Escape from Ironheart (IC)

[Inspectre]

The Mines

gnome_4ever

Leaping forward, you kick the spider in the side, which skitters back in surprise at this sudden attack. Taking advantage of the situation, you turn away and run, snatching up Amraf as you go. You drag him several feet away from the spider, which is a much safer location although not especially so with their ability to spew acid. Nonetheless, it is far enough that Amraf has time to invoke another of his illusions, and the spider dumbly charges forward into the wall of the tunnel. Stunned from the impact, it is easy prey and quickly falls from a blow from your shovel.

Everything is quiet in the tunnel for a moment, but then in the distance you hear a loud hissing screech. The kind of screech only something big and pissed off could make, and that was no doubt heading this way right now. “Desot. Get out of here. I’ll buy you some time.” Amraf pants, clearly pained by all of his acid-inflicted injuries. “I’ll only slow you down, especially with my wounded foot. Whatever’s coming next can’t get us both. You have to get out of here, escape for both of us. Now go! Take the lantern, and my pick, and go!” The little man says, propping himself up against the wall of the tunnel while waving at you to depart.

The Catacombs

ubersquid

As you uncork the vial, the green liquid abruptly fizzles up and boils out of the vial and onto your hand. This doesn’t seem to have any adverse effects on your hand besides making it wet and slightly sticky, but it does significantly reduce the amount of liquid in the vial by the time the fizzing subsides enough to allow you to properly re-cork the vial.

“Hmmm . . . I think I recognize that awful smell.” Marv says, sniffing. “Reminds me a bit of the healing potions I’d come across now and then in my travels. Although, these smell a bit, ah, “riper” than those! Doesn’t look like there’s much in your vial anymore. Oh well, still got this one! Which I guess I’ll just keep in my pack in case of emergency, eh?” Marv comments, sliding the second vial of green liquid into a small pouch on the outside of his backpack.

He slings his own backpack across his shoulders, picks up the slowly burning torch from the lighting bracket he had set it into, and returns your mock salute with a grin. “So, where to from here? Do we keep going and see where this passage leads us, or do we go back and hope the zombies have moved on? I’m not sure wandering around in the catacombs is going to be very good for our health, but then again past those zombies is nothing but a path leading up into guard territory again, which is perhaps only slightly worse than the unknown.”

???????

Voth

The Judge frowns angrily and shakes his head at you.

THE GOOD THAT HAPPENS FROM A CRIME DOES NOT ERASE THE SIN FROM YOUR SOUL. YOU HAVE CONSORTED WITH DEMONS. IT IS UNDENIABLE, AND NO GOOD THAT COMES FROM IT CAN ERASE THE EVIL OF THE ACT. YOU MUST BE PUNISHED, IF ONLY AS AN EXAMPLE TO OTHERS NOT TO REPEAT YOUR MISTAKE.

The Judge extends one hand down towards you, but immediately reaches that hand back up to his temple. He looks upward with a sneer of frustration, and then back down at you.

BUT, IT COULD BE ARGUED THAT THE SIN WAS NOT INITIALLY YOURS TO BEAR. AND CONTINUING YOUR CONTACT WOULD BE A LESSER SIN THAN INITIATING IT. ONE THAT COULD BE FORGIVEN IF YOU HAVE BEEN TRUTHFULLY LOOKING FOR A WAY TO BREAK OFF YOUR CONTACT WITH THE DEMONIC ENTITY, WHILE USING ITS POWER ONLY FOR GOOD.

Lowering its hand, the Judge sneers down at you.

VERY WELL THEN. CAN YOU NAME ONE SPECIFIC CIRCUMSTANCE IN WHICH YOUR CONTACT WITH DEMONS HAS BROUGHT ABOUT ONLY GOOD? NOT CONFLICTED CASES LIKE THE ONES WHICH HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE ON CHARGES BEYOND CONSORTING WITH DEMONS. BUT AN ACTUAL TRUE CASE OF BENEVOLENCE WHERE YOUR CRIME HAS ONLY BENEFITTED OTHERS?

MrEdwardNigma

Although the creature does not seem impressed with your offer, it is nonetheless distracted as it responds, its thin and croaking voice growing loud with each word.

You know nothing, lesser being. You flail and scream at the nothingness before you, but fail to comprehend its essence: nothing. Nothingness is all that awaits you, and you cannot escape your fate. Now, your soul shall be sent to meet its end, and be consumed by the onrushing End!

