@The Irish Tree @Guess Who @AdmrlStalfos19

Homura furrowed her brows, not impressed by this bard and his claims of being the best. However, what she was impressed with was his selfless act of freeing his fellow Draph first. The bright-haired swordswoman bowed in thanks before stepping out.

"I'm not fully clear why, myself," Homura began, addressing the small Dhirom's dismay, "but considering our shared race, I have reason to believe this minstrel has feelings for me. The unrequited kind, I'm afraid."

Once the guards entered the room, Homura immediately shifted into the best unarmed fighting stance she could muster. Being more proficient with blades than fisticuffs, this sort of stance was not the most comfortable for the Draph.

Ignoring the Dhirom's next comment on her standard-issue Draph ballistics, Homura's first course of action after Cayde incapacitated his opponent was to quickly dash over and snatch his blade. It wasn't curved like a katana, her preferred sword type, but it would have to suffice.

Now armed with a proper weapon, Homura gripped the shortsword tightly and placed it on her hip in a faux-sheathed position, then "drew" the blade, aiming for the unattended guard's neck to at least knock him out, but hopefully slice his head clean off of his body.

@GarlandDaHero,@Guess Who,@AdmrlStalfos19,@Sunbather,@Hyyde322,@Kal-El

Homura's target fell swiftly from the unexpected strike, having been focused on the threat that Cayde had possessed, rather than the unarmed prisoners behind him. His body fell limp, a trickle of blood running down his neck as the deep gash dyed the once sterling silver of his steel armor a rusty brown. Finding himself asked a rather crude question by the formerly imprisoned Copper Dhirom, Perkeo scoffed, putting a hand over his heart. "I may be a Draph, but a fighter I certainly am not. The harp is my mistress, and I-" he started, before being Suddenly barraged with pink flower petals. The musically-gifted Draph found himself being requested to save yet another from their cell. "Oh, sure!" Perkeo said without much fanfare, more than eager to free someone to do the heavy lifting for him. Unfortunately for Belladonna however, she was beaten to the punch, the two guards going for the alarm already having been dispatched, and the two that had faced the prisoners had been soundly defeated. Satirra was still in control of the guard she had sought to take down now, though, the man simply holding onto her claw in desperation as the small, radio like device sprang to life. Now, a message came through, saying: "Code 32E, We have a breakout on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd floors. Requesting all personnel to report immediately." Now, the group faced another problem: They were currently located on the highest floor of the entire prison, and their belongings, as well as escape route, were all located on the first floor, where every single other guard in the prison would start to concentrate.

To begin with, many of the group had been here for so long that the layout of the prison was a blur of details, and the same faceless, gray walls. If only someone who had only just been brought in was there...and, unfortunately, he was. Clearing his throat. Perkeo strode forward. "I erm...doubt that he'd much think twice of his own men dying, my angry draconic friend. He seemed rather eager to discipline them physically to begin with" he said, puffing his sculpted chest out and walking ahead. "However, fear not; So long as we stay together, I'm certain that we'll be able to make our escape." he said, rather loudly as he practically skipped off, expecting the others to follow as he went. It was clear he had absolutely no plan, save for trying to just waltz right out of Ziggurat.

...A sneaking suspicion might arise amongst them that dealing with Perkeo might just be worse than the gaggle of guards that were no doubt on high alert for another reason, given the sound of clamor and commotion that arose from the stairwells that lead down. Violence and curses lingered in the air, as flesh burnt below, and blade cut into flesh and bone. Blood, both fresh, and dried, lingered in those halls, and a fight should only be expected in this hellhole. And lord knows, Perkeo certainly won't last in it. Down the stairs from here would be the area where the more...unfortunate prisoners wound up. Those who's lives were unfortunately deigned too worthless to even keep locked up in a cell, were instead experimented on using various ether-based procedures, surgeries, body modifications, the works. A gruesome place to be sure, but it stood between them and freedom.

---

@Suku,@Enkryption
The two half-dead men blubbered rather pathetically about the pain they were experiencing before Marshall made his ultimatum. A rather ridiculous proposal to be sure, given that death was assured either way. One however proved himself more ridiculous by giving in, hurriedly answering Marshall. "S-Seventh floor! T-There's only one stairway that leads down, nobody comes up here but us and the warden! A-And erm...Prisoner Belongings! That's where your knife'd be." the rightmost of the two scientists said, and, before he could continue, promptly got spat on by his colleague. "I never did like you. Nobody escapes. Nobody's EVER escaped." the latter explained, looking Marshall dead in the eyes. "And you, an immortal freak who can get chopped up as good as any other schmuck sure as Crimson won't be the first." he said, before flinging himself out of his chair with his body weight, literally trying to crawl to get away. If nothing else, one had to admire his tenacity as his colleague found himself only able to laugh as he watched, certain that he'd be spared Marshall's torture.

---

Skathi's rampage continued as she literally tore through the guards that stood in her way, a similar energy to her own emanating from several floors far below. Before she could reach the exit of the floor however, she would feel an overwhelmingly powerful presence standing dead ahead of her, the woman from before who had been leading a Harvin by the hand, now standing alone by the doorway. Her small, far more politically important friend not at her side currently, the woman regarded Skathi with a small smile, and slowly approached her. As if ice was forming in her veins, Skathi quickly found her rage subsiding, instead replaced by a very simple response: Fight, or Flight. As the woman came closer, the storm outside of Ziggurat seemingly worsened, and thunder echoed in the halls of the prison. Rain, falling at a slight angle, splashed into the halls and the corridors, and even some of the cells. It was at this point that Skathi would feel a menacing presence not only from the woman, but from the entire prison itself; The very energy of a Primal Beast.

"I must admit, I was confused that you didn't awaken at my call, but...I understand now. You poor thing..." she said softly, her steps careful, measured, and graceful as she approached Skathi. Her's was an odd presence, so commanding of attention that it felt as if she were bolted to your vision, but her visage was one of fragility, as if simply touching her were enough to shatter her like glass. Even so, there was something malevolent about this Silver Woman, who seemed to not only not fear Skathi, but seemed to regard her as less than threatening. More...adorable, it seemed. As if Skathi were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. "Its okay. You don't have to do this anymore. I'm here." she said, smiling serenely at Skathi. Her words were like honey, a sickeningly sweet taste seemed to just dance off of them, with the same sort of tone and cadence that a mother comforting her child had, but...something was far from comforting about it. All at once, Skathi would feel her body tense, and a familiar voice echo in her mind;

"FLEE! NOW!" her Primal Benefactor ordered. All the while, the storm surrounding Ziggurat only grew worse and worse...and the woman only stepped closer and closer to Skathi.

