>>6145690Wow I got really confused and thought you were two different people posting, so sorry about that... let's fix that...
Northwest Jones approaches Xal'thor and Grak with a plan utilizing both their ideas...
1d20
18
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11:22:23
The hum of the alien machinery continued, ever-present, as Xal'thor and Grak huddled closer around Northwest Jones. His suggestion hung in the air, and for a moment, both Xal'thor’s scaled face and Grak’s furred one reflected quiet consideration. The plan to combine their efforts—Grak’s scheme to poison the food and Xal'thor’s to locate and sabotage the control systems—sounded plausible, even clever.
Xal'thor was the first to break the silence, his forked tongue flicking as he spoke. “A coordinated effort… Yes, it could work. If the poison creates enough panic, the guards will be distracted. It’s the only way anyone could slip away unseen.”
Grak grumbled in agreement, his claws flexing as he rested them on the cold, metallic table. “The paste is tasteless and reeks of their arrogance. They won’t notice it’s been tampered with—at least not until it’s too late.”
Xal'thor nodded, his voice a measured hiss. “While the chaos unfolds, someone must reach the control room. It will be heavily monitored, so stealth is essential.”
Their gazes shifted back to Jones, both silent for a moment, waiting for his thoughts or his subtle nod. Xal'thor flicked his tongue once more, glancing between Grak and Jones. “We act during the next meal.”
Grak grunted, his clawed hands tightening into fists. “We’ve got one shot at this. Make it count.”
The plan was simple, but its success depended on precise timing and the resolve of everyone involved. For the first time in days—or perhaps weeks—a spark of hope began to glow in their weary eyes.
Later, Xal'thor and Grak moved to a secluded corner of the dimly lit cell block. Xal'thor, with a deliberate motion, extended his neck and exposed a gland just beneath his scaled jawline. Grak, his massive claws surprisingly gentle, pressed at the gland, causing a thick, greenish fluid to ooze out. The substance dripped into a makeshift container they had scrounged together. Xal'thor hissed softly, his eyes narrowing with concentration as the poison-like secretion flowed. Grak looked at the container, his eyes dark with determination. “This will do,” he muttered, his voice a deep rumble. “This will be the beginning of their downfall.”
