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Sorry I haven't posted in so long, and also that this post is so long. I promise all my spells won't take up this much headroom.


Kinedu

While the madness had unfolded, Kinedu had done his best to stand back, away from the others and the mess, clutching the glass sword as if it were a newborn babe.

When everything settles, Kinedu looks warily at each of his cellmates. Slowly, not taking his eyes off them, he sets the glass sword in his hand on the cold stone floor. "It's very very important," he says, That nobody handle this sword roughly. It's fragile. It is even more important," and here he looks askance at the gnoll, "That nobody, under any circumstances, tries to use this sword." He steps over to the stunned and decorated Rho. In a nervous gesture, he tugs at the skin on the back of his left hand.

He frowns, the thin gray skin of his face pulling taut. A few muttered syllables escape his lips, though it sounds more like he is choking. The pulling becomes more insistent; he spreads his hand out, loosening its flesh. The light begins to reflect oddly on Kinedu's face, as if it were being polished by some unseen force. The muttering turns into groans of pain. With a final exclamation, he pulls with all his strength. There is an audible pop as the hand dislocates, and the flesh shears away, revealing blackened bone beneath.

Kinedu groans, mouth lolling open, revealing that his large, square white teeth conceal rows of tiny yellow barbs. He holds the flesh that once belonged to his left hand in his right, rolling it against his thigh. It starts to form a ball, like clay or putty. Suddenly he slaps the flesh-clay against his forehead.

It bursts like a stuck balloon, but seemingly out of nowhere torrents of liquid gray sludge slide down around Kinedu's body... but not around Kinedu's body. It falls around an invisible cast, one that is broader of shoulder, slightly taller than Kinedu. The sludge begins to solidify into interlocking plates of chitinous metal, like a suit of fine plate mail. A face appears, stern, flat, and inexpressive. There is a ripple, and all around the metal-flesh hardens, shines, catching the light and reflecting it. Jagged Draconic script oozes out of shoulder joints, burying itself into the plate's epaulets. Kinedu brings his hand down from his forehead, but not before dragging it along his forehead in a swirl, leaving a mark that hardens like a brand: ϱ

Rho, intact, unblemished, stands where Kinedu had a moment previous.

"That... was harder than I remember," Kinedu says, in a passable imitation of Rho's voice. "It's not solid, but hopefully it holds up." He pauses a moment to gather his thoughts before walking towards the cell door and stepping confidently into the corridor.