<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/01/bc/78/01bc780ff20cfed50fdeab31fd0c2aba.jpg)</div><br/><em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Kinessa Uskwood</span></span></em><br/>Female Dhampir Rogue/Bard 1 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=291897.msg14330769#msg14330769)<br/>HP: 7 | AC: 14 | Init: +4 | Status: Normal<br/>Location: Northern Women's Cell<br/>Tagging: Mr. Langley<strong>GM NPC</strong>| Open<br/><hr/><br/><em>Flavor text; Imprisoned for 1 year; Approaching the bars and speaking to young guard; GM can ignore all but dialogue.</em><br/><br/>Kinessa had claimed a corner of the cell for herself, having to fight off only a couple of the other female prisoners in order to prevent anyone taking it from her or invading her space.  The last fight had left her with a clump of greasy, coarse, black hair that she'd torn viciously from the scalp of a skinny bitch who thought she was tough shit.  She'd braided the handful of hair and tied it around her wrist, using it as a reminder to any of the others not to get ideas.<br/><br/>Still, even she couldn't keep their increasing numbers from forcing them closer and closer, and her little corner grew increasingly smaller as bodies claimed floor space for sleeping and...other things.  The smells didn't bother her, nor did the filth.  In fact, she regularly rubbed all manner of dreck on her skin and hair, a tactic to make herself less appealing to the guards and Warden; not to mention the other women.  How<em>anyone</em>could think about sex in such conditions was beyond her, but she suspected most of them just liked being mean and she looked like easy prey.<br/><br/>When the horns sounded, she was tucked in the corner with her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes half-closed as she let herself fall into a semi-catatonic state.  The self-hypnosis made things bearable, took her away from the gnawing pain in her gut, the ceaseless noise and the oppressive presence of other bodies.  Still, even in that state she remained alert, ready to spring out of it at the first hint of someone getting too close or the sound of the guards opening the doors.<br/><br/>This time, it was the horns that drew her up from within herself, where she floated through memories of nights spent slipping through windows and smelling the perfumed, white skin of the sleeping forms within.  The tip of her tongue found her freshly regrown incisors, relishing their presence while it lasted, as they tended to be pulled not long after regrowth.  Anytime one of the guards decided it was time to try sticking his organ in her mouth again.<br/><br/>Blinking slowly, she slid up the wall to her feet, leaning against it for support as she did so and taking her time.  Rising too quickly tended to make her dizzy, as she only ate the bare minimum of what the prison provided, just enough to keep her alive.  She could feel her ribs beneath the scrap of cloth that served as her clothing, and her once-well-muscled stomach was concave.  Licking her cracked lips, she pushed off the wall and wove her way through the other prisoners toward the bars, murmuring in her husky, rasping voice.<br/><br/>"What's happening?  What are those horns?"