[hider=Character Summary]

[b]Location:[/b]Eblistan Citadel Dungeon
[b]Health:[/b]Hungry, dehydrated
[b]Inventory:[/b] Breeches and boots
[/hider]

Kyrtaar fell screaming into the void. The night sky wasn't so beautiful when you knew the malignant celestial beings that lived deep in the abyss. Kyrtaar's naked body fell into a black hole and was compressed and ripped to shreds. Somewhere there was a laugh. He came out on the other end fine, and was pulled into a bright white sun. He felt the skin melt off his body, pain and consciousness lasting much longer than they should. He could feel his bones turn to ash as he made a decaying orbit of the star. He could see the stars flock together, a flock of carrion birds descending on his corpse, ready to tear the soul from his body.

Kyrtaar burst awake, kicking. He had been rolling and kicking the entire time, a common occurrence. He rolled up to a sitting position without the use of his arms. They were bound together by rope at the wrists, and open palms flat against his chest. Another rope was bound around the top of his chest, locking them there, and one around his waist. Another rope length ran from around his neck down his back, keeping the other ones in place. The guards had seen what he could do.

[I]"Elf. Come with us." Kyrtaar looked at them. "For?" He had asked. "Theft from the King's Market" Kyrtaar had scoffed, he didn't do it. "Why?" He asked. "I stole none of your paltry goods." The guard smiled. "You think we care?" Kyrtaar had wiped the grin from his face with an eldritch blast. The other 4 guards however, were enough to restrain him[/i]

Kyrtaar slowly stood up, trying to stretch his stiff body. His arms, back, and chest were an awful motley collection of purple and white. Bruises from being beaten as he was taken into custody. His eyes were black, but somehow, his jaw and nose weren't broken. Must be thankful for little blessings, he reminded himself. Kyrtaar watched the dead man prove everyone wrong by being well, not dead. He watched him stumble over and wait against the bars for the guards. Kyrtaar rolled his eyes, and looked at the rouge, who made her way to the gate, and after some fondling the lock, decided to pick it. Finally, someone with some sense, and a thirst to not die here.

Kyrtaar addressed the group for the first time. Release me from these ropes, and I will help us escape." Whatever misgivings they had of him, from his nightmares and the obvious attempt to restrain his hands, once he was free, he rubbed his wrists and stretched his arms, finally able to do it. He cracked his neck, and Kyrtaar's eyes began to glow a fierce, bright green. Looking at them would cause them to see two glowing orbs for a few seconds after, as if they had looked into two miniature suns. He felt strength return to his body. His prodigious will gave him power, but later he would pay for it. He had been underground for days. He needed to see the sky to "recharge".

Kyrtaar walked to the gate, and flung it open, looking for the first Guard. Green vapor was rising from his hands. He looked down the hall way to freedom, and saw the first guard. The man's hand was on his sheathed sword. "Hey! You! Return to yo-" He never finished the sentence. A green ball of energy the size of a basketball destroyed his chest, killing him outright. Kyrtaar turned and looked into the cell for a second, before striding down the hallway. They would either stay and die, or follow him to freedom, and he cared not which. Though if they stay, he would surely be outnumbered and killed. 

Kyrtaar looked down at the book attached to his belt. It was made of simple brown leather, and bound shut with chains. It had reappeared every single night after the guards had taken it from him, the morning prior. He was sure the other prisoners noticed the supernatural book, always returning. None had asked about it, directly. "Not today." Kyrtaar whispered to himself, and the book. "You aren't taking my soul today." He would not go gentle into that good night.