Escape from Ironheart (IC)

[Dorizzit]

"I should be able to. I hope I will...god. I never really thought about it before. Eight years. I only even know because the guards always had special anniversary sessions..." Korram shakes his head slowly. "Very well, we'll go to processing first. Do you want time to summon any additional aid? If not, shall we go?"

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber just gives a little chuckle and shakes his head. He wondered if this whelping had guessed his true motives in going on that long, rather nonsensical rant about cliched and overdone plans. He might, and he might not. He wasn't stupid, not by any measure. And it seems he had learned much about him, Umber. Too much for comfort, actually. Something would have to be done about that. Having such information floating about was discomforting, to say the least.

And, thought Umber, he wondered if this little pup really understood the value of the Elixir. Certainly he didn't appreciate what it gave the imbiber. At least, what it gave if the imbiber was worthy and willing to pay the price... The power it granted, the ability to unlock the full potential of blood and soul. These lesser vampires, to them it granted but a pittance, a delay of time's ravages... but even they, over the ages, grew drawn and thin, needing more and more of the precious red ichor, their power growing slowly but death just as slowly claiming them piece by piece... but to a Lord of Blood... ah... true eternity. Youth and vigor and the power to take on the strength of those one fed upon. Feh, what he knew mattered little. What he thought mattered not at all. Umber would be free, and he would have his revenge. This whelp would be dealt with, sooner or later, though perhaps not by him. For now, there were more pressing issues to deal with.

After a moment of quiet thought, Umber grinned again, nodding.

Most... interesting. Very well, your offer is most agreeable to me, Helion. Though I see one particular flaw in your logic: If Melitia holds so little value to you, and you already consider her dead and dust, how does giving her to me as a hostage offer me any sort of assurance that you will not change your mind? Not that it matters to me, of course, because trust you or not, this is, as you know, I'm sure, my only option. Thus, I accept. I swear I shall not seek to harm you so long as you do not attempt to harm me, yourself or by proxy, and do not attempt to hinder me in any form or fashion. Also, I shall deliver unto you a sizeable sum of treasure upon my escape from this abomiable fortress. Umber chuckled a little at this. That part of the agreement bothers me the least. In truth. I have never had trouble earning or taking whatever riches I desired, and I doubt I shall have any in the future. Umber shrugged as much as he could through the chains, wincing a little as the silver chafed his skin raw. Now then... unless you have anything more to add, my only question is what the best route out of this place is.

He turns to Melltia And, if you would, my dear, kindly get the rest of these chains off of me as quickly as possible. I would like to be gone from here. I have a great many debts to pay, and I do so like to be prompt when balancing the scales.

[Gnomish Wanderer]

"Oh-" Desot manages to spit out as the creature drops toward him. He instictively drops to his knees and slams the shovel upward, the lantern falling to his side as his off hand also grabs the wooden hilt. He readies himself to swing the spider's weight away with the shovel's metal head in a hope to buy an extra second for... anything.

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

"Ah, nevermind. We got the prisoner back under control. He has a lot of fight in him today!" Sohssal responds, crafting as reasonable a lie as he could. Sohssal couldn't help but grin after saying this. I, personally, find this situation hilarious. Don't you? Sohssal mocked mentally. He took the time needed to open the door to shove his former captor further from control, as well as greedily absorbing what magical energy he could feel.

As the last rod clicked out of place, the air in front of Sohssal began shimmering with heat. Wasn't that a refreshing break? Sohssal poked at the original owner of the body. As the huge door opened, Sohssal let loose a jet of flames from his hands, focused onto the body of the poor guard that revealed himself, sending him soaring backwards as Sohssal squeezed past the door. Hey, with some luck, he might even hit that blasted silver mirror. Wouldn't that be neat? Sohssal taunted his new partner, but he still kept a critical eye out for either the Sage or the accursed mirror.

