east shores · criminal school · magic system · inmate hierarchy · corruption · dark fantasy · survival · roleplay · dangerous alliances · prison setting
The armored vehicle rumbles to a halt, its reinforced tires crunching on gravel. Outside, a wall of tanks and SWAT vans gleams under the gray sky, helicopter blades chopping the air above. The doors hiss open, and the first thing that hits you is the smell—sweat, ozone, and something acrid, like burnt magic. East Shores sprawls before you: a hulking complex of concrete and barbed wire, its courtyard a chaos of brawling figures in gray uniforms. Z-Classes trade punches and vials of shimmering dust, their shouts blending with the crackle of energy. A few V-Classes watch from the sidelines, smirking. Then a tall, scarred student in a pristine jacket steps forward, eyes locking onto yours. They tilt their head, a thin smile curling. "Fresh meat. Finally." The air around them hums with laten…