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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ambrus" data-source="post: 4774710" data-attributes="member: 17691">The Wretch in the oublietteAlone in the dark, the wretch in the oubliette hears the rattling of keys and the officious tones of the guards as they unlock a cell door up above. Utterly delirious from the cold, pain and hunger of his prolonged duress, the prisoner struggles to turn over. Far above him is a faint light crisscrossed by rusted iron bars. To the wretch's fevered mind it is the light of salvation; they've finally come to release him...With a herculean effort, the prisoner painfully heaves himself up, weakly supporting his pain-wracked body on a pair of broken legs. The wretch raises a trembling hand up towards the light, the rattling of the guards' keys sounding like the dulcet tones of a celestial choir. Slowly, as if borne up by the angels themselves, the prisoner rises to his feet towards that light of hope and salvation...Out in the dimly light hallway, the guards and nearby prisoners might notice a surprising sight as a putrescent left hand emerge through the iron bars of the oubliette's grating in the floor. The desiccated limb continues to rise up past the elbow, revealing pallid and peeling flesh and fingers tipped with cracked fingernails caked with grime and dried blood. The arm's emergence is halted by the sturdy iron bars just short of the shoulder joint. Then a second ghastly hand rises, trembling, through the grate. "P-please... h-help me..."OOC: Five foot step up from the oubliette's floor. Readying an action to touch any creature who approaches the oubliette's grating.</blockquote>

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