Priority 1:
C - 5
Your ozun eyes swivel in their sockets, coming to rest on the pattern of glyphs bound to your carapace. They are not glyphs of ink, nor of charcoal, nor of paint. These are of a far rarer kind - glyphs of energy alone. Long-forgotten powers. Hell was crafted a truly long time ago, even by your standards. It'd surprise you if more than one or three arcanists in the wider world knew how to work such a thing.
[Arcane:
Pass]
You look with eyes tinged with, dripping with, the forgotten color. A color called cursed, called malign, so much so that it was stricken from the world, sealed within its former bearers. The color ozun. Were it not so tightly wound, bound by design and fearful magic-practice, you would rule Hell. You would rule the outside world, or at least a good portion of it. Now it is trapped within you. But within you is exactly where the Warden's glyphs are.
What you see is merely the shadow of the true markings, a formula etched on the core of your being, transferred by the death of the previous Warden. You are acknowledged. You are seen. Hell knows you. You may not leave - indeed, you cannot. But no prison can go without a Warden, a keeper. It is a grudging pact. Who else but a prisoner could be chosen to be a Warden? You could work with Hell, its structures, corridors, complexities. Or you could attempt to defy your fate - and plot to bring it down. Maybe escape is impossible. But shattering the prison itself hardly counts as escape, does it?
[Arcane:
Pass]
You are no arcanist - merely a keeper of a truly magical color. But it is enough. You see the intricate bound patterns in your mind's eye, within your heart's portrait. A masterpiece. Hell binds you. But in return, you bind Hell. There is no door - properly functioning, at least - that will not open to your will. The golem-guards heed you. You have power here. You can keep order here. You can take your place as Warden, reject your former place as worthless fodder, and rule Hell.
But there is a burning hate inside you.
A: You shall become Warden, and rule Hell.
B: You shall become Warden, and plot to free yourself. (Boost: Vengeful Drive!)
C: ... okay, snacktime. Let's see how the old Warden's blood tastes.
D: It's all too much. Scream.