[Engineer]

Amraf swing his Pick axe down, taking care no to hit his larger freind. As he does that he says, "If I peirthe youh , wihhll youh burth?"

[Voth]

Quickly weighing his options, Voth decides to descend into the darkness, rather than stay and fight.



((OOC: Sorry Writers Block hopefully the next entry will be much more detailed.))

[ubersquid]

"By my mothers lousy beard! DEAD-UNS!"

Elkwin shouts as he sees the zombies devouring the guards.

He kneels down on the ground and hastily bends the chain that connects him to the other prisoners over a loose rock, while he watches the three creatures in front, crawling over the fourth and the dead guard.

"Alright Mister Dwiggs, show me what you really can do with that pick of yours."

Then he turns his head around and stretches it as far away from his hands as he can, to prevent his face from getting hit by any pieces that might chip away, and far more importantly Dwiggs' Pick.

Closing his eyes to a squint he recognizes the Zombies at the back as well, and the other prisoners already stumbling towards him in fear.

"HIT IT!"

[rubakhin]

Dima sizes up the hounds. "It's fine for now. The dogs won't last long, I think, but I'll be able to create more on the fly. Let's go."

[Dorizzit]

Korram seems almost sort of happy. "Good. Let's go." He treads away at a quick pace in the direction of processing, his long, powerful strides moving him quickly over the ground.

[Feralgeist]

as he slides off the chimera, bones beginning to retract, lamont coughs wetly, falling down onto his back on the rough sand. The bones cushion his fall, and begin to envelop him, wrapping him in a loving protective cocoon, leaving only his face and the cold iron poking out of his legs free. He sprouts small spikes beneath his mask, then retracts them, consciously willing the wounds not to heal. Blood begins to drip through the holes in his mask, and he rolls up into a kneeling position, awaiting the guards to drag him away.
The cocoon enveloping him begins to harden, protecting him against further debilitating injuries while he internally repairs himself.

As the guards approach him, he coughs again, a small gout of blood splashing onto the sand.
"I need to heal if i'm to fight again, put me in the coffin and i'll be useless"
His vision swimming before his eyes, lamont blacks out.

[Inspectre]

The Spires: Key Storage

Voth

Racing through the dimly-lit shelves of keys, you manage to avoid a confrontation with the guards as you make your way over to the stairs. Coming close to reaching your destination, however, you hear an alarmed cry followed by a crossbow bolt whistling past your head to slam into a nearby shelf. Picking up the pace and abandoning secrecy for the moment, you dash over to the stairway leading down and fling yourself down them.

Flying down the steps at top speed as they curl around and downwards, you don’t have enough time to react as someone suddenly appears in your path. Crashing directly into this figure, you bowl him over and together the two of you roll the rest of the way down the stairs with a loud cry from the impromptu roadblock.

Together, the two of you land in a heap at the bottom of the stairs a moment later, and you can see that the man is not a guard, but rather one of the unarmed general staff. Pinned underneath you, he reaches up to clutch at his head with a low moan, while the other reaches down to feebly pull at his left leg, twisted awkwardly and trapped underneath him.

Looking around the room, you see that you’re in what appears to be a small workshop, two more general staff members, a man and a woman, staring at you in mute terror from their positions at one of the workbenches. Sitting on the workbenches is a variety of tools, as well as a few thick strips of brass. One such strip appears to be a work in progress: numerous chucks cut out of it and the rough shape of a key beginning to appear in the strip.

Of the exits out of this room, there appears to be only two: another stairway nearby that continues to lead down through the Spire, and an iron door similar to the one that you used to enter the Spire in the first place. It therefore seems likely that beyond this door is another tunnel of metal leading you either back to the Research Tower, or over to the Aerial Mount Tower.

The loud footsteps echoing down from the top of the iron stairs that you currently rest at the base of suggest that you will need to decide where to go quickly though: the guards above are in hot pursuit.