The thing takes a step towards you, but suddenly has a much bigger problem on its mind as your detached arm leaps up onto its back and starts to burrow into the hump. This thing was unlike anything you had ever seen, which made it most fascinating to you, but nonetheless it shared similarities to other things in nature. As such, you were able to identify where the weakest points in the growth’s armored shell were, and your arm picked the weakest of those to burst through into the guts of the strange growth.

The thing screeched and twisted, but even as the growth’s own limbs bend impossibly backward to snap at your arm, the thing was too slow as your arm completely passed through the shell. Now temporarily safe from reprisal, you begin to work your limb deeper into the growth, seeking the exact center of the thing. As your fingers work through the creature’s flesh, you have to repress an unnatural shiver of revulsion at the sensations being relayed by your arm. It was like pushing your hand through a barrel full of live worms, as countless tentacles floating in some sort of gooey solution flailed against your arm trying to push through them. Fortunately, your razor-tipped fingernails were most effective in cutting through the most recalcitrant of the tentacles, and you thought you were nearing the true center of the creature when suddenly everything went limb.

All of the tentacles around your arm went limp, allowing you to reach the center a few seconds later only to find an empty void. An instant after that, the growth at the back of the creature’s shoulders burst open, allowing an ovoid shape to float up into the air as the main body collapsed lifelessly to the ground. Floating in mid-air by means of some sort of magic, one end of the ovoid was equipped with four long whip-like tentacles and a large set of heavy mandibles. The other end was a large eye, which blinked open a moment later. It would seem that your theory of some sort of parasite corrupting a human body was correct. The creature clacks his mandibles angrily together, and then speeds off faster than you can react, zooming down one of the tunnels back towards the main complex.

Beneath you, Cassandra coughs weakly and mutters, “I don’t feel so good. That guy beat the hell out of me . . . and are you missing an arm!?”

WhiteKnight777

Mellita smiles nervously at your comment, absent-mindedly running one finger along the hilt of the now concealed weapon. “It was given to me by Hellion for this mission. Although silver does not have the adverse effects on my kind, others are not so fortunate. And of course, a holy blade is a dire threat to all of us. Therefore, it is an effective weapon against anyone that could prove to be a significant hindrance to your escape. Or at least, that is what I thought before encountering those hooded figures. What were they, Lord Umber? They reeked of death and utter . . . perversion. I have never sensed anything quite like them.”

After responding to your compliment, Mellita advances the rest of the way in silence, especially as the thralls approach. Leery of another ambush, you allow them to pass by unmolested, although much to the protests of your dry throat: you were getting quite thirsty. With them past, you and Mellita continue down the passageway, and an all-too familiar voice begins to echo up from cavern ahead.

“Come lads! Surely one amongst your pathetic number has the stones to face a true abomination! No? Then perhaps a simple choice will help: face it or me. Your choice; it has been too long since my warhammer has kissed the ashes of your kind. Ah, that’s a good toadie! Watch the tail now! Ouch!”

The voice is undoubtedly that of Paladin Alexander Ross, and as you reach the exit of the tunnel you can see his armored back, along with the backs of perhaps a dozen other figures. They are all facing off against another familiar sight to you, a Bone Golem, although its been awhile since you’ve seen one. Braced on its four legs, the creature gives a little hop forward as one of the figures sweeps in towards it, chopping it in half with its powerful tail. There is no blood from the massive wound, and an instant later the figure is reduced to a pile of ashes, a clear indicator that the unlucky figure had been a vampire.

“Ah well, he’ll be back come sundown. Now then, let’s see if the rest of your poor sods are any luckier! I’ll even come in and join you this time. All together now! Three, two, one!”

A heartbeat after the countdown Ross gives a bestial roar as he unslings the warhammer from its usual resting place on his shoulder, racing forwards towards the Bone Golem as another six of the figures flanking him rush in towards the construct. Although currently distracted by the guardian, there were a lot of combatants in the room who would be only too happy to return you to your initial state at the beginning of the day should you be spotted. But then again, as soon as the Bone Golem finally fell, those in the room would have one less distraction to keep them from spotting you. And you certainly couldn’t remain here forever, leaving you stuck until all of the cavern’s current occupants decided to leave.

