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located in Eath, a part of Bound At The Wrists, one of the many universes on RPG.

Eath

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Leave... Escape... Get going... Heh, where were they planning on going exactly? If you somehow didn't lose your way through the mazes of dimly lit rooms and found the hallway that led upstairs, you'd still have to get through a 3-inch steel locked gate that touched the ceiling. The lock was almost completely impervious to lockpicks, and withheld the blows of many demon. There was one window though, but it was only a foot wide and touched the top of the 20ft ceiling. The only people that ever really escaped were corpses carried out by Azrael himself.

The dim lights flickered back on, despite the position of the switch.

"Are my kittens playing nice together?" The soft uncanny voice seemed to creep its way through the dungeon. Between the strong fragrance of blood and talk of escape Azrael just couldn't keep himself away from the party any longer. About twenty feet away from the others he sat, cross-legged on the remains of what use to be a stone wall but now merely a bunch of rubble that stood about two feet high. Large portions of walls were crumbled away, which made it easy for everyone to see him and each other.

"Naughty naughty, now how'd you kitties get loose?", Azrael questioned as his pale icy lips curved into a subtle grin. He dropped his small brown sack on the ground besides him. His attire consisted of a long sleeved black button-down shirt with the first silver button undone under a thick black blazer. His sleek black business pants were snug to his petite waist but were flared out more at the buttom, hiding most of his all black boots. His hair was swept back out of his face in long dark-brown locks that ran down his neck and curled slightly at the sides. His eyes were full of confidence and locked on the many others, not wanting to miss a second of their reaction.