, secured deeply in and surrounded with strong magic. A frown appeared on her face. She hated being here, but it was "for her own good." All of her magic was just an accident, she never wanted to freeze the market.

She stared at the wall next to her. It was blank and had a seal written on it, in a language she couldn't understand. She reached out to trace the letters with her hands. When she touched the engraving it glowed a deep red and grew hot. Her finger started to melt slowly. She gasped in pain and immediately withdrawed her arm. They must've used fire magic to seal me..

Elodie layed back down onto her "mattress" and waited patiently for breakfast hour. She counted the scratches on the wall, one by one. A few minutes later, a clicking noise came from her leg and her head perked up. The metal clamp had loosened, and she was free to go. Her heart racing, she rush out of her cell, excited to be anywhere but there.

She set back her hair and tied it into a ponytail before entering the hall. The weight of her clothing made her feel safe and controlled, but it was obvious the cold was biting through.

The sharp shard of rock in his hand finally broke. He blinked and looked around. He was in his cell, in the Pit. He sighed, cursing his luck. He slammed his left hand on the concrete and was met with a metallic clank. He looked at his left arm. It was made of metal and almost looked real. It was an automaton, working off of his own mana. Partial glyphs were carved into it. Looking at the shard of rock he sighed again.

He needed glyphs to use his power, and his glyphs had been tattooed onto his left arm. The same arm his captors had cut off and replaced with the automaton. If he ever managed to finish carving these glyphs into his new "arm", then he'd have use of his powers again. Of course, to do that he needed a blade. His had just broken. He would have conjured up another one, but he couldn't do that without the finished glyphs. Damnit.

"125...126...127...128...129...130"

It has been an hour since he woke up in his cell, usually being up earlier than most in the pit, starting his morning off with his daily warm up. Shirtless and with the sweat dripping from his chin and the sounds of controlled breathing, Salamel was in the middle of his push-ups...the third exercise for the morning before it was breakfast time.

"131...132...133...134...135

Grunting a little from the burn in his arms, Salamel couldn't help but think of how careless he was, allowing himself to sleep while on the run. Yes he's only been in the pit for about 3 weeks now but never have anyone bested him before, capturing him straight out. No...his capture was too easy...his captors was able to sneak in his room after Salamel was enjoying festivities until getting drunk, thanks to a belly dancer who insisted on having a 'good time'...only to have been set up by her to get captured and brought in while sleeping and waking up chained and weakened from the drug that was put in his drink and the anti-magic crystals.

As upsetting as this situation was, being stuck in this prison, he's learned of come notorious magic users he's had the pleasure of catching sight of. He knew deep down, something was brewing....it was too calm....too orderly...not enough chaos or disruption. Only time would tell until someone would decide to make a move and cause a little anarchy but....for now.... "145..146...147...148...149...150"

Arcantas went down to the mess hall, if one could call it that. Finding some other mages there, he picked up a bowl and waited for the golems to arrive with the rations. Like clockwork, they filed in, carrying pots of porridge, baskets of stale bread, and pots of lukewarm water. Some scraps of meat were also brought in some of the time, but not today. The dracon didn't know what kind of meat was served here, and he didn't care to know.

He passed Argus on the way to the food, and growled. "No meat today, again." He hadn't even asked Argus his name in several months, largely due to his distrust of the others. It wasn't that Arcantas hated non-dracons, but he didn't have much faith in the abilities of the prisoners. And he had every reason to believe that they would turn on him at some point.

"Listen, do you want to do something about our... condition here?" He had learned not to mention the word "escape" around the guard golems, or words such as "flee", "flight", or "leave." He turned to anyone else who was in the mess hall. "Does anyone want to do anything about it?"

Argus was also irritated by the lack of meat. During his childhood, his elven mother had been a vegetarian which meant that meat was a very rare treat for him. Once he became an adult, he practically went full carnivore. He preferred the meat of large farm animals, be it cow, goat, sheep, pig or even horse.

The dragon-man (Argus knew there was a proper term but could not recall it) seemed prickly but he had just said something very interesting. Not the complaint about the lack of meat, but the mention of escape. Argus walked over to the table where the dracon (that was the word!) was sitting with his tray and sat down.

"I'm sure we would all like to but I have the courage to act. Do you have a plan by any chance?" Argus also took care not to say escape or any synonym of it near the golems after watching others do so.

