Introductions

Nothing fuels vengeance quite like restraint. Harrison mulls this to himself as he sits alone in his cell. "Those weak fools have no idea how to run a country," he bellows to no one and everyone. "If they respected the will, and might, of the people, I would make this nation truly great." And on great he slams his fist down on the bench supporting him to punctuate the idea. Looking around the room, he sees that he has a captive audience as evidenced by the occupation of the cells around him, as well as by the rats scurrying about the floor.

"As my name is Harrison Blighter, I will exact my revenge, and when all is said and done, I will rule Talingarde," and Harrison stands up announcing his intentions to the guards if they can hear him. He paces a bit and sits back down, attempting to devise a plan to extricate himself from his apparent fate on death-row for sedition. Quietly fuming, the wheels turn and he plots, looking at the others around him gauging whether or not they might have the strength of will be of any use to him.

I wouldn't call myself a criminal. That's obscene. Someone of my intellect surely shouldn't be placed in the same category as a petty thief, or a brutal murderer? No, my ways are much more subtle than that. While studying the arcane arts, I've learned is there is so much free- flowing information in the mind just waiting to be tapped, harvested if you will. I can sniff it out like a particularly pungent aroma. Use it against my enemies. I have none, of course. Well, maybe just the one. The one who caught me and placed me in this wretched cell.

Speaking of subtle...

I roll my eyes. "Do tell, Harrison Blighter. What will be your first course of action should you be handed the crown, hmm?" This should be interesting.

An elf stands up and moves to the bars of her cage. Stunningly beautiful in spite of the dirt on her face and her ragged prison clothes. "Unless you have a plan to get us out of here, your blather is worthless," she says, rolling her eyes at his grand proclamations. After a moment of silence, she speaks back up, "Name is Alyndra, by the way. Figure you might as well know my name if we're going to die anyway, though if we do get out of here, I will rule Talingarde. I will make our so-called rulers suffer for their incompetence."

She turns away from the bars and begins pacing her cell, movements light and graceful like a dancer. She begins humming a tune, obviously lost deep in thought. She raises a hand to her face and smiles as electricity sparks in her grip, then she clenches her fist, Oh yes... they will pay

My tousled hair is constantly covering my eyes and I'm perpetually in a thinker's pose. I neither look up nor move from my spot in the back of the cell.

"The name's Xharin. I'd much prefer death as I'm headed to hard labor in the Salt Mines and I have no current plans to take the throne for myself. So much anger in both of you. What would Mitra think?" My voice is a bored monotone, with a hint of amusement.