The Mines

gnome_4ever/Engineer

Kneeling, Desot drops the lantern to grip his shovel in a strong two-hand hold, thrusting it up to meet the descending spider. A shovel’s shaft is a little longer than the spider’s legs, and even with its dull edge the spider lands with enough force for the shovel to sink about an inch into its armored carapace. Several drops of bright yellow blood ooze out from the crack now running along the spider’s underside, which hiss faintly as they impact against the ground. One lands on Desot’s check, burning painfully for an instant before fading.

Between the danger of more drops of blood and the spider’s legs flailing wildly, their sharp tips only a few inches from Desot’s face and hands, Desot decides now would be a good time to get rid of his burden. Swinging his shovel around, Desot flings the wounded spider off his shovel and against a nearby wall, a loud crack echoing through the chamber as another section of the spider’s carapace is shattered from the impact.

As it tumbles to the ground, weakly struggling to stand again, Amraf rushes over and finishes the creature, driving his pick into its head. The legs twitch spasmodically for a few seconds, and then fall still as Amraf wrenches his tool out of the spider’s head. It is with some concern that you note the tip of Amraf’s pick and the edge of Desot’s shovel are now pitted and scarred, no doubt the work of the creature’s blood. While they still appear to be serviceable, further deterioration might become a problem.

From the spider’s mouth, a slow stream of liquid oozes, starting to burn a hole down through the rock. Other than the constant hissing coming from the growing hole, there are no other sounds in the tunnel for the moment.

Warshrike/ubersquid

Quickly realizing the need to be mobile and separate from the dead weight of the other prisoners who are already cowering between the two remaining guards, Elkwin bends the chain holding him to the other prisoners and calls for Dwiggs’s aid. The stout dwarf immediately nods with a grunt, driving his pick down into one of the links of chain. With the loud rasp of tearing metal, one side of the link ruptures under the impact, leaving a hole that Elkwin is easily able to slip the remaining links of chain out of.

Encouraged by that success, you realize that it’s possible to do the same thing to the shackles and fetters still holding you prisoner, but their iron is of considerably better quality and thus will likely take several such blows before crumbling. In any case, there would be no time for that just yet.

“Aim for the head!” You hear the guard leader shout, demonstrating by stepping forward and driving his club straight down into the skull of one of the zombies blocking your retreat. With a wet crack the zombie’s skull gives way, imploding under the blow, leaving the rest of its body to fall in a heap at the guard’s feet.

“Got it!” The other guard shouted back, stepping forward to copy the leader’s attack on one of the zombies approaching from the other direction. Unfortunately, his understanding of the process of zombie killing is left highly in doubt, as the zombie suddenly shifts to one side as it shuffles forward, causing the guard’s blow to impact against its shoulder instead.

There is a dull crack as the zombie’s arm visibly sags from the blow, but even such a debilitating injury is almost nothing to one of the undead. Snarling, the zombie plows into the guard with the “crippled” shoulder, slamming them both into the nearby wall of the tunnel. Holding the guard pinned against the wall by its broken shoulder, the zombie clamps down on the top of the man’s shoulder in retribution, biting down until his screams turn into shrill cries.

This clears the way for the other zombies, and they descend into the midst of the chained prisoners like wolves into sheep. “Brains!” They hungrily cry, one falling onto a hapless prisoner to hamstring him with a hard bite to his one calf before pulling the prisoner in closer. The other zombie, as it turns out, is a bit more discerning in its tastes as it descends upon Dwiggs, busy attempting to break another prisoners out of the slave line.

“Help!” He grunts as the zombie throws itself upon his back, driving him down to the floor. Before the zombie can sink its teeth in, however, the dwarf shows he won’t go quietly with a sharp elbow to the zombie’s nose, shattering it completely. Uncaring, the zombie uses one hand to shove the dwarf’s head down, pinning it against the ground as its open jaws start to descend.