Galladin entered the mess hall, to find the golems distributing "Meat", or as everyone else called it, bread. He huffed, not pleased with this, not that he could complain, but it was just boring to have over a hundred years of nothing but mystery "meat".

'No burgers.'
'Kill them then.'
'That's your answer to everything.'
'And did it fail me?'
'Yes actually.'
'...Can we please kill them?'
'I appreciate the politeness, but no.'

Hearing the discussion of escape from across the room, he sat silently, and began chowing on his "meat", watching with furrowed brow. The draconian addressed the whole room, avoiding the words "Escape" and the such. Galladin's yellow eyes turned piercingly mad at the thought of them allowing Ergoth to join them, and how large a can of worms that would open.

'We're joining them.'
'Ergoth.'
'Ergoth what? Would you rather sit another hundred years in this godless place?'
'Yes actually.'
'Why? Would you not rather live your life again!?'
'I'd love to live my life again, but I'm kinda sharing a body with you.'
'I won't kill unless they're eeevil.' Ergoth began to make fun of Galladin's heroic status, saying the word "Evil" many times, often followed by an "Ooo". Galladin began to actually consider the draconian's offer, maybe being contained was only getting him closer to becoming Ergoth again, he'd noticed that it had become harder and harder for him to maintain control of his body, and Ergoth often got much more time in the body than Galladin...

He sighed, still staring at the draconian.
'Fine, but only so that I can find out how to make you weaker.'
'Better than nothing I guess, at least I can speak to the gods again.'
'Yes, yes, I'll let you talk to your buddies.'
'I hate the gods.'
'Yes, yes, you're an arse, we get that, now I'm going to bite, and you'd better sit right there and not do anything.'
'Woo.' Galladin moved his hand from his chest, using it to push himself from his chair. He cleared his throat, but it did little to make his voice any less... dead.

"Draconian! I'll join you, but you had better behave, I'd rather not have to hurt you, clerics don't usually do that."
'Daww, you ruined it.'
'How so?'
'Now he thinks you're an arse.'
'Hey, as long as you're in here, I'm half arse anyways.'
'I'm not a donkey Galladin.'
'It's a figure of speech, you just used it a second earlier.'
'Did I? I don't believe I did.'
'You can see the damned future, yet you can't remember a few seconds ago?'
'Is that a problem?'
'Kind of, yes.' Galladin attempted to shut Ergoth's response out of his head, instead focusing on the room.

Argus looked at the strange man demanding that the dracon behave. He was incredibly confused as to what cleric-boy was thinking. Behave? BEHAVE?! This was a prison for wizards! Who did this fool think he was, sort sort of angel!? Argus opened his mouth to speak irately "What goes on in that noggin of yours? You are in a prison not a timeout for naughty children!" He was about to continue but then he shut his yap remembering that he needed allies. "Terribly sorry, allow me to introduce myself and try again. My name is Argus Tlamreyl. I am simply a little confused as to why you felt the need to mention behaviour. I presume you are willing to harm non-living men of stone and metal?"

Arcantas sighed, and addressed each issue, turning to each of the others.

"First, I am a dracon. Not a draconian. Those have wings. I don't. Second, it doesn't matter to me how any of you behave. They put me in here because I summoned demons and made the dead walk. I'd say that my 'behavior' is just about irrelevant at this point. It matters not to me how you act, but of what value you can bring to this endeavor. If you wish watch over my behavior, you might as well join the golems."

He turned to Argus. "As for a plan, not yet. I'd need to know what powers we have and what we can use while incapacitated here."

Arcantas stared at Galladin, using some magic. At least, what little would work under the anti-magic fields. He focused for a second, his words silently transmitted at the speed of thought.

'You, fiend! Demon! Devil! Whatever you are, can you hear me?' I sensed you a while ago, and I don't think our communication will be detected by the guards!

At Arcantas's mention of taking inventory of powers Argus speaks. "You said you summoned fiends and made the dead walk. I did the same for the most part. I also studied some combat magics but those are mostly suppressed except for one little trick." With that, he conjured a fireball the size of his palm before extinguishing it. However, Argus failed to mention his crowning achievement of sacrifing his soul not to a fiend or a dark god but to the void and the dark arts themselves.

