The Scorpion Oracle whispers, 'come on, turn the page.'

[wastlandrage]

The light filtering into the cells dims to an orange glow, and the scent of smoke and burning meat starts to carry through the air. The doors to every cell simultaneously grind open, and the guards - those not part of the walls of the dungeons - wait to lead the prisoners down the hall and up a set of stairs worn practically ramp-smooth

Comments

i take it this is the intro post?

[ruggdlyhndsome]

[WARNING, SPOILERS IN HIS INTRO]Richard Castle had seen plenty of police funerals on TV and portrayed in fiction before but he never thought he would attend one, let alone be a pallbearer. That job was for fellow cops, for family. But as he laid down the casket of his friend, Captain Roy Montgomery of the NYPD 12th precinct, it suddenly all became real for him. This wasn't fiction anymore

[invisibill]

Danny glares at the guards, the woman, and the fairies standing round. Then for good measure he gives another glare at the woman.

"Nice villainous monologue. Or you know, it would be if any of that actually made sense."

[notalighieri]

"Yeah they really go all out for the whole eerie fantasy villain dungeon theme around here, don't they. No one ever tell 'em this shit got lame an' predictable forever ago?" Dante comments off-handed to Bill and folds his arms across his chest and continues to look around.

[invisibill]

"No argument here." Danny twists slightly to give Dante a grin. "I mean, I never have high hopes from this type of thing, but is a little originality too much to ask for? This looks like something out of a B-grade movie."

[notalighieri]

"Don't watch much movies." Dante offers a half-truth in response and turns to his side, looking at the kid.

He tilts his head slightly forward as he regards Danny curiously; one white eyebrow raised. The outfit aside, this guy didn't feel entirely normal... Dante's supernatural sense was pinged but it was no clear reading. Of course, that in itself was nothing unusual in this place. He is still learning the energies and presences of this place, but at closer inspection this is something new.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Mr subtle as always, Dante gives Danny a look that's clearly curious but actually neither threatening nor worried.

[gallantgoggles]

Takato doesn't pay much attention to the events in the room. He's too busy craning his neck to try and get a good look at Guilmon. Was he okay? They were separated by several of the other prisoners, and he wasn't tall enough to see more than a glimpse of red scales.

Several feet away, Guilmon was attmepting to do the same thing. He could smell Takato, but he couldn't see him through the crowd of prisoners. The digimon shakes his head, and tries to break away from the guagrd nd make his way to his partner.

[wastlandrage]

The Oracle holds up a hand to stop the guards from intervening as Guilmon breaks free, watching the two of them with interest. She stays where she is for the time being, her hands clasped behind her back.

[gallantgoggles]

Guilmon darts through the crowd, singlemindedly following a trail only he could smell. Then with a happy laugh he leaps on his partner and knocks him onto the ground.

"I found you Takatomon!"

For his part, Takato flails briefly as he collapses under Guilmon's weight. But he quickly recovers and tightly hugs his partner with relief.

[wastlandrage]

She steps off the dais then, crouching a few feet away with her arms braced on her knees. "How do you talk?"

She looks at Takato. "Did you teach him?"

[notalighieri]

Dante looks around the new place with a frown and rubs his head absently. Being smacked repeatedly by the guards for attempting idle conversation didn't hurt anything beside his style, but it was damn annoying. These people needed to lighten up. Seriously.

The smells and the look of the place was ominous at best but a dungeon was no strange place for this one half-devil. In fact, this circus was getting old--and fast.

"Great, thanks. Now how 'bout less theatrics an' more explaining!"

[bestunrevealed]

This was all disturbingly familiar -- except this time he was on the wrong side of the Death Eater-like ritual. He half-expected something with a giant snake to happen next, after the woman did her passable Voldemort without a lisp impression.

His fingers twitched, and he ached for his wand. He was otherwise still, expression as placid as a winter pond.