Tamrissa lets out a cross between a relieved sigh and a moan of pleasure as the gem is broken into pieces. Closing her eyes, she crouches down with her fingers spread and her hands pressed against the stone floor. Energy and life are poured back into her weakened body. She throws back her head and opens her eyes to stare down her nose at the two Oghrun that have paused just a few feet from her.

“That’s right,” she whispers calmly. “Now I outmatch you.”

Vines burst from beneath the stone, wrapping roughly around the ankles of the two. Their tough leathery green tendrils tighten mercilessly around the thick hides of her captors. Bright green flashes through her eyes and the Oghruns’ feet are ripped out from under them, sending them to the ground in rumbling crashes. Their wrists are restrained in the same way as their legs and when she is finished with them, they are laying with their limbs spread wide.

“Don’t,” the hard substance of the floor seems to melt under them, leaving only their backs and their heads poking out. “…move.”

Watching as other slaves climb over the Oghrun, she dusts her hands together and breathes in the power flowing all around her. Her form sways slightly, an unfelt breeze lifting her blood-drenched curls. Beneath the dried blood, her pale skin seems to shimmer with the magic present once again inside of her. A metallic song flows into her ears…

The Kurusunami, she smiles at the thought, knowing exactly where it rests.

As she moves purposefully towards her destination, thorned vines explode from the floors and walls to pull oncoming Oghrun out of her way, pieces of the prison are thrown at them when they break free, dust swirls into their eyes, and ground melts beneath their feet to render them motionless.
Just as she turns the corner into the room where her sword lies, an arm swings around and thuds into her chest, bringing a loud cry of pain from her. She looks up from her place on the floor, white trying to cloud her vision as she tries to see what hit her. A ragged, guttural cry sounds from above her and she quickly rolls as a spear slams into the floor where she was. Her vision finally clears enough to see the Oghrun raising the spear again.

“Filthy sorceress!” he growls and whips the spear in her direction as she scrambles to her feet.

She dodges it just barely and runs into the room where their weapons are spilled all over the floor, the Oghrun behind her tearing her defensive vines away like mere strings.

“Smelly Oghrun!” she retorts, scooping up a dagger and hurling at him.

The dagger is knocked out of the air with a laugh from the brute. He stomps towards her, heading her off as she begins throwing weapons aside to find hers. Her eyes find the Kuru’s sheathed tip sticking out of the pile just behind the Oghrun’s left foot while he stares menacingly down at her.

“You are looking for this one?” he chuckles as he plucks the sword from the ground and grips its covered blade in his massive fist. “I may die soon, but you die first.”

He grins viciously, white foam beginning at the corners of his lips in his rage. She stays silent, trying to look frightened as he reaches for the hilt. Slowly she begins shaking her head, the smile inside of her mind reaching her face. His fingers touch the hilt and all color fades from his hand, the drain stretching up his arm and spreading into the rest of his body.

“Let go of the sword, moron,” she sighs, watching as his skin begins to wrinkle and his eyes roll back.

Giving a small kick to his elbow, she knocks the sword from his grip and catches it. While she unsheathes her no longer lost blade, vines pull the stunned Oghrun down and the floor turns soft and then hardens to hold him prisoner. Surprisingly, she has not yet killed any of the beasts, only imprisoned them or harmed them enough to keep them down.

“He is yours to judge,” she says grimly to a group of slaves entering the room at a run.

Then she is off at a run, looking for the way out of the prison.

My lord Soul, where do we meet for the victory party? she reaches out for his mind and speaks in a calmly joyful tone, finally being able to use the powers of the mind.

Her gaze sweeps over the littering of bodies on the ground outside the arena as she finds her way into the sunlight. She stops, her open power disliking the feel of death and destruction to life. Muffling her energy, she blinks against the sudden brightness of light and continues to stride towards the sounds of battle still going on.

She walks into the arena in time to see a few of her companions and one she does not know fighting the ancient Oghrun slave master. Standing with a group of freed slaves, she flinches as Peterson drives a sword into the defeated monster’s face. Her eyes go to Kitharsis and she steps forward, kneeling down next to the fallen warrior.

“I don’t know his magic, so it would be dangerous to use my own on him,” she puts her fingers just beneath his jaw, feeling for a pulse. “Find one of those healing draughts and we will hear his story from the man himself.”

Her eyes go up to Peterson and Asaki. Before she can give them a smile, her eyes widen. The slave master, recovered only slightly with the help of the healing liquid the other Oghrun tried to administer to him, rises up behind them. Blood pours from his lips, hanging in thickened black drips as he growls. Two swords are in his meaty fists and he raises them to deliver a blow.

“Behind you!"

A thick vine wraps around his torso to try and pull him back, but the weapons still swing downwards at both Peterson and Asaki's backs...