Roleplay

[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/54949367][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/549494/54949367_350.png[/img][/url] Fingers tapped on the stone floor as bored eyes stared at the grey wall. He could hear the pacing of dragons in the cells within his room, talons scrapping on the floor. 5 dragons besides himself jailed and imprisoned due to a strange string of murders that had happened in the nearby town, all of them apparently suspects. He hadnt even been aware of the killings himself, what with his dwelling being half an hour away from town and the fact he considered himself a hermit. He had been in his own bed two nights ago sleeping soundly only for the local authorities to break into his house and arresting him, spewing profanities and accusations about murder. It was when they were dragging him out that he saw what looked like a dragon being unburied from the garden in his backyard. Rustling above his head, and eyes glanced up to the modified bird cage that hung from the middle of the room. A veilspun by the name of Vetur was held inside, colored stone grey and a deep green that reminded him of olden pines. She had been the one to tell him of the span of murders, 7 corpses found buried all around town but nothing connecting any besides how they were found. She had been the first arrested and taken in for questioning as the corpse tied to her had been buried in the roots of the tree she nested in. That was several months ago, but with the peace keepers no closer to finding the culprit, she was still being held for "questioning." Speaking of, he hadnt even been questioned yet. Just thrown into a cell and left, trying to piece together what happened from the other inmates. His eyes narrowed at such a thought, tail smacking the ground irritably. At this point, he just wished they would get on with it so he could head back home and repair the damages to his house he knew the peace keepers had caused in their haste to look for clues or evidence. His head perked at the sounds of foot steps and talking upstairs, headed for the door that led to the cells. Maybe he would get his wish after all.

[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/57543089][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/575431/57543089_350.png[/img][/url][/center] Vigorous hissing and spouting of many, [i]many[/i] profanities accompanied the heavy talons that begrudgingly scraped along the slate floor. It was practically an announcement to the knew cellmate they were no doubt receiving. The door to the dank room swung open and in was tossed a fiery-red Skydancer clad in jewels, silks and precious metals. Sparks scattered over the floor for a split second to those observant enough as golden vines that spindled around her limbs scraped over the rougher stone. Small embers flared from her nostrils as she stood and faced her captor. With her standing, it was clear that she was fastened with a muzzle, and clamps that kept her wings closed. "How [i]DARE[/i] you suspect me of such a barbaric act! I am [i]NOBILITY[/i]!" She screeched through the clamp over her face. Her orange eyes burned brightly with rage towards the giant Ridgeback that harassed her so. He simply let out a short chuckle and smirked at the smaller dragoness, moving to open a vacant cage and taking a large step to grab her. She turned to dodge but he managed to catch her tail and subsequently fling her into her little cell. Her back hit the bars and she let out a pained yowl. "Don't make me clamp you to the wall. Now sit tight, the warden will want a word with you. [b]All[/b] of you." The dark purple Ridgeback took a small moment to glare over all of the prisoners, before turning to leave with a flick of his reinforced tail. "The Flamecaller will have your head if I don't get to it first! He'll melt you into slag, you hear me?!" The fire Skydancer roared, gripping the bars as the pads of her paws hissed with steam against the cold metal. Upon closer inspection, this dragoness was indeed part of a noble faction stationed not to far from the bustling town. The Kin of The Flicker. A fire faction that had spread influence using their small armies long ago against a surprise Emperor uprising. Moranne was her name, mistress to the faction, and considered a high priestess of fire itself.

Quickly, he scrambled back from the bars of his own cell, a hiss coiling in his throat. He could feel the heat the dragoness was giving off through the thick wall between their cells and the screeching of metal, and her voice, made it feel like his ears were bleeding. He understood now why dragons with external ears pinned them against their head.

"Hey, knock it off! Your going to cook everyone in this room to death with that heat before the bars give, they're enchanted. And screaming will get you nowhere but hit, so hush already!" The words hissed out before he could think better of it, and he carefully scooted forwards to check on the veilspun in the bird cage. He could see strands of dark green hair spill out, but no movement and that worried him. Had she already been cooked? He knew veilspuns were fragile compared to other breeds but....