---

@Shizuochan,@Burst,@Skyrte

Giddily picking the lock on a rather ornate looking lockbox, the blonde erune's womans ears perked up when she realized attention was back on her. "Oh, uh...well, being honest, I didn't expect this prison break to go so...well. I kiiinda figured the number of prisoners would drop to at least half while we made a break for the ship. Judging by the sounds though...well, we'll work out how many people actually made it to the ship once we steal it." she explained. It seemed that despite her ability to organize people into doing this whole break-out deal, it also seemed she didn't really think about getting anybody but herself, the pilots, and the guy who did the heavy lifting of breaking them out.

Whistling, the Erune woman put her hands behind her head and took a look around. "...Guess they pawn off all the valuables people bring in. Or send them straight to the 13 Heads. Ah well, no use carrying gold if it slows you down anyways. C'mon, we've got a ship to steal." she said, gesturing for the three to follow her as she slinked into the corridors of the prison, sidling along the walls and keeping to the shadows. In spite of her rather cheerful demeanor and sun-kissed hair, she almost seemed eerily at home within the shadows, a fact made even more clear as she stopped the group without even looking ahead. "Three Guards. Gives me an idea..." she said, before sidling up to the wall and making her way closer without making a sound.

Judging from the sound of metal clanking against the ground as well as some muffled screams, it seemed she succeeded, returning with three full sets of Zweite Military Personnel armor. "So, my plan is we disguise as guards, and get inside the ship past all the guards. Then, we can pick them off and get out of here scott free!" As she donned her relatively ill-fitting set of armor, she lifted up the visor of the helmet and said: "A bit stuffy, and reeks of sweat and disappointment, but not to shabby. Gilvan, you get one, and uh..."

Looking down at Arno and Kagami, she cleared her throat. "W-Well, you two can share one...stacked up, you're about big enough. Arno should be on top though, since his voice is deeper." she explained, leaving the threesome to ponder the validity off her plan. It seemed the guards' attention was drawn elsewhere, so for now, they had time to decide if this dumb plan was worth a shot.

Marshall looked at the scientists, and reseated the one on the floor. “Now, now, calm down,” he says, grinning. “You got names, boys? Homes? Families? Loved ones? Lovers? Surely, you’ve got each other,” says the functional immortal, “and, in this day and age, in this time and place, in these, most troubling of circumstances,” he slapped the piss out of the scientist that spat upon the other, nearly snapping his neck, as he raked the talons of his gauntlet over his face, “we can’t just devolve into such nonsensical displays as to spit on people,” he turned his backhand against the other scientist, raking his face, as well, “nor can we just surrender at the slightest provocation of fear and death! We’re humans, not beasts! Respect yourself!”

Huffing disappointedly, Marshall patted the two upon their shoulders, and then put his hands on his hips. “So, good news, chums, I lied,” he smiled, warmly, “I’m not killing either of you -- without reason.” Stepping back, Marshall started to look, and walk, around the room; searching for something. “You said, only you and the warden can be up here,” he says, “As such, I’d like to speak with him or her,” he wheeled around, smiling the sickest smile that a human could produce, “I sure hope it’s a her. I haven’t tortured a woman in forever.”

Dismissively, he shook his cursed hand, and resumed his hunt. “My assumption is this, if you called the warden, he, or hopefully she, will require a verbal reason for being summon, and then, you’ll whimper and whine, which will cause a problems for me,” Marshall says, “Alternatively, if I cause a ruckus, he, or, please, please, please, let it be, she, will come with many guards.” Marshall turned back, unhinged sadism dripping off his very presence, as he grinned inhumanly wide, before he seemed to start struggling to recover. After several deep breaths, he seemed “okay”...?

“Pardon me. I’ve been idle too long, I’ve some nasty, old habits that resurface as a result. As I was saying...” Marshall says, taking a calming breath, “Either option presents threat, so, gentlemen, you have to ask yourself a single question: ‘Do I wanna live?’... If the answer is, ‘Yes,’ then you have another question to noodle on: ‘Is the Warden’s life worth more than mine,’ with the a supplementary -- yes, yes, I know, big word from the brute, but bare with me -- with the supplementary question: ‘Does the Warden think my life is worth more than their reputation?’ and draw from there, your own conclusions.”

“Either or, I am going to ring the Warden up. So, life or death, my crippled, but still-able-to-recover-well-enough friends. This old man is feeling generous,” Marshall grinned, before his expression snapped cold. “Far more so then what’s decided to awaken at last. It’s not my Benefactor, and it’s not happy. So, pose yourself this, additional question: ‘Do I wanna die to the whim of a true Prismal Beast?’...” he looked back to the twosome, “Because, that little Erune girl you foundly poked at... This body of mine you like cutting up... This immortality you seek to understand... It comes at a steep price.”

Marshall closed his eyes, sensing its full presence and intentions, “And, it’s coming to collect.”

---

@The Irish Tree

@The Irish Tree

Proud of her successful one-strike-kill against the guard with an unfamiliar weapon, Homura placed her "borrowed" blade back on her hip and frowned when she heard that reinforcements were on the way. That complicated things, which wasn't good in the slightest. However, despite the predicament, there was still one very important goal in mind for the Draph swordswoman.

"Perkeo," the buxom sword fighter began as she followed the fellow Draph and escaping inmates, "rather than trying to escape as quickly as possible, I suggest we first make our way towards the prisoner belongings area. Something very important to me is there, and I'd prefer not to leave it behind."

“You sure Kagami should do it? You two are the talent, you know?” Gilvan whispered to Arno, “Just leave it to me or something. You two could be the helms-.” He was cut off by the Erune woman's loud speaking, she began directing the freed prisoners around, leading them quite capably. Arno just smiled back at Gilvan.
"Don't worry about it, we're freeing them, they're in our debt. Though it seems the issue has been solved." Arno replied, looking at the now freed prisoners freeing other prisoners. He smiled a little wider, with everyone out, their chances of escaping went up.

Arno followed the Erune woman around, he found her to be a charismatic leader, natural even. Certainly practiced a little at least. Her direction of the admittedly large group kept the guards from catching on and sending a whole platoon after them. It wasn't long for them to reach the Prisoner Properties room under her guidance, and Arno wondered how she knew the place in and out. She was a recent prisoner, just like him, but she knew the place much better than he did. For now though, she was leading them, and she seemed genuine. Her ulterior motives, if she had any, didn't matter yet. Arno was amongst the first to run in, already there were a few people rifling through the boxes to get to their things. Arno searched, and found a box with his name stamped on the side. With a heave, he pulled it off the shelf, the box smashing onto the ground and cracking. He pried open the lid and found his clothes. He grinned and with an audible grunt, surprisingly ripped off his prisoner overalls right off his chest. He tossed the rags aside and quickly slipped on his flight suit, many rigs, vests, and tucked his helmet into his jacket. The sight of a Harvin wearing a flight suit, comprised of all sorts of strange riggings was an eyebrow raiser to most, but Arno didn't care.

