conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: horus42: The Wargaz jailer leads the way through the dimly lit brick hallway, towards the Prisoner's cell.  The four of you, Smalls included, are finally about to see the man that has caused such an uproar in the Confederation lately.  No one knows anything about him, who he is, where he came from, what race he is.  Anything.
  
  The jailer speaks in a harsh tone.  "The four of you are being brought in now, so you're not too shocked when you finally get a look at him.  Otherwise, only the Commissar and the Inquisitor would be here."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: bluntpencil: "Right you are. Is he famous, or something?" 
  
  Commissar Makhno simply assumes that the prisoner is a politician or other person of standing. He doesn't immediately jump to 'monster' or such.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: horus42: "Not quite."  He reaches the end of the hall, and turning the key, opens the door, allowing you to see the Prisoner for the first time.
  
  His hair is short, spiky, and pure white, though his face is youthful.  His eyes are all black, but what's most striking about him is his skin.  Though he looks to be an Imperial, his skin is a dull shade of grey.  He also bears a tattoo on his forehead, a black ring, with the top half filled in.  The Prisoner is chained to a chair, and wears a Curpum discipline collar around his neck.  With the touch of a button, that collar would send an electric surge through his body.
  
  He looks up as you all enter, grinning.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: 18th Avenger: " Cheery sort, in't he? "
  
  The speaker is a wiry individual with the classic confident slouch and cheery disposition of a Scavenger "freelancer". This was Geordie Donovan and he was looking rather ill in the wan light. His hands were slipped into the pockets of his flight suit as he appeared to fidget in the dim corridor. As of the moment, he was looking rather uncomfortable and out of his element. The pilot, as he could be nothing else, nudged the copper-furred Wargaz who had the incongruous name "Smalls" sewn onto his breast pocket.
  
  " I'm starting to think Brick-Top has it in for us, Smallie, " Geordie murmured, referring to the contact-slash-middleman who facilitated the meeting with the commissar and inquisitor.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: horus42: Smalls looks at Geordie as they walk down the hall.  "He might, who knows?  I mean, he's not always been the best contact in the past, right?"
  
  As the jailer shows you all in, Smalls stops dead in his tracks.  "What is that... thing?"
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: bluntpencil: "A prisoner for the Bastille,"  says the political officer calmly,  "He's obviously a dangerous criminal." 
  
  James knows no reason why the man would look so strange, but frankly, he doesn't care. The man was most likely an enemy of the state that had killed people, so he didn't need the fine details.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: horus42: The Prisoner huffs, his grin fading.   "I don't appreciate being called a "thing", thank you very much.  And you're partially right."  He says, looking to James.   "I'm dangerous, but I'm no criminal." 
  
  The jailer seems surprised.  "I think that's the most he's said since we caught him."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: bluntpencil: "He's a prisoner and therefore a criminal or a threat to the People."  James said 'People' with a capital letter somehow.
  
  He didn't care in the slightest what the prisoner's pleas or arguments to the contrary would be. Criminals and such always did that. He'd been obviously found guilty, or proven exceptionally dangerous if he was going to the Bastille.
  
  When James spoke, he never addressed the freak directly. He didn't need to talk to a damn terrorist or whatever the hell he was.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: 18th Avenger: " You've no idea how many times I hear that boast. "
  
  Though his tone was just shy of teasing, Geordie's face still maintained that skeptical cast. The Prisoner, he took note of the obvious capitalization, didn't look all that dangerous, but in his time serving the military, the old adage  looks can be deceiving  just about wore itself out.
  
  " How dangerous is he? See, I'm the sort who'd rather not have some crazy hatchetman ready to break out while I'm at the 'stick. Be a bit hard to fly while I'm being strangled with my own innards or if  Clara 's burning around us. "
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: bluntpencil: "Assuming he's  very  dangerous is the wisest course of action,"  states Commissar Makhno levelly.
  
   "The rest of us will be on guard duty for the entire time. Speaking, and listening, to him will be prohibited for security reasons." 
  
  Makhno never plays around when it comes to prisoners. He isn't the type to go about torturing folk, but neither is he going to give the guy an easy ride. That would be foolish.