[center][IMG]https://i.imgur.com/Uww0OJB.gif[/IMG][/center]

[center][@A Lowly Wretch][@Veradana][@DocRock][@Letter Bee][@Eisenhorn][@PaulHaynek][@Chiro][/center]

The woman with the mask tapped back.

The small one, no claim but he did notice.

The human err dragon.  He knew whisper on the wind.  Hes in.  

The woman of air.  Tinged back.  She's in.

The chatty one, not exactly subtle but he spoke to the dragon.  Pox wanted to whisper back, but he needed to be discreet.  Annoy them when the guards got closer so they would focus on him.  Dont piss of the guards.  He could take it.  He hoped no one else got.

[i][b]"The guaarrds arre beeing laazyy toodaayy!" [/b][/i]

Pox nearly gagged and sputtered as the Luminal, the Death Knight, the Anathema beside him didn't get the hint.  He coughed at the sudden outburst of her merriment and glee.  And she would not.  Shut.  Up.  Good.

[i][b]"Hooww woouuld yooouuu descriibe yoouurr ***SNAP*** wiinngs? Fllooffyy? Feeaatherryy? Flloooferry? Feeaatheerlooffy?"[/b][/i]

Pox used her words to cover his movements.  The ceramic bowl, he used his metal spoon to crack a piece of the bowl, snapping it off, a little shard.

Then things got a little less manageable.  Discretion is not the forte of his allies.  Its fine, he'd adapt.

[hr]

Three others took the opportunity, grabbing at the stragglers of guards.  The commotion allowed Pox to stand up, his shackles and shape did not take precedence over the three that had the gall and guts to take the fight, each in turn using magics, gifts, things that Pox wanted to research in time.  But it was a start.  Three down. It was true, they were all warriors, all here for a reason, cause they all fought.  And could fight again.

Six more entered the room.  They would split up!  Pox couldn't let that happen!  One could die, get over run... and it was time to act.  The robed masked man jumped onto the table, his robs and feet knocking off bowls of gruel as he ran at the approaching guards, he managed to clear much more distance than his ratty lean frame would suggest, clearing over the head of Selphia as he landed on the stone floor.  

Pox felt it, the essence boiling and bubbling over in his lungs.  There was essence here, he could breath it, feel it, even in this strange place.  He had forgotten the powers of before, mind so muddled with his 'death' and failure, but he could remember this.  Appearing before the crowd like a raiton, beak of the crow pointing at them he threw his head back and yelled... the exhale coalesced as a steaming geyser of venomous green gas, spraying at them as if pipe burst.  The choking, noxious fumes hurt the eyes, hurt the lungs more.  He was hoping to break their charge, get them to panic, disperse. The cloud threatening to cover the portal to the room, keep others out.  Thankfully the mess hall was big enough that he couldnt fill the room.

He hoped it was enough, it was for the guard in front.  Gasping and sputtering, his defenses lowered, Pox ran forward and attempted to take the ceramic shard and slice at the guard's throat.  The only weapon Pox had, but his aim towards the jugular was, disturbingly accurate.

Still, he only realized all too late that it was just the armor and not flesh underneath.  Still sharp cuts between plates, maybe it would do something.