"Now I look like myself." He declared with a smile. He dove back into the box and pulled out a large handgun, accompanied by a paper box. The paper box held the ammunition, and Arno loaded the three barreled pistol quickly, then slid it into its holster on his thigh. He emptied the rest of the loose ammunition into one of his many pouches. He looked back in, a slight worry on his face, but after a few seconds the worry melted away. He slowly reached in and pulled out a strange key. It was a short triangular rod, studded with cubes and pocked with slots. On one end was a small handle, and the other end was a circle with a star shape indented into it. After gazing at it for a short moment, he pocketed it into one of his jackets pockets. His wallet was noticeably gone, as well with all the money he had, but another look showed that there was a slip of paper in the box. Shipping orders to some sort of research facility. Arno scowled at it and ripped it to pieces, letting the shredded paper fall to his feet. He then spit on them.

"Alright! Anything you had when you got here is in here...probably. Let's get our stuff and leave." The Erune Woman announced. She took a few steps before noticing something, "Let's...not touch that." she said rather quietly. Arno followed her gaze and spotted a jar containing a beating, bloodied heart. Arno blinked at it, scratched his face, looked at a nearby prisoner who was also looking at it, then said "Aren't hearts not supposed to beat when they're not in a body?" he wondered aloud. The prisoner next to him just shrugged. Neither of them were doctors or biologists.

“Right. Let’s not touch that,” Gilvan stated, he turned to Kagami and Arno, “Are you two quite alrigh-?” he paused. A look of sadness glinted in his eyes. Arno rose an eyebrow, and gave Gilvan an o-k hand gesture, to signify that he was good to go. Gilvan turned to the Erune Woman. “Hey… you don’t really think you’re going to manage getting all of us out, do you?”
Arno suddenly realized why he looked that way, with limited space, the prisoners would quickly turn on each other. The Erune Woman explained that she didn't plan this far, and that she would figure it out later. She gestured them to follow her, and Arno did, pistol resting in it's holster. It wasn't long until she had to halt them. 'Three guards' she declared, then slithered away soundlessly. That impressed Arno. Then a moment later, after a few grunts and clanks, she returned. Three sets of Zweite Military Personnel armor. That impressed Arno even more. Not only did she have a light step, she was capable of taking down three trained guards wearing armor, she was rather fearsome, Arno thought to himself.

"So, my plan is we disguise as guards, and get inside the ship past all the guards. Then, we can pick them off and get out of here scott free!" The Erune Woman put the armor on, "A bit stuffy, and reeks of sweat and dissapointment, but not to shabby. Gilvan, you get one, and uh..." she looked down at Kagami and Arno. "W-Well, you two can share one...stacked up, you're about big enough. Arno should be on top though, since his voice is deeper."
Arno looked at the armor, then at Kagami. "No way." He declared, "I'm not not sitting on someone's shoulders like a child." he spoke with conviction. He inhaled deeply and looked around, his eyes resting on Gilvan. "You're strong right? How about this as an alternative, I give one of you my gun, call it a 'trophy'. The two of you carries the both of us, while we appear knocked out, into the hanger. The hanger would be a place they'd want to keep secure. Any important prisoners they'd want to keep alive, they'd put there under guard. Presume we," Arno pointed at himself and at Kagami, "are the two important prisoners they'd want to keep alive." the Harvin looked to the two taller people in front of him, "We walk in, they let us in, then when we're mixed in with them we all get up and take down whatever guards are there and take the available ships. Depending on how many guards there are. We might need to just say the Warden demanded us two get evacuated from the island until the riot dies down." Arno added.

@GarlandDaHero,@The Irish Tree,@AdmrlStalfos19,@Sunbather,@Hyyde322,@Kal-El



Using the hilt of the blade, Cayde knocked out the guard he'd been fighting, finally putting an end to the man's screams of pain from the broken leg. At least he was alive, which was more than could be said for Homura's opponent as a small splatter of blood landed on his face. The redhaired warrior wiped it away as best as he could, but all it really did was smear sanguine liquid. He let out a disheartened sigh, closed his eyes, and gave himself a moment to think. Only seconds would pass when those azure colored orbs reappeared, filled with a determination which hadn't been there before. He wanted to escape.

Looting the guard's belt for the attached sheath and radio, Cayde approached his fellow escapees. "Take what you can from them, especially the radios. They'll be helpful in avoiding any massive groups we may stumble across and help us rendezvous back up if we ever get separated. If their armor fits you, take the parts that'll protect your vitals. Helmets, breastplates, vambraces, and so forth. Leave the rest though, we don't have time to take it all," he advised.

Once upon a time, Cayde was a captain in charge of an entire small company of soldiers. Now here he was with only six fellow misfits and abysmally low odds to ever even see the exit of this prison. Despite every bone in his body telling him to turn back, the soldier stood his ground, ready to go through hell with his new comrades if it meant leaving their cells behind.

@Guess Who,@The Irish Tree,[@AdmiralStalfos19],@Sunbather,@Kal-EL

The Prison was in full chaos as the prisoners broke free from their cells. The silence of the corridors were now replaced by shouting and alarms. The air hung frozen in time with a certain stillness as they planned for their next move, the woman knew escaping was not going to be easy and getting past these gaurds was the first difficult step...at least for her. She had never been much of a fighter save for arguements with the local rich snobs and now she had to worry about taking out armed gaurds. Her magic was returning but slowly, while she could feel it there, it was still weak, not even good enough to use on her sweat. She had seen the others take out a few and it looked like the coast as one of the other prisoners yelled out to take what they can and leave the rest after knocking out a gaurd with his hilt.

She saw the splatter of blood from the man's seemingly lifeless body and gagged at the sight of it. She had never seen blood before with the exception of her own, yet it was none the less disgusting. After she regained her composure, she ran to the nearest man with the least amount of blood escaping from his body and stripped him of his armor. She tried not to wretch as she gathered armor, weapon, and radio from the unconcious person and put on "A little big, but I'll manage" she thought. Surely they would have enough time to get the possessions they came in with "What about our stuff" she asked the man

Belladonna froze mid-moment, a throbbing temple directed towards the struck-down guard, her legs cartoonishly cocked in uncooperative direction. She was just about to get the bastard... "What a well-placed pounce," she commended Van, her lips quivering, befitting of her sulking expression. Despite her disappointment, the warrior couldn't help but appreciate the alleviated weight missing from her ankle; nothing was worse than witnessing one's own atrophying calf muscles, for they were almost impossibly hard to build up.

