The Big Sink, Cellblock #1
The raspy voice continues, audible from the pair of eyes gazing down, through the stormdrain. "Lliend Caplin," he murmurs in Trenchtown's urban drawl, now, "feller's got blue eyes, brown hair, little scar above 'is eye." Some shifting can be heard from the stormdrain, leather scraping against the cobbles as this elf attempts to get a better look in the thin slit of vision the stormdrain provides. The rat squeaks as in his frusturation the pet is jammed aside.
Then, in the halting cadences of Druidic: "Two of ya down there, eh? Name's Grater, out here to pop a lad named Caplin, freed a lot of us floppy-ears. S'pose it's the Railroad's way 'a thankin' 'im. Any-road, there's two 'a our lot down there, and I've got just enough puissence for two springs. So as long as ya swear to make a lot of ruckus so I can spring this Caplin feller if I come across him, I'll have ya out in half a jiff."
Suddenly, the rat emits a shrill squeak as hands glimpsed by the inch through the stormdrain wrap around it, its black, oily fur churning in intricate ways. The man, clasping the rodent, makes small coughing noises near the back of his throat -- the air suddenly becomes dry, as if its essence had been robbed.
A slight hiss comes from the stone floor beneath the door. A cloud of loose dirt bursts upward through the minute cracks between stone blocks. With a slight yawn, the floor just beneath the door caves inward and downward, leaving a haphazard crumble of fine dirt and collapsed mortar. Wavering gas-lantern light spills from beneath the door.
"Enjoy," the man rasps, before, by the sound of it, he runs off into Trenchtown's night.
OOC: So, basically, there's a space beneath the still shut and locked cell door that you can crawl out of into the hallway beyond. 
D -- Dartan, I -- Iannja, J -- Josh, L -- Lliend, M -- Makh, Ma -- Malaci, O -- Orb, T -- Tish, and Ty -- Tyson.