Private Torture Chambers

Dorizzit/rubakhin

You quickly move to join the fray, killing three guards before they are even aware that another opponent has joined the battle. Unfortunately, your hand becomes stuck in the body of the third guard you killed. A strong body blow, your fire-arm burns through the man’s internal organs in seconds, but as you move to withdraw your hand you realize that your hand is momentarily stuck.

It seems that you had plunged your hand in a bit too high, and now were caught up in the man’s rib cage. Unlike the flesh surrounding them, the bones were not instantly reduced to ash by your fire-arm. Instead, they merely blackened as the heat from your arm gradually charred them to nothing. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be nearly fast enough, as the disarmed guard approaches, now menacingly wielding a dagger.

Ducking under a pair of blows from behind, the lone figure crouches down to slide one foot behind him and to one side, placing his leg between those of the guard to his left, while he slips his handaxe behind the left leg of the guard to his right. Simultaneously he sweeps both his outstretched leg and handaxe forward, tripping both guards. As the two unprepared guards crash to the ground the man stands up, swinging his outstretched leg up to kick the chest of the guard directly in front of him. As this third guard also falls, the figure whips his handaxe back and then forward, releasing it perfectly to throw it through the melee swirling around him and into the back of the startled guard approaching you. The guard falls at your feet, dead and with a mystified expression as to how this was so.

Now gripping his bastard sword in both hands, the figure swings wildly in front of him, driving the other guards back momentarily. The figure leaps through the now opened gap in the ranks of the guards, pausing momentarily to boot the fallen guard immediately in front of him in the jaw. The guards hot on his heels, the figure dashes over to you, swinging around to present his back to you.

“Seraph.” The man says simply, dragging a dagger from his boot and using it to parry the leading guard’s attack, before responding with a snap kick to the guard’s face. As the guard stumbles back, cradling his bleeding nose, the other seven rush in to surround you both, joined by the sole survivor from your group of five. As they close in, another four guards appear on the landing of the stairway. “There he is!” One of them shouts, pointing, before all four rush down to join the fight. Although some are wounded by either you or Seraph, this still means that there are thirteen guards left standing.

The Labs

Iethloc

You better hope there’s no adverse effects from all this. *I* have to live with whatever’s left by the time we get out of here. Which won’t be much if this keeps up! The assistant mentally chides you, although leaves you alone to finish off the half-demons. Which you manage to accomplish a few moments later with a ball of lightning. Streaking out from your hand into the face of the creature, the ball breaks open to play electricity all over the creature’s form, leaving it in drooling convulsions before it finally lies still.

“Ha! You may have bested my sons, but my daughter shall destroy you! Now Omega, kill him!” The overweight researcher cackles as he yanks the glass tube’s door open, having finally undone the locks sealing it. A moment later a feminine figure steps out of the glass tube, although identifying it as human might be presumptuous.

Certainly, a young woman had been used as the base for the creature before you, but a hodgepodge of demonic pieces had been grafted onto her frame. Most notable of these was the set of leathery bat wings folded neatly against her shoulder blades, and the ram-like horns emerging from her temples, looping back and around to end in dull points along either side of her chin. Of course, the blood-red reptilian eye sitting beside its piercing blue human companion was also quite noticeable, as were her taloned feet as they scrapped against the floor. The last noticeable exterior difference was the modified right hand: long slender fingers ending in claws with a retractable bone scythe built into the wrist. However, the faint incision scars covering her body along with odd protrusions and hollows underneath the skin suggest that significant modifications were made internally as well.

Turning to face you, Omega raises her clawed right hand impassively, and flames instantly burst into existence directly in front of you. The heat drives you back a step, but you realize that retreating further might not help as the wall of fire begins to extend, moving to completely encircle you.

“Yes, that’s it! Kill him!” The researcher shouts, moving over to crouch behind a nearby bench to watch the battle from (relative) safety.

Ritual Chambers

Pwenet

Harvey is strangely silent despite your prodding, which is most unusual as he generally has at least a sarcastic comment to offer in situations as these. No doubt feeling that he must offer at least something, he simply commands you to eat.

We must feed. Do so quickly, before she arrives. But take care only to consume the flesh that is still human. I sense the taint of a most unnatural and foul corruption from these bodies. The results of eating such tainted flesh would surely be unpleasant, along with probably tasting pretty bad. I wouldn’t recommend even eating the cooked human bits, but we can’t go into battle on an empty stomach in our current state.