"I thank you, chiseled friend," she exclaimed, grabbing the burly draph by the shoulders in a sort of readying-for-one-last-adventure-before-we-split type of way, shooting him a brilliant, appreciative, almost uncomfortable intimate smile, accompanied by floating petals and a sweet scent. "Now, it is indeed time to escape, and let our hearts soar into freedom!" However, instead of gearing up, as suggested by Cayde, Belladonna fiercely removed the prisoner jumpsuit, letting the frayed halfs of the top dangle at her sights, revealing a simple crop top and a defined, sadly paled abdomen. "That scoundrel mustn't get off without punishment, then! To abandon his own men like you describe is... it's shameful! I say HE is the one who deserves some physical discipline!" While Belladonna paced behind Perkeo, she flexed her arms, almost strutting down the hallway. "I also second her notion," Belladonna concluded, nodding towards Homura. "I am eager to retrieve my belongings. If you so lend me your help to return my mask, I'll gladly fight for you in our escape-endeavor."

---

Maintaining a strong choke-hold on her chosen guard, Satirra took the time to look around and see what was happening with the other guards. Cayde was able to swiftly slay one of the forward-most two, and that other Draph had taken down the other one. But as she looked to see whether any more were coming, Satirra saw a man with blue hair wrapped into a ponytail, who'd been standing over the corpse of a guard that she must have missed. Now that she thought about it, it was possible that that man had rushed past everyone completely just to get to him.

'Huh. Guess we owe him one,' Satirra thought to herself, 'Still though, I could've sworn there were only three of them...'

She'd spent some time seeing if she could wrap her hand around her miscalculation but, no longer wanting to think about it, she slammed her chosen guard's head against the stone wall. His helmet would likely keep him alive, but the Copper Dhirom had still applied more than enough strength to knock him out. She was about to give the radio she had in hand the same treatment, but Cayde's advice had stopped her from going through with it. He did have a point about co-ordination being possible with the things.

"Slight problem with that, Cayde; we're all used to doing our own thing and there's not enough radios for everyone," Satirra mentioned, "We've only got four of the things and there's six of us. Seven if you count 'pansy-fist' over there."

She made sure to emphasize the imaginary 'n' in pacifist, as if to take a slight jab at Perkeo's lack of will to fight.

With that, Satirra position herself behind everyone else and set the unconscious guard down to one side, before kneeling down and brandishing her claws. Assuming the Ether-lock had worn off on her completely, she should be able to dig through this floor like a hot knife would cut through butter. Infusing her claws with her Earth magic would allow her to break through any material that it could possibly have been made of, and if arcanists had a hand in reinforcing its structure, she'd know about it. In any case, it was better that Satirra test her theory right now, rather than try to do it in desperation and find that it was completely impossible. She could easily catch up to everyone if breaking through the floor wasn't going to happen. Furthermore, it was still very possible that the resulting hole would fail to lead anywhere, or that the fall would be too great for anyone else to make it down without injury. In both of those events, it made little sense to dig the hole in a position where it would be in everyone else's way; hence why Satirra made that slight backtrack.

"Aight, I'ma see if I can dig a hole real quick," she told Cayde, "If that guard I knocked out comes to, make sure no-one gets a knee-jerk reaction from it and tries to kill him. He'd have been a modern art piece by now if I didn't think he'd have the slightest value to us alive."

Trusting Cayde would know what to do from there, Satirra set to work, mustering as much of her Earth magic as she could while she clawed away at the floor. Time would tell if any of the scratches she'd make would pay off in the long run.

@The Irish Tree



Skathi knew what she was facing was above her league her benefactor screaming at her to flee only reinforced the idea. With a quick movement, she turned and fleed running down the halls she had wreaked havoc in not that long ago. The hunter has become the hunter "run" she muttered as she pushed herself faster that was not human that presence that was like her own benefactor a primal... But why though was a question Skathi vowed she would find out. Though first, she had to escape running down the halls did her previous actions come to mind. She slaughtered soldiers in her rage lives taken before their time due to her madness. "I'm sorry I pray for your souls to find rest" She muttered as she ran not daring to look back. The examples of mad rage passing her as she ran making her regret what she had done more and more.

@GarlandDaHero,@Guess Who,@AdmrlStalfos19,@Sunbather,@Hyyde322,@Kal-El

Lost in the flow of things, Perkeo kept trying to speak up, only to be cut off by an actually important, or just overall sensible suggestion. A such, he opted to keep his mouth shut, but did turn to Homura, a smile on his face. "But of course! I too, have something important to retrieve. I know the way, thankfully. They stripped me of my belongings and threw me up here right away. We'll find your mask there, Miss. As well as my instrument." he said, turning and following the trail that Vandesdelca was blazing.

Satirra's ability to dig, she would find, was still for the most part repressed, as was Sasha's magic, and the other members of the Solitary Confinement crew would similarly find that, for the most part, their Ether-based abilities were returning, but at an incredibly slow pace. Belladonna's flower petals were the extent of what SHE was capable of, and as such Satirra would feel that she could certainly make a large dent in the floor, but not be able to go through the cobbled stone beneath her claws. As such, joining back up with the others as they walked was likely a good idea. The guard she had kept alive and unconscious wasn't getting up for some time, though lingering would no doubt give more guards a chance to show up.

As the group would progress downward, more guards making their way to the lower floors would get caught up in the whirlwind of armed prisoners that had broken loose, many of the Higher Security prisoners having been let loose and clearing a significant chunk of the guardsmen from that area...albeit at the cost of an alarm being pulled. Sirens wailed as the entire prison was put onto high alert, a radio broadcast suddenly coming in through the stolen devices the group had. "Attention all Personnel, you are hereby instructed to permit no airship to enter or leave until all prisoners are...Executed. Patrols 16-45 are to put the dock on high alert, and inspect all suspicious persons. The Seventh Floor is a priority for Defense, and as such all personnel stationed above are to report there immediat-" the broadcast was cut short, as sounds of steel cutting and screams echoing filled the airwaves. "...Worthless." Another, more gruff sounding man said as he spoke over the airwaves. "This is Warden Derrick. All soldiers: Fight to kill. All Prisoners are considered Expendable. All of them are to be terminated, effective immediately. Fourth Floor is mine. Bring anybody you can't handle here, and I'll handle it."

The air seemed to fill with dread as the soldiers that fought back against the prisoners started striking with lethal force. Now that they were getting serious, it would be reckless for such a small group to rush headlong into dozens of guards unarmed. Perkeo, ever a fan of the Pansyfist route, quietly started to move towards a less noisy path down the side-hall, beckoning for the others to follow him. Even Van and Satirra could see that there was little way to just bust through there, and the wall of bodies between them and the guards was quickly diminishing. It would be a long way down to the first floor...especially since the Fourth Floor had only one exit, and only one entrance. And standing there would be the Warden himself. They were currently on the 15th floor, and going further down would give more time to let their Ether-Abilities restore themselves to something closer to full capacity. Of course, those who wanted to didn't have to follow Perkeo at all. Understandable, really.

[Note: I'm not going to make you guys go through each floor, stopping between them. Just be aware that you can storm through as much as you like, but the only floors you're required to stop on are the 7th, and 4th floors.]