[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/77922066][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/779221/77922066_350.png[/img][/url][/center] The sound of an enraged newcomer and the harsh attempts to calm their fury fell upon keen ears. From within another cold cell a larger dragon stirred. Twin tines of a forked tongue tasted the prisoners scent. Ash, metal, and the pleasant null of a dragon leading a more lavish life. It was interesting how this conundrum effected such a wide range of individuals. Whoever was behind this string of backyard bodies must be quiet clever. That knowledgeable trait was so far all he could discern from the information he had collected. When fresh dirt had been churned on his small overgrown plot of land he was swift to investigate. That overeager zeal was what brewed suspicion. He had been smart enough to cover the area while he excavated the corpse but the damage of his earlier actions had already been done. A list of peculiar purchases for his obscure hobby and the recent acquisition of a shovel and he was undone. The bogsneak went quietly with the peacekeepers but he still grits his teeth thinking about his confiscated projects and shattered glassware. Curved claws scraped against the unnecessarily hard floor as they were brought out from beneath the resting dragon. Drab clothing and forcibly emptied satchels rustled as a bogsneak moved to the front of his cell. Up until now he had been the most recently introduced. He peered out at the peculiar sight that was the skydancer clad in restraints that he was grateful to not have received. A bulky head turned to the dragon that had addressed her. The one who smelled faintly grass and herbs was glancing upwards. That was something he happened to do quite often. The curious bogsneak had yet to come up with a reason for their fascination with the gilded cage and it's inhabitant. For now the overly observant dragon remained silent. His long tongue snaked out occasionally to test for nuances in the stale air.

The blazing heat that worked its way through her feathers subsided a few moments later, but the Skydancer was still blazingly angry. Eventually it reduced to that of a very hot summer's day, just before unbearable.

"If anyone should be yelling it's all of you!" Moranne snapped, "This is ridiculous! Me, a murderer?! How could anyone think of such a blasphemous, baseless accusation for a priestess?!" She hissed, pacing in her cell.

The lock on the back of her reinforced muzzle clanked around annoyingly to her, and she tried everything in her power to try and take it off. Though it seemed it needed a special enchanted key in order to remove. How fantastic. Eventually after enough pulling she gave up, pressing her head against the bars in defeat. The heat eventually died further down into a comfortable warmth, before it once again returned to the cold space it was before her arrival, signifying that her demeanor had changed. For now she simply took in the air, her eyes scanning the area before they met the odd Bogsneak's. She simply narrowed her orange gaze, before turning her head and resting it on the floor of the prison. Every now and then quiet grumblings of profanities and disbelief would be heard as she ignored the world outside her cell. Perhaps this would all clear itself up, at least she hoped it would.

"I assume you're all here for the same thing then..." The skydancer delivered with a sigh, breaking the silence of the dark room.

He let out a sigh as the temperature cooled, ruffled feathers settling. A small smile showed as he watched the small veil peek out from tiny bars now that the heat threat was gone. Good, he would have hated for her to be cooked, hermit or not. He did however, turn his scowl to the other.

"Honestly I wouldn't care if you were the Flamecallers offspring yourself. Priests and those of faith kill others all the time over stupid things. 'My god is better then your god blah blah blah.' Heard all that mess before, can do without it." Here he chuffed, settling himself into a sit before blinking at the bogsneak
"Yes, everyone in this room has the same accusation. They keep the other riff raff elsewhere. Someone had buried a corpse in my garden and I didn't even know it till the peace keepers raided my home. Vetur up there had one planted in the roots of her home tree. What about you, Little Pebble? Where was your calling card placed?"

The bogsneak had enjoyed the unfettered heat that radiated off of the bright skydancer. It brought back images of the sun that he hadn't before realized he missed. It may not have been very long but he feared what may become of his eyesight after a prolonged period in the unending dark. A trivial grievance, surely he should be more concerned about his freedom.
When the heat faded he shuffled his extremities closer to his large form. It was all in an effort to retain the little added warmth in his cold-blooded scales.

"A priestess..." He mused almost silently to himself. His head frills flared in amusement. How interesting! Somehow this mysterious killer had not only managed to plant a corpse in the priestess' talons but had made it convincing enough to condemn a holy dragoness! This one was on the more... volatile side so perhaps it was easier than it would have been otherwise. Now, what truly made this worthwhile information; was the murderer aware of this and using it to their advantage or had they simply gotten lucky?

An ill-timed smile twitched at the corners of the dragons maw. He was quick to turn his head away from the dim light in an attempt to hide the fault in his otherwise blank façade. While he was ashamed to admit it, living through a genuine whodunit was vastly entertaining. The bogsneak was a fan of books that held similar puzzles- and any puzzle at all.
The bogsneak's lumbering head turned back towards the center of the room when he had regained his composure.