The Arena

Frozen

Attempting to shield your wounded body with a carapace of bone, you feel yourself beginning to black out from your injuries. Seeing a few guards armed with crossbows start to appear at the rim of the Pit, you call out to them not to put you back into your shackles or your iron coffin. Doing so might prevent your recovery, which was needed to occur if you were to fight in another match. You then pass out completely, hoping desperately that the guards would follow your instructions.

You do not dream, thankfully, as most of your dreams involve your time back with the mad wizard, cackling maniacally and taunting you as you suffer through the most recent of his experiments. You do not know how much time passes, but gradually you become aware of your body again. It has reverted back into its human form, which implies that the unconscious repair of your damaged body was almost complete. Slowly, awareness of your surroundings returns as well, and you can feel that the cold iron has been completely removed from your body. In their place, you can feel heavy iron manacles wrapped around your wrists and ankles, which seem to be attached to the wooden table you are currently lying on.

Suddenly, you can sense a presence standing above you. “Ssshh. Lie still, you are badly injured.” A voice grates out, echoing painfully in your overly sensitive ears as you continue to slowly regain consciousness. Something damp and cool is pressed down onto your forehead, and then the presence is gone.

As your senses continue to gradually return, you can hear the sounds of low, pained moaning coming from all around you. Now and then you hear the voice return, whispering and soothing one source of the moans before darting off to another.

Finally, the presence and its attached voice return, and you can make out the blurry image of a face standing out against the grey stone of the ceiling. “How do you feel now?” The voice asks, no longer booming in your ears but still retaining a decidedly husky quality.

???????

MrEdwardNigma

Slipping out of another loop holding her to the pole, the woman shakes her head. “Not a mage, no. I am a monk of the White Wind Monastery . . . or was . . . in any case, I have certain skills that aid in attempting escape and crippling guards with or without a weapon. The guards got sick of it after a while, so they chained me up and threw me down into the third level. My name is Cassandra, but since my sisters at the Monastery have likely stripped me of even that, you may call me whatever you like.”

For a moment Cassandra hangs her head with a sorrowful frown, but shakes her head after a moment and turns back to the matter at hand: escape. While she continues to slip free from the pole, you start surveying what you have to work with. The zombie bodies are completely unusable, but you do note from the remains that they had been made fairly recently, and all of them were former prisoners judging by their tattered garb.

Looking down at the still glowing runes that form the body of the thaumaturgic circle, you manage to make out a few of the runes’ meanings: “life energy”; “corrupt”; “awaken”; “death without end”. Judging from this and the stiffness associated with the zombies’ first actions upon getting up, you theorize that it was indeed the circle that animated the corpses. This also leads you back to one of your memories from your first year of alchemical practice.

During that time, while researching means to bring back the dead, you stumbled upon a historical entry regarding one of the first means to awaken the dead. Ancient shamans would draw a thaumaturgic circle underneath the corpse to be animated, and then activate its magic. The weak necromancy of the circle would feed the corpse with enough magical energy to animate, but not enough to permanently reawaken: as soon as the zombie left the confines of the circle, it was change back into a lifeless corpse. The impracticality of using such a method limited its use greatly, and arcane studies into the matter went a different route after.

Covering the entire floor of the room, the circle now underneath you could be some sort of modern version of just such a circle. It would explain the zombies’ behavior, at least, and also suggests a rather frightening thought: after the zombies had finished with you, there would have been another two fresh corpses in this room, which the circle would then have obligatorily turned into zombies as well.

Still, the inefficiency of this method of zombie creation irritated you, and still didn’t explain why the cultists didn’t want permanent zombies. While certainly good for killing a couple of bound prisoners, the zombies were useless outside of this room and likely would revert into being just corpses as soon as the thaumatergic circle was deactivated. The only advantage to doing things this way was that the zombies didn’t consume magical energy beyond what was necessary to kill the prisoners and convert them into zombies as well . . . wait!