---

@Suku,@Enkryption

Marshall's intimidation was fairly effective on the already panicked researcher, but the other just remained at least calm on the surface. The calmer one winced as the blood from the wounds on his face met the open, choking air of the prison's lab. "Keep it in your pants, Freak. You might be immortal, but Derrick's in another league. Even then, one of the 13 is here right now. You're not walking out of here. ...Whatever. Get me a radio, and I'll get your death warrant signed." he said. "...What are you talking about? No Primals exist in this part of Tyragrande." the more composed one said, while Marshall got a radio from a guard.

Using his limbs as best he could, he fumbled a bit to turn the radio on and said: "S-Sir, this is Sohlt, lab crew. We've been taken hostage by a-"

"This channel is for military personnel only. Last I checked, you weren't military. And definitely not worth my time." the warden said dismissively, before the sound of screaming could be heard over the radio.

The more...mentally unhinged scientist started wailing. "WE'RE GONNA DIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEE!" he cried out, before Sohlt sighed. "Can you PLEASE kill him already?"

---

Running was a wise move on Skathi's part, though it did leave the woman somewhat baffled. "...Does she think she can escape?" she asked herself aloud, before snapping her fingers, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the 7th floor before she said: "...Seize the erune holding Griever's power. The contract binds, and the beast abides. Thy name is Charybdis..." before a violent bolt of lightning struck the top of the prison tower, the air becoming choked with Water Ether as the storm outside grew worse and worse, a deluge of rain erupting around the Prison Island. The water beneath the tower grew choppier and more turbulent, before those on the lower floors would see the body of a Primal Beast.

It emerged from a whirlpool, a spiral of white and blue on the surface on the water, before the hole that lead to the depths was devoured, replaced by a horrifying mixture of teeth and flesh, eyes and tendril, as Charybdis rose from the depths. It slowly spun as it arose, its full length spanning over 200 feet, its mouth wide enough to swallow an air ship, and its tendrils, all eighteen of them, were as thick as a male Draph. Floating roughly 40 feet above the water, those below could see the long, almost eel-like tail that its body ended in, smooth and covered in a strange frill traveling the vertical span of it. Many unblinking eyes, clouded in a milky white haze slowly turned to the Seventh Floor, two of them breaking through windows and suddenly barring Skathi's path. Blindly, the creature fumbled, slamming its tendrils against the cobblestone floors in an attempt to feel where she was.

Many guards immediately turned tail, fleeing from the Seventh Floor, only for a few of them to run straight into a tendril and be reflexively flung back out of the prison, into the awaiting maw of the Primal Beast looming outside. All those on the upper floors could see it, but those at the bottom would only notice its tail, and how quickly the morale of both sides was up in the air as Charybdis moved. Its sole target was Skathi, and it soon sent more tendrils in through the windows to try and bar her escape. Now, she would have to cut her way out.

---

@Shizuochan,@Burst,@Skyrte

"...Worthless. This is Warden Derrick. All soldiers: Fight to kill. All Prisoners are considered Expendable. All of them are to be terminated, effective immediately. Fourth Floor is mine. Bring anybody you can't handle here, and I'll handle it."

"...Craaaaaaaap..." the Erune woman said as the announcement was made, before the earsplitting sound of thunder arrived, and with it, an even bigger problem. Literally, figuratively, it was really, really a much bigger problem. "WHAT!?" she questioned in surprise as she stared in a mix of terror and awe. "T-That thing...that's not even a monster, right? That's one of those Primal Beasts!" she said, sounding absolutely terrified. Not only was that thing just...waiting outside, it was smack over the runway that airships would need to use to take off. A larger airship wouldn't be able to get enough space to make it off the island without diving helm-first into the saltwater below.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arno would see his pride and joy, the Akula. Having been locked and chained up in the airship dock, it seemed that, judging from the various tools and parts lying around, that someone had done some digging into his machine while he was indisposed. It wasn't trashed however, and he could tell that given an extra set of hands and a few minutes time, he could get it flight ready. The only problem was that standing between them and it were the multitude of guards and prisoners, regaining their will to fight, albeit now much further away from Charybdis. "Why does something like this ALWAYS happen to me...?" the erune woman said, holding her head in her hands. "...We're doomed." she said, before the four of them would be made aware of a very small presence...

"...What are you doing?" a very, very infamous Harvin asked, standing a good 20 feet away, a blood-soaked dagger in her hand. Who would stand before them, but Sielma the Butcher, one of the 13 Heads of Zweite. "Soldier. Why are those two not dead? And why are they in possession of their things?" she asked, her gaze cold and affectionless, deep-set bags under her eyes as she glowered at the four of them with suspicion, already on guard. Her hair was shaped into a tidy bobcat of lavender hair parted by the left, her hair sticking up in the center of her crown and curling to the right. Her skin was pale, unnaturally so, almost a snowy white that made her purple locks stand out even more than they already would.

The erune woman froze entirely, her voice catching in her throat as she trembled, having heard the rumors of Sielma's frequent alchemical and magical experiments, often using orphans and dregs from the streets, as well as personal enemies of her's. Out of all of the 13 to meet, she was undoubtedly one of the ones most lacking in any sort of empathy or compassion, merely giving the four a cold gaze as she walked over. "I asked you a question." she said, looking to Gilvan. The group would need to think fast to lose her. Fighting was an option, but where one of the 13 reared their heads, guards would surely flock.

Marshall paled, as he stared at Sohlt; his mind launched back into darkness. He was thrown, mentally, back, 1,904 years... back to her...

---

Marshall screamed, as the Touch of Virtue wound around his hand, crept up his arm, and charred his flesh as it was designed to kill those like him. Its light burn him, tried to purify him, and yet, could only sear it. Above him, she roared in triumph and delight; a woman of light and a beast of primal forces. Her figure that of a creature of darkness: a beautiful Drider with hair, silken and gold, that fell upon porcelain skin, shoulders fair, breasts full, arms svelte, and a stomach taut as her hips gave way to the hind and many legs of a spider.

The Lady of Virtue, the White Widow of Light, laughed at him. She looked down at him, and laughed, and laughed, without a single care to his misery. He was her slave and servant, her instrument, and her source of amusement. Marshall dragged himself off the ground, and he ran -- he ran from her laughter, her presence, and her light, as his arm burned and bleed.

“Bring seven hearts steeped in sin, one for each, and, with them, atone for the sins you hold yourself. Until that day, wander, forever alive until the True Light fades, unable to die, but able to suffer all pain and loss.” Her bargain, no, her order, rang true in his mind. He pushed himself up from every stumble, and rushed himself to Yoltaire.

Back to her.

