[center][color=9e0b0f][h2]Lashiel Voss[/h2][/color][/center]

	Lash couldn't help but silently glare at the...thing singing about the lazy guards and swaying back and forth. One, the undead did not exist, not even to the degree as a story or horror tale, so that was certainly something worth noting. Two, her behavior indicated both a childlike mentality, and lack of situational awareness. Given her size, however, brute force could make for a good tool to distract from other activities. Of course, any further planning was disrupted by the sudden revolt by a handful of men of varying sizes, armed with weapons forged from spoons it looked like. She grinned under her mask, that was taking prison shanks to a whole new level, prison swords? They'd clearly been here longer, but as the fighting started and the masked fellow who had been signalling jumped onto the table, Lash grabbed the chain shackling her hands together with her left hand, metal gauntlet cinching tight around the links. This was gonna hurt, but hell, when didn't it?

	As the toxic gas spewing bird masked thing went about its business, the sound of hissing machinery emitted from the gauntlet on her left arm, and a clenched jaw was apparent beneath the face mask. Whatever the device was doing, it was painful, but then a blue white flame started hissing from the gauntlet, heating the links of the chains to the point that a swift, hard pull was able to split them, the half slagged metal dripping. Quickly doing the same to her ankle shackles, now that the device was restarted, having not let any hints that the thing was anything other than grafted metal, she poked her head up to survey the situation. A normal human should have been light headed from blood loss at this point, but she was used to the cycle of blood usage, and a few days in a cell wasn't going to break that habit so quickly. The cloud was not going to stop all the guards, even if it seemed to have left one open to the mask wearing gas spewer's attack up close. Accurate, but she could deal with that later, she chose to keep low and stay out of sight as she closed in on the nearest guard to her that wasn't consumed in fumes, grabbing a bowl as she crouch ran towards the nearest guard free of the fumes.

	Metal armor, looked metal enough at any rate, good enough for any sort of improvised weapon that wasn't well aimed. Hell, proper weapons would probably have trouble with it. A thought shifted the mechanisms in the gauntlet, and she went to grab the nearest guard's arm before discharging the capacitors in her fingers. It would be more than enough lethal current, and she was insulated against it as a precaution after nearly dying from some smart sod trying to grab her while getting shocked. As that discharged, she shattered the bowl and grabbed a handful of sharp, broken bits, lacerating her hand before she lobbed the bloody porcelain shards at the guards still in the cloud of toxic fumes. Gas like that, least back in Istvargrad, was all sorts of flammable, no one took torches down to the sewers for a reason, and as the shards left her hand, they combusted, though those flames were an orange/red in coloration. Her hand also burst into flames briefly, the lacerations being seared shut by the burning blood on the surface, though curiously her glove was not even remotely singed by the action.