[center][h3]Among Peculiar Beings, a Stranger in an even stranger Land...[/h3][/center]

	Jericho noted the drowned corpse having figured out that the torches in the wall sconces lit themselves upon being held, and while he kept his expression neutral, his gut was not fond of being so casually surrounded by Magician tricks. Of course, he had to conceded that these may very well not be the tricks of Magicians of his home, as he was presented with too many varied, disparate beings and people to even remotely stand a chance of still being locked up in some prison in Istvargrad. Hell, any ring leader worth his name knew the prisons of Istvargrad, usually through personal experience in breaking themselves out or being broken out by their associates. This....this was not a prison of Istvargrad, the magic alone showed that, which meant he was not in Istvargrad anymore. Which begged the question, where in the eleven hells did he end up this time? Disrupting his train of thought was the curse, brief remark by another person to walk out of there cell, and despite the grime and less than sterling state of his equipment, there was a steel and focus to his stance and movements. This man was more than he seemed at first glance, and while Jericho couldn't place a finger on it yet, he would keep an eye out.

	Of course, any jailbreak that spent this long just lingering ran into a guard doing its rounds. He mentioned it, since the amalgamation of flesh, armor, and weaponry that lumbered into their lives was, well, he'd only seen things like it when Kazzok invaded his home. Looked like it was repurposed from line breaking abominations, four 'legged' things flailing about with two handed weapons, using mass and sheer violence to shatter through organized defensive formations. Least that is what the damn thing reminded him of, but its charge was brought short by their rescuer's....spell? Whatever field the thing was maintaining, had frozen part of the abomination in place, and then it proved itself capable of speech, gurgling on about finding and barking for its master. A quick glance at the state of the group pretty much said for itself their odds if this thing's master heard and came running. Of course, hearing his own voice flawlessly spoken back to him, asking for help with the abomination, was disconcerting, but he would have time for nervous break downs or freaking out later.

	The one winged woman introduced herself, armed herself with a torch, but other then that, stood around rather uselessly while composing herself or whatever. Great, that helps, Jericho considered while grabbing one of the self lighting torches for himself. Then the drowned lass promptly charged the thing and, after jamming a torch into the base of where those arms came from, did her damndest to pick the thing up and slam it down behind her. Figured the dead wouldn't be restricted in strength, and he barked out plain enough orders to the rest that were still sort of just milling about, especially the one looking to flee. [color=598527]"Ain' no runnin' with that thing on our 'eels. Watch th' weapons an' arms, surround it, an' stick it with fire wherever ye' can, openings, gaps, anywhere. Disarm it if th' chance arises!"[/color] Jericho lunged forward, a practiced fener's thrust, just with a torch instead of a sword, aiming for that hole where the thing had drawn weapons from. Kept him clear of flailing arms, best it could at any rate, but still he had to stay light on his feet depending on how the thing responded.