- - -

“You -- You -- You freak!” screamed the love of his life, as she held her bleeding face. Marshall recoiled, his charred hand clenched tightly to his rope-bound form. “I didn’t -- I didn’t think -- I just wanted to --” he stammered, as he felt a blade thrust through his chest; blood spattering the floor. “I can fix it!” he gagged, as another rammed through him. “Just give me a chance!”

“You ignorant child!” raged the Grandmaster, as he violently stabbed at Marshall’s undying form, “My daughter is scarred forever! Did you not think this would happen, as your own body burns!?” Marshall gagged, losing more and more blood by the second. “I’ll see your head on my wall, you freak!” he snapped, biting his dagger right into Marshall’s neck.

And, it happened.

---

“I... am... not... a freak!” Marshall roared, lunging at Sohlt, and grabbing him. “Don’t call me a freak!” he screamed, as he took Sohlt by the face, and smashed his head into the ground. “Don’t you dare! I’m not a freak!” Again, again, and again; uncaring for the crack of bone and splatter of flesh, brain, and blood. “I’ll show you who’s the freak!” he raged, switching his method to punching Sohlt’s face in. “Suffer! Suffer, you freak!”

Suddenly, his anger was extinguished -- not by self-control, honed over the years, but a force of fury that dwarfed his own by aeons. “It’s loose,” he says, “Shit...” Marshall gathered himself, and looked to the unstable of the two scientist; the other mostly paste on the floor from the head up. “Consider this... a mercy,” he says, scooping up a handful of blood, before pointing a finger at him, and shooting him squarely in the forehead.

“No-one without the will to defy the Primals themselves is going to survive this,” he told himself, since his audience was dead. “Well, time to find my knife,” he says, before smirking, “A Primal won’t skin itself, after all.”

---

@The Irish Tree

@GarlandDaHero,@The Irish Tree,@AdmrlStalfos19,@Sunbather,@Hyyde322,@Kal-El



Cayde agreed to Satirra's request with a simple nod, making his way to the unconscious guard to make sure the man didn't run away or get killed by one their more brutal companions. The easiest way he could think of that would accomplish such a task was to pick the man up and push him into a nearby wooden table, holding the guard's arm behind his back. The guy seemed out cold, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. However, as he watched the hot-blooded Dhirom claw in vain at the cobblestone floor, the man decided to point out their precious time that was ticking away.

"Hey, I think it might be best if we just take the stairs. You've made some pretty impressive progress, but I don't think it's going to be any faster than running," he told her. There was no need to insult her efforts. Had it worked, it might very well have gotten them past a lot of the densest groups of troops, but time was of the essence. If the rest of the prisoners were contained before they reached the bottom floor, their small band wouldn't have a chance on their own.

The nobleman would make sure to wait for Satirra and anyone else that may have been lagging behind for whatever reason before they all made their way down. Most of everyone seemed very attached to their confiscated belongings, and while Cayde may not have been voicing his concern, he also was thinking about his Draethil-forged armaments. He could still fight without them, but they would make any future combat encounters much easier. Considering the life they would all lead after taking leave of this prison, there would probably be nothing more useful. So it was towards the warden they would go, and any other obstacles that stood before them as they made their way down.

Erune on the run

Skathi was on the run there was little to it as she was now forced to dodge tentacles when she can if not she had to hack away at it with her clawed gauntlets which were her only weapon at the moment. This was a bad situation she needed to get to her bow that was her only chance of actually dealing damage than just making the bloody things back down. With a plan in mind, she headed down doing her best to try to avoid the tentacles still Her claws glowed with a dark energy that often would have made anyone back down in fear however it only seemed to renew the vigor of the primal attacking her. "You blasted beast away from me!" She yelled in frustration as she was forced to attack another tentacle to get it to reel back for her to move on. Charging forward her claws creating sparks along the wall as she dragged it along it as dark wisps flowed freely from them before moving her arm in a quick brutal fashion leaving a large claw mark on the tentacle drawing the faintest of blood or so she thought. Though with it having withdrawn she was free to head down once more. Her path and goal set Skathi ran now was the time to make her stand.

@Guess Who@The Irish Tree@AdmrlStalfos19

"Thank you." Homura gave a slight bow to her fellow Draph in thanks, and then directed her attention to the armor worn by the guard she had slain. Cayde had instructed the group to put on anything they could fit into for protection, but Homura ran into a few problems with that plan.

The first, most apparent issue was that, on account of Homura's body being either too big or too small in certain areas, a good chunk of the armor wouldn't fit the swordswoman, the most notable piece being the chest plate, for obvious reasons.

The second issue is that the armor would slow her down, even slightly, which presented problems with her fighting style. For the time being, she was going to stick with her usual oriental attire.

@Sunbather

After making a decent amount of progress through the prison and hearing Derrick make his announcement, even specifying his location, Homura gave a slight frown and turned to the exuberant woman who wanted her mask back. "I'm going to the 4th floor. Now." Her tone was calm and quiet enough so that only the woman she was focused on could hear, her words as well being very concise. "If you want to come, we'll stop by the Prisoner's Belongings area for our possessions first. Tell the rest of our group to handle crowd control elsewhere while we fight the warden." The Draph then held out her hand. "Deal?"

---

"Soooonnnuuuuvvvaaaa bitch, this is taking way too long," Satirra groaned, evidently frustrated about the lack of progress that she was able to make. It was a commendable effort, that was for sure, but in the end it was futile.

Satirra should've known that the Ether-lock's effect were never going to fade that quickly, especially not after she had the cursed thing on for the past couple of years. If not for that, she'd already have been down a couple of floors. Cayde had mentioned that they were better off continuing to run down a few more floors first, and while Satirra hated the sentiment of giving up, she could see where he was coming from.

"Yeah, you might be right," she told Cayde, "Seems as though I underestimated this piece of shit Ether-lock. Damn pain in the ass thing..."

She got up on her feet, just in time to overhear the radio communications coming from all the other soldiers. It looked as though they meant business this time around, as they received orders to kill any of the escaped prisoners on the spot. Satirra had mixed feelings about this news. On the one hand, spending any more of her life in this hellhole would be trying at best. But on the other, she was made for so much more than this. For now she listened into more of the communications, particularly something concerning the warden.

"Hmm... we might be able to misdirect all the other guards into rushing right past us; that job would be much easier if we keep that one guy alive," Satirra mused aloud, "But that warden Derrick sounds like he'd be a stubborn old mule if I ever heard one. We'll need a plan for him specifically."

