The Second.... Thingy

[quu]

Welcome, outlanders, to the throne room of (presently unconscious) King Alxis of Glazingstoke. The lilac-colored eyes of the sorcerous Prince Joffrey fix with unnerving penetration upon the party of outlanders as he clasps his beloved father to his breast. Limned he is by the last of his flames; their low ebb purples the face of the slumbering king. The echoes of deep magic swirl in the room and color the sunlight that streams through the windows.

"Explain yourselves." He commands. It is the tone of someone who is used to being obeyed immediately.

Behind him, about him, a few guards are coming around from their poisonous nap. Groggy blinking; clumsy, sleep-swollen hands fumbling to check upturned helmets, or grasp weapons, or smooth ruffled feathers. A muffled "wut happnd" slurs from someone's numb lips. Two piles of black ash smoulder silently upon the dais.

(Free-for-all response)

Comments

[quu]

/DICE ROLL

Sorry Zell, but there are too many guards and not enough overdrive.

Zell is cuffed and dragged angrily off to the palace jail, a chilly, albeit relatively clean, stone cell with thick iron bars that have been magically enchanted to punish anyone who attempts to break them.

[tigerbomb]

Hah, jail. Scouting out the cell, he looked for an escape for later.

[quu]

Your highly aggressive ass can expect to be chilling here for a while, son. Better hope someone remembers you. B|

The dungeon is vermin-free and meals are served three times a day. Zell's cell is 10'x10' with no windows and rough stone walls.

[tigerbomb]

Pawing at the ground next to him, he thought about his life decisions.