'Told you you look like an arse.' Galladin frowned, resting his hand against his table.
'You know what? He's right, so instead of confront this mental dilemma, I'd rather let you handle this.' Galladin's eyes rolled back in his head, and he jerked around in his chair, many of his joints bending backwards, and the many tears in his body bled due to the force at which he shook.
'Re-really?'
'Yeah, you're less concerned with the morals of what counts as living or not, so, have fun.'
'You know how terrible a decision this is, right?'
'Far too well.'

Ergoth stopped taking control of the body, as he managed to hear the dracon speaking to him, the body stopped convulsing and went limp.
'You uh... gonna take that?'
'Shut up, you can handle a moral dilemma for a minute.' The body's eyes shot open, and he pulled himself back out of his chair.
"*Ahem* Well if you must know, I'm not really a villain, I'm Galladin of the bright touch, the famed healer? I apologize for not knowing the difference between Draconian and Dracon, not that it matters. I'm not going to take action for now, I'll let you monsters do whatever you want, I'll just reap the rewards, as you do." He then sat back in his chair, smugly smirking.

'Dracon, you really don't understand who you are speaking to, but if you want my aid, then I shall offer it, listen, if we're going to leave, then I need you to find some way to unlock the seals on my host's chest, if that is done, then this prison will collapse like a house of cards before me. Your kind are untrustworthy, dealing where you don't belong, act against my host and feel the full wrath of my power upon you, for Galladin is weak, but I'd rather be harbored within him than any construct form.'

As Kylaf clmbed to the top of the last flight of stairs she bagan walking around the balcony she could feel a 'presence' in one of the rooms she stopped directly in front of the door she could feel the presence coming from and sed "is anyone in there?" In the softest voice she could, making sur not to startle the person inside. She reached down and grabbed a rock and used it to knock on the stone wall.

Elodie collected her daily food ration and spotted out 3 men. One looked to be a short, dwarf with elven features. The other was some sort of a walking humanoid dragon, a species Elodie has never encountered. The 3rd one was wearing a light gray cloth. Theres was a lot of ruckus going on, but she heard the words "escape" and "fight" leak out of the conversation. She was struck with a thought of curiosity and hope, that maybe she wont have to accept her capture. Her eyes locked on the men, she planned to sit down next to them.

Rushing to a golem, She looked down at her rations. Cold stale bread, and water with ice in it. At least the guards were kind enough to give her ice cubes, warm water would cause her discomfort. She stuffed her mouth with bread, and sat down next to them. Her chair made a notable squeak, and she took a sip of her water. Okay... look confident... thats all you have to do. She adjusted her hips and sat in a lazy position. So uhhh... what are you.. what are you guys talking about? She had a doubtful look on her face. Of course she was socially awkward, she always is. But it doesn't stop her from making new "friends."

Argus smiled warmly at the newcomer recognizing shyness. "Glad you asked! We're recruiting prisoners who no longer wish to be prisoners in an attempt to correct our unfortunate condition of captivity." He gestured subtly to the guards. "Thing about these golems is that they're programmed a certain way with magic and if you say the wrong word, they'll think you need to be neutralized."

"Yes, so please, don't say the 'e' word, or anything close to it. I can't believe I have to say this, but watch your language, everybody!" Arcantas sighed. As he spoke with his mouth, he continued to speak to the demon with his mind. Arcantas was not a dedicated psionic, but he knew how to speak to certain beings with his thoughts alone. It wouldn't work on most mortals, or for most non-fiends. In fact, he could only use his thoughts to talk to beings which were naturally open to psionic communication.

'Really? You'd look great in an adamantine suit. A virtually indestructible body which lasts for thousands of years. No need to eat or sleep, no excretion either. If you stick with me, I can arrange for that to happen. As for your host, I think I can do something to help. Thing is, you're no good without a host, are you? I'm not letting you into my scales.'

"Now, everyone! I need to know what you all can and cannot do under the circumstances, with magic. We aren't being watched by living creatures, so our discussion isn't going to be interfered with as long as we avoid certain topics and phrases. As you all know first-hand, saying certain words can and will result in a painful beating."

"You have already seen my little fire trick. However, with proper time and ritual I can reanimate one corpse at a time." He then gestures to the metal bands around his wrists "If these were removed, more options would be available."