"...Worthless. This is Warden Derrick. All soldiers: Fight to kill. All Prisoners are considered Expendable. All of them are to be terminated, effective immediately. Fourth Floor is mine. Bring anybody you can't handle here, and I'll handle it."
Arno glanced up at the ceiling with an eyebrow raised, but before he could formulate a reply, a thunderclap of noise reverberated throughout the halls. Arno was no stranger to loud noises, the engine of his airship was deafening if you were standing next to it, but the suddenness of this made him jump and go into a readied stance. As soon as the sound stopped, Arno looked over to the source of the noise. A massive creature, the stuff of nightmares emerged into sight. An aquatic creature, but nothing Arno knew as natural to the isles. A predator, Arno thought, teeth presumably sharp enough to rend armor, tentacles with suckers to grip its prey. Arno grimaced, it was in the way of their escape, he would need a small, fast ship to get by that creature. Anything larger would stand no chance.
"WHAT!? T-That thing...that's not even a monster, right? That's one of those Primal Beasts!" The Erune woman shouted in surprise. A primal beast? Here? Arno thought to himself, right on the day of their prison break, this likely was no coincidence. Standing near the hangerbay entrance, the small Harvin scanned the docked airships. There were normal patrol boats, likely not fast enough to evade the Primal just outside. He needed something smaller... something...

Arno gasped, he saw it. That familiar chassis there was no mistaking it. The fuselage bracketed by the twin booms, the swept wings, the sky camouflage. The Manta's Star symbol. He felt something press against his chest and his face grow hot. He balled his fists and his face contorted into a snarl. The Akula. They had taken her apart. Defiled her. He saw the wing panels opened, the internal cannon ammunition clips strewn on tables. A small crane above it had taken out the central auxiliary engine and it rested beside the Akula. Other panels were open, exposing the wiring, mechanical components and skeleton of the airship. He took a deep breath and felt the anger boil inside of him, only he and his crew were allowed to do that to the Akula, not anyone else. He took a step forward towards his airship, despite the guards and prisoners already inside of the hanger bay. His sight was on his Akula.

He didn't hear any other footsteps beside him. He glanced back, his companions frozen in place, looking back into the hall. This upset Arno even further. He felt the urge to attack something, to break something, and he stomped towards them to see what had halted them. Another Harvin.
"Soldier. Why are those two not dead? And why are they in possession of their things?" She asked them, Arno's companions in guard uniform, he assumed. She was pale, had short purple hair, and a face that Arno could admittedly look at for a long time. If it weren't for her bloody knife and the Primal just ouside. "I asked you a question." she coldly stated.
But her beauty was not the focus of Arno's attention right now. He glared at her, then at his companions posing as guards. He inhaled deeply, gritting his teeth and shaking. "I'm trying to get to my damned airship!" he shouted, at his companions mostly. "My ship is the only thing fast enough to even survive against that Primal and I'm going to gods damned fight it!" he projected at an impressive volume, he took another deep breath, "So this whole damn island doesn't end up an unmarked graveyard!" no doubt the guards and prisoners inside the hanger heard him. Arno now looked to the purple haired Harvin and pointed an accusatory finger at her, "And I'm the only damn pilot trained to fly it! That ship," Arno pointed behind him at his Akula, "I made, I'm trained to fly, so before you blow me off and say one of your lackeys can fly anything, I'm the best pilot for that ship and anyone else would just drive it into the dirt!" He inhaled once again, "Now I'm going to put my ship back together and fight that god forsaken Primal so it doesn't turn this place into a pile of rubble!" Arno shouted, at the top of his lungs, essentially. He stormed off into the hanger, towards the Akula.

@AdmrlStalfos19@Guess Who@Sunbather@GarlandDaHero

This escape was starting to be more trouble than it was worth. Even with the ether-locks off, magic was still out of the question for now. She had not been there as long as the other prisoners, but even a month with those locks on seemed to be enough to drain someone of their abilities. She stood there as she tried to make anything work, but to no avail. She had never held a sword before in her life, the only time she had even seen a sword being used was when she had guards. If she was going to fight, she needed her magic which meant she needed to get to her staff, maybe with her weapon she could focus just enough to keep her from getting killed.

Things only got worse when a message came over the intercom with orders to kill anyone trying to escape. "As if we didn't have enough on our plate" she thought to herself. How were they going to escape now with every guard taking extreme measures, more importantly, how were they going to get to their possessions? As she sat there and thought to herself she was quickly brought back to reality after she heard the Dhirom girl mention about having a plan for the warden. She agreed, the warden would be a big hindrance to their advance if he caught up with the group, not to mention if he caught them in the possessions area. The would need to do something about him and do it quickly, something they could use to deter either him or the guards.

@GarlandDaHero,@Guess Who,@AdmrlStalfos19,@Sunbather,@Hyyde322,@Kal-El

Perkeo was peeking his head around the corner, whispering: "Psst! Aren't you all coming? We're going to die if we stick around...And besides, they'll be fighting for a whi-" Perkeo said, cut off by a sudden, ear piercing scream emanating from a guard as he was dragged down the corridor Perkeo was trying to go to. Staring in horror, the minstrel turned his head back to his companions, as he said: "L-Let's NOT go that way. That sounds fun. Not going that way."

Of course, things would go from bad to worse as the Prisoner melee soon got a monstrous combatant thrown into the mix, a hissing, shrieking, horrible looking creature that was piercing through even the armored soldier's defenses, and following behind it were four more of its kind, all reaching out to attack prisoner and guard alike as they advanced. As they cut through the mass however, the group would see that the exit was now almost entirely freed, as shown by many prisoners rushing down it. Getting past those beasts might very well lead them down and away.

Many of the other prisoners were panicking, starting to try and flee, before faced with the reality that there WAS no where to go. Hopeless, they began cowering away from the monsters as they shambled forward. Given their overall appearance, one could assume that they were Water-Element beings. This was further cemented as they launched a strange fluid from their mouths on occasion to attack those fleeing, appearing to be some sort of thick mucous that slowed down those it hit. Perkeo, ever the brave and stalwart man, was hiding behind the corner, shakily holding a sword in his hand. "What ARE these things!?" he questioned, literally shaking in his boots. "I-If we can get down to the Eighth Floor, that's where they put the possessions of prisoners in Solitary Confinement." he said, as the creatures began shambling right for the group.

---

@Suku,@Enkryption

For Marshall, there was little standing in the way of him marching out there through a hole in the wall from the tentacle...save for the tentacle itself barring the way. A barrier of flesh, mucous, and liquid that writhed and lashed out violently in the hallway, claw marks made along it leading to the east. It seemed that someone had just passed by, and managed to get by with a series of aggressive slashing attacks to the underside of the wriggling mass. The wounds it suffered had lead it to retreat, leaving a rather sizable chunk in the wall it had come through, leaving a gaping hole leading to the outside. While climbing down might be possible, the windows were too narrow to enter in from, and the slickness of the rain would make climbing down impossible.

Before he could make a decision however, Marshall would spot a creature waddling along the floor, before charging at him as soon as it spotted him, hissing furiously as venomous stingers extended from its many four tentacles, aiming to kill the immortal and consume his meat, its mouth spread wide open, so enraged with hunger that it sought to devour him before it had even made the kill.

