Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-28358106-20180701031338

Tirush doesn't waste time. Tucking her wings in fully, she falls forward into a dive, straight down the shaft. How far she goes, she can't tell; the shaft doesn't give her a sense of height, but she knows it goes far. Very far. She falls and falls, using her tail to steer her with subtle movements, pitching from one side to the other as she dodges the dangling chains and cages to the best of her ability.

But it can only help for so long, and she has a close enough brush with a rotted cage that she steers herself to the edge of the shaft. Somersaulting once, she rights herself, digging her claws and talons into the stone to slow her plummet, sparks and embers flying. She slows to a near stop, then drops easily to a jutting stone ledge.

Catlike she leaps, from ledge to ledge, her tail flowing, her jumps taking her the rest of the way down, until her keen eyes spot the bottom of the fetid pit. She halts on a ledge about fifty feet from the bottom, and looks around.

Everything is damp; nothing here would burn. She would have to melt the stone here, or use her liquid fire, the fire that clings to everything and burns like dripping flame. Better than nothing, she reasons. She takes a deep breath.

With a roar, she breathes a slow swathe of fire around the shaft, ringing the wall with a bright crimson fire. It illuminates the area both above and below; something would have to brave its burning tongues to come down now, or do the same to climb up. All who passed through it would burn, except her. She looks down now; the floor of the prison glistens with a putrid gloss, but she can see all of it, now. There would be no hiding in the dark.

Like a fiery mote from heaven, she drops through the ring of flame, trailing embers and floating ash, and hits the ground at a thundering kneel that echoes through the prison. She stands, illuminated by the glow from above, her eyes bright with a hidden fire as she looks about her. Her voice echoes, clear and deep and rolling, her fists flexing as she hunches like a coiled spring.

"Come and face me, filth. You will die now, or you will die tired and cold, when I have hunted you.  It will not matter..."