It is difficult to pick out the untainted human flesh due to the rubbery tentacles that you find throughout the things’ entire bodies, but eventually you manage to pick off enough charred human flesh to stave off your mounting hunger. Slowly, the pain burning in your ragged stump of a limb fades as your body works at regenerating an entire new arm. That arm wouldn’t be ready for quite awhile yet, and so with a little bit of resignation you turn to face the girl to reveal the full state of your condition to her.

Again, the girl raises a hand to cover her horrified face, although her eyes are surprising full of sympathy and compassion as they focus on your missing arm. “Wh-what happened to you? What *are* you? A-are you sure it’s even s-safe to move around like that, with your arm . . . missing?” The girl gasps, continuing to stare at your gaping but slowly healing wounds.

You quickly explain the situation to the girl, searching both bodies meanwhile for anything else that might be useful before you set out in pursuit of the slaves and their keepers once again. Most possessions, if the creatures had any to begin with, had been vaporized by your dragon breath or destroyed in some other manner during the battle. As such, you find nothing of use or even of note on the two bodies, save for one item on the leader. Hanging from the leader’s neck by a simple leather thong was a black iron medallion.

Etched into the medallion was an extremely ornate depiction of a setting sun. Unlike normal depictions of a sun, however, the rays were drawn on the inside of the sun, leading downward into its center rather than out and away. The rays were also twisted and distorted, overall giving the depiction more of an impression of a swirling vortex than an actual sun. And of course, what the sun was setting behind couldn’t be ignored: an endless mountain of human skulls, painstakingly individually carved out in detail on the medallion’s face. The thing radiated a palpable aura of evil, and at the sight of it one small corner of your brain argued vehemently to simply curl up into a ball and pretend that none of this was real, that it was all a dream and you’d be waking up shortly in a nice warm bed. The depiction also had a noticeable effect on Harvey, who stirred in your mind first with interest in your find, and then with a mounting sense of disbelief and hatred that you couldn’t help be feel radiate off from him.

No! It can’t be! That sigil is some sort of ruse, a trick! They probably found it in some old treasure chest somewhere and thought it looked cool to use as the symbol for their stupid cult! It can’t be them, thousands of years later! But even if it’s not really them, these creatures have chosen to associate themselves with that symbol! That accursed symbol, which flew on human banners millennia ago! That accursed symbol, which was the standard of the human army that came to my ancestral home when I was but a whelp! That accursed symbol, which flew above the ruins of my home after my family was slaughtered and I barely escaped! RRRRAAAARRGGGHHH! I don’t care where they got this from! They’re dead! They’re all dead! We shall exterminate every last one of this filth, and we shall not rest until they’ve all breathed their last! I will not brook any argument from you on this, human. I have dreamed of taking revenge against those of this symbol for dozens of your lifetimes. I was too weak then to defend my home, but now I am strong enough to avenge it! Let us find the other two that fled to start with!
It is therefore with considerable urging from Harvey that you race down the tunnel after the two other figures and their slave chain of prisoners. The girl races after you, trying her best to keep up as you drag her along, otherwise she would be utterly lost in the total darkness without her torch (which you used to distract the Bone Golem). You do not have a particularly long distance to run, as a minute or two after setting out again you find the tunnel slopping sharply around to lead into another cavern. From within the cavern you can hear the quiet sobbing of the prisoners, with louder chanting that is still barely above a murmur.

Peeking into the cavern, you can see that most of the prisoners are still in the slave chain, currently huddled against the one wall where the end of the chain has been padlocked to a heavy iron ring bolted into the wall. One prisoner, a young boy, has been removed from the slave chain and carried over to an obsidian black altar in the center of the cavern. One of the remaining black-robed figures has carried the boy over to the altar by the throat with one hand, and without particular concern for the boy’s wellbeing, body slams him down onto the altar.

It is here that the second figure takes over, driving an iron spike down through each of the boy’s wrists and pinning his arms to the altar. Picking up another pair of the slender rods, the figure drives them through the boy’s ankles, effectively pinning him helplessly in place. The boy’s wild panicked screams of agony echo through the room, causing the prisoners to huddle even more tightly together: evidently none of them were close relatives to the boy otherwise his screams might have had a different reaction.

Now chanting loudly over the boy’s screams, the second figure picks up another set of the iron spikes, preparing to drive their slender points into some other soft part of the boy’s body as blood begins to pool onto the altar’s surface from his already four serious limb wounds.