---

Skathi's flight would attract the ire of the Primal Beast, its massive tentacles attempting to cut her off at several points down the hall. Her speed and unarmed slashing attacks were sufficient in deflecting their grasping attempts to seize her, but soon it seemed to ease up its assault. Despite being a formidable Primal Beast, it seemed that Charybdis' intelligence wasn't very high. It was only able to track Skathi when it felt pain in its tentacles, or when it actually forced its head to look directly into the holes it was punching in the walls. A distorted roar echoed outside the tower, as Charybdis' frustration grew with every failed attempt to attack Skathi. Then, the unthinkable happened.

Charybdis, with a tentacle within the walls of the prison, severed its own tentacle with another, letting the writhing mass squirm as the beast's oozy black blood dripped into the ocean, before the wound sealed completely. The now-severed tentacle also sealed up its own wound, before reflexively curling up and calcifying. As Skathi was running, she could hear the distinct sound of stone cracking, the tentacle's flesh rupturing and releasing roughly a dozen small mite-like creatures that bore little resemblance to their broodmother. Four tentacles splayed out from their small, 2ft high forms, each having a wingspan of about 8ft with both arms outstretched. Pouring from the mass from which they were made, they struggled over one another, skin gaining color and turning a pale blue as their eyes burned red, unused to the light present above the sea. Transfixed on Skathi, many of them made a break for her, while others spanned out in search of food, attacking guards and prisoners as they both ascended, and descended the tower.


@Shizuochan,@Skyrte

There was a pause as Selmia, one of the 13 herself, was caught completely off guard by Arno's sudden outburst, her eyes fluttering as she rapidly blinked in confusion, trying to think about just what that harvin man was talking about...

"...Ohhh. I see. My apologies, then." Selmia said, sheathing her knife, and wiping a smidgen of blood off of her gloves hands. "I had forgotten that the creator of that aircraft was a high priority escort. Excellent work, you two." Selmia said, offering an almost out of place smile on her youthful face. "To have brought Zweite's future chief of engineering here without even needing to be told...Hehe. That's against the rules...but your actions were correct. Carry on." she said, walking off as quickly as she had when approaching them, as if in a hurry. ...Was...was she really that gullible?

"Y-Yes Ma'am, we'll do just that Ma'am!" the Erune woman said, hurriedly "escorting" Arno to the Akula, walking a bit awkwardly in her armor as she guided Gilvan there as well. At that outburst and acceptance, the other soldiers believed that they were, indeed, there as normal guards to escort Arno to reconstruct his airship to take on the Primal that, to their knowledge, was attacking unprovoked. Clearing her throat, the woman said: "Let us know if you need us to grab anything..." as she marveled at Arno doing his thing. She clearly had no idea what he was doing, but...eh, not her trade, after all.

"Didn't the Warden say to not let anyone fly?" One of the nearby guards said, a hand on his sheath before he got clocked in the face by a nearby fellow guard. "ARE YOU STUPID? YOU WANNA DEAL WITH A RIOT, AND A PRIMAL BEAST AT THE SAME TIME? Let the damn fool fly. He'll at least distract it, at worst. At best, little guy might just poke it to death." he said, clearly not wanting to bet his survival on a Harvin. The fighting raged on, still, but a defensive line had formed around Arno. Selmia's acceptance was enough for them to know that severe punishment awaited if they failed. As such, Arno had their support...so long as the bluff was kept up.

---

Meanwhile, Selmia smiled warmly, free from prying eyes, she skipped along the halls with a small jar in her hands, rubbing the top of it. The inside was filled to the brim with Formaldehyde, and inside pulsed a slow, but steadily beating heart. Marshall's, to be precise. "He'll be so much fun when he breaks..." she said, having a childlike glee to her smile as she skipped along, leaving bloodied footsteps in her wake as she went off to a deeper part of the prison, towards the personal airship dock the 13 Heads used for secret visits.

Marshall sighed. His patience was wearing thin; not from the scientists that were dead and drained of blood, nor the suddenness of the tentacle that lashed at his very presence -- not even from the creature that thought itself greater than a rat before a lion. No, these were all pesky thoughts; buzzing around his head like flies around a corpse -- minor frustrations with simple solutions, and nothing more. Death was an unavoidable thing; if he hadn't killed the scientists, they would have died anyways. If he didn't step into lashing range, the blind flailing of the tentacle was little more than a stage hazard.

And, as for the little creature...

Inhaling, Marshall set himself firmly on his right leg, pivoting himself on his hip, and tensing his right arm; swelling the blood in The Touch of Virtue for an explosive burst. Firmly set, he exhaled, “...six... seven... eight...” before swinging himself forward, and driving his fist into the creature's maw. Perhaps, innumerable rows of teeth, jagged and shredding, ground against singular sleeve of indomitable armor; a creature used to consumption before conception found its savage greed awarded with drying blood, as it drooled upon an impregnable defense.

“...ten,” Marshall finished, opening his fist, releasing the blood stored like a cannon blast with the compression of a shotgun burst. Impossibly unguarded, the creature found itself bereft of a greater portion of its skull, and, with its most fleeing thoughts, it could understand one thing: its greed was never to be greater than that of its target. Marshall's fingers sank into the beast, and started to pull out its blood with reckless abandon; he needed all he could get to blast down the tentacle.

“A Savage can only challenge a Savant,” Marshall says, casting the husk aside. After a moment, he frowned, “Damn it all. I'm getting old,” he rubbed his temples, “Spouting off one-liners after a fight. I swear, if I call someone, “Bub,” I'll shoot myself.” Looking up, he observed the tentacle again, and took better notice of the wounds that it bore. “Slash marks. Unique. Uniform. These aren't made by manufactured weapons, but claws. The Erune,” he concludes, “I guess, kitty got claws, after all. I'll just follow her lead, then.”

Marshall watched the range of the tentacle, and then stepped back a few odd steps, before he jumped forward, and ripped his fingers into the deepest wound; blood sprayed from the brutal rend, and he drank it up.

Greedily.

Hungrily.

Unendingly.

Marshall grinned, sickly, powerfully, as The Touch of Virtue burned at his skin, as if, attempting to nudge him off the metaphorical edge; trying to be the blessedly light object it was, despite its darkened visage. “Not going to work,” he says, as the glove was gushing blood in excess; it would only hold so much before reaching capacity. “I need more pieces. I need more hearts. I need my heart,” remembered the thief, before he released the shriveled tentacle. Surely, a Primal Beast had plenty of blood; still, he'd taken a lion's share, judging from the pool that flowed behind him. “I need to focus on my heart...”

Sighing, he focused on his heartbeat, and found it so far away, so far down. “I guess, I am going down, then,” he says, walking to the hole in the wall. “Expressly.”

Not a moment of hesitation crossed him, as he stepped off the edge, and plummeted for the ground.