The bogsneak listened in as the two spoke to each other. He took note of the locations of the other corpses and the name of the so far silent Vetur. He also noticed the darker skydancer's reluctance to speak kindly to the new prisoner. Although, it was very likely they were only sour about their own incarceration.

Her feathered form occasionally glittered with waves of red embers that flittered off into the air, temporarily lighting her form to ensure she was still there to any witnesses. The gem on her forehead swirled brightly upon the assumption that because she was a priestess she automatically had a god complex.

"I'll have you know I believe all of our deities are equal. I simply worship the Flamecaller for blessing me with his element." Moranne replied in a rather snooty tone, sitting up and setting herself prim. A short snort of candle flame emitted from her nostrils as she stared at the ground for a moment, deep in thought.

"Behind our manor we have a vineyard. We produce the finest of wines with pucker and blue berries on this side of the continent due to how fertile the land is with the ash. I have my own special tree that I've grown around my shrine to the Flamecaller, a hybrid of puckerberries and blueberries that I've successfully grafted together, producing berries that taste sweet and sour to the perfect degree," She paused for a moment, letting off a short hiss before continuing, "The Guard, of course, came to our manor and demanded that they search the area. They peeked around my shrine and alas, they managed to dig up the body of a young Wildclaw female who had succumbed severe wounds. The high priest couldn't do anything about proving my innocence as the guards were sure I was the culprit."

He blinked as he noticed the bogsneak tuck into themselves as though cold and eyes squint and gently he touched the orb dangling from his neck. It was similar to the light baubles used as lanterns, but his relied on heat more then light as he kept them for his more heat seeking plants. His face dropped to that of boredom though as the priestess spoke and he rolled his eyes. "Didn't need to know the details of berries, but thanks. Interesting that it was a wildclaw though, the one in my garden was... stars and spit what is it called, that weird eel looking breed thats started showing up lately. The old water breed. Poor snake was pretty much gutted from what I saw."

He eyed the fellow skydancer for a few moments before untying the large bauble from around his neck and thrusting it through the bars towards her. "Here, I need you to sneeze some fire onto this and charge it. You can do that much, eh?" He almost startled with Vetur spoke up, her voice soft spoken and wispy. "The dragon in my roots was a small fae, and all of their fins and wing membranes were missing...I dont like how they looked, curled up like that. It made them look like an egg not yet hatched, made them look wrong..." A faint shuffling was heard, bird cage slightly swinging as the draped hair disappeared. Her voice was almost nonexistent when she spoke again. "Everything about that situation felt wrong, felt sick...sickly, sickly little thing..."

The bogsneak listened closely to every word the priestess shared. Talk of berries stored in the expanse if his head presuming it will come up gain in the future. A wildclaw with severe wounds left undescribed and peacekeepers who knew well where the body was laid. It wasn't much to add to his collection of clues and inklings but he would be sure to remember it nonetheless.
His gaze shifted from the blazing phoenix of a skydancer to the more drab dragon across the room. Quietly he listened to their story with intrigue as well as the one belonging to the much smaller dragoness above. He was very much appreciative of the greater details these two mustered. The frills poised atop his twitched contently as he decided to recount the events of his own experience.

“A lowly merchant, skydancer. His name was Ruuk." The bogsneaks voice was low and melodic. There was an odd rasp to it indicative of it being seldom used. "He had gone missing a short while prior and his poor mother assumed it was due to their most recent squabble. The body was relieved of anything valuable. His talons were recently chipped, evidence of a fight with the killer. A battle he ultimately lost when a blade was run through the softer flesh of his throat. His feathers were afterwards removed along with the entirety of his head.” As he spoke the images were clear as crystal in his head. The dragons paws -blue after going through livor mortis- gently curled around barely damaged claws. His otherwise neat fur matted with blood and dirt. The soft indentation of a heavy necklace that once rested around the base of his neck. Of course, there was the ravaged tear of a cut that must have severed his head- clearly done after the dragons death. It was the smaller details the bogsneak enjoyed finding though. Such an awful thing... to like searching a corpse for clues. No, it was the puzzle- the chase that kept him next to the rotting body for hours. Nothing about the cadaver was pleasant.
“Nearly six and a half feet from the main entrance to my subterranean lab. I was lucky the hole did not collide with my ceiling." He sighs, "I do hope he's been removed. I would hate to return to find the dripping viscera had seeped through to my equipment.” The bogsneak spoke with an unpleasant grimace.