The Grandslate
"Wanna do the honors?" Jett asked.
A smile lit up on the fiery man's lips as he unsheathed his sword quickly, "'Course I do!"
With a single slash, backed by the volatile element of fire, the greatsword cleaved through the suppressing cuffs, allowing them to snap in half before falling from the summoner's wrists.
Jett rubbed his sore wrists before rolling his shoulders, finally stretching, "Much better. Oh, break his, too."
Turning around, he pointed to his elven friend, who meekly walked out, still unsure of the role of the strangers who had caused the jail break.
"Err, please…?" Lorel asked quietly with a worried laugh, holding his cuffs up.
"Who's the punk?" Jiao raised an eyebrow at the curly-haired elf, leaning down as he inspected the young man.
Lorel shied away from the prying gaze of Jiao, only able to gulp. Fortunately for the elf, Jett properly introduced him, placing his hand on the shoulder of his newfound ally.