Turning back to where you had seen the “life energy” rune, you carefully examine the runes immediately next to them. Although beyond your ability to understand, having focused more on alchemy than on arcane mumbo-jumbo like thaumaturgy, you think that the rune directly in front of “life energy” is “siphon”. So, “something siphon life energy something something corrupt something awaken death without end”.

Although unable to make out any more, a new theory snaps into being inside your head upon this latest discovery. The circle was also there to absorb life energy, not just grant life to decaying corpses! No doubt upon your deaths, the circle would collect your remaining life energy in the same act as converting your bodies into zombies. But what does it then do with that energy, and why in such an inefficient manner? You knew more than one way to drain the life energy from a body, and they all involved starting with a perfectly healthy individual rather than one on the very brink of death, having been eaten by zombies.

Before you can ponder this further, the voice of Cassandra breaks into your thoughts. “Umm . . . do you think you could give me a hand here? There’s only two loops holding me to the pole now, and I’d rather not fall flat on my face when I slip out of both of them. If you’re not busy, that is – I know how to break a fall. But then I probably will need some help, because the rest of this rope is tight. Seriously, I think I’m starting to lose circulation to the rest of my legs here: how did you slip out so easily?”

WhiteKnight777

At your insightful comment, Helion’s mouth drops slightly, snaps shut, then drops again. Although silent for a moment, he then throws back his head and laughs, cackling maniacally before turning back to you.

“Oh, well done Lord Umber. You have indeed found a contradiction in my words. Perhaps we should say that Mellita then is less a hostage and more of a gift? A gift I would prefer back, of course, but with no expectation that I will. A sign of trust between us, as I certainly wouldn’t grant such a beautiful servant to someone I was planning to immediately betray, hmm? And I’m sure that Mellita has all sorts of secrets about me you could beat out of her, so I would be a fool to place such a weapon in your hands and immediately give you cause to use it against me. I do not know what more assurances I could give you Lord Umber, besides traveling with you myself. Unfortunately, I am needed elsewhere, to divert attention away from you and Mellita. Hopefully not everyone has learned of my treachery yet, and perhaps I can even pin the blame on one of the other Ancients. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Giving you one last toothy smile, Helion bows before turning away. “And now I shall take my leave of you, Lord Umber. With any luck, we shall meet again outside the confines of this prison, and can discuss how best to split your money up. Ta-ta!” Helion pauses a moment to give Mellita a kiss on the cheek and another grope-heavy hug, and then strides off behind a stalactite and is gone.

Wiping at her face one last time, Mellita turns back to you. “Of course, Lo – Master. I am rested enough now to continue.”

The work of another few minutes of constant casting, Mellita’s spells finally shatter the last chain holding you prisoner, leaving you free at last. Regrettably, this does not include the silver manacles encircling each of your wrists, a few links of silver chain dangling from each. Still, such things should not slow you down, but the feel of any silver against your body was aggravating.

Torture Chambers

Dorizzit/rubakhin

Your destination determined, the two of you set out, the hounds and tiger following. The Minotaur, meanwhile, is left behind as an unpleasant gift for the guards to deal with when they try to reclaim the room. It seems likely that peace returning to this section of the Torture Chambers won’t be much longer, as even now much of the hubbub in the surrounding rooms as died down. Screams haven’t yet replaced the shouts of alarm and sounds of struggle previously coming from the nearby rooms, but it seems inevitable that the guards will move fresh prisoners in soon enough.

Crossing over into the next room from Dima’s and one room further away from Korram’s, you find it thankfully empty. As one of the nearest rooms, it had been the epicenter of the vermin swarm Dima had unleashed. Countless smashed carcasses of spiders litter the floor as well as more than one crushed snake, all of them already crumbling away back into dust.

A bruised body, strapped into the rack that took up most of the room’s floor space, confirmed that the vermin had been indiscriminate about who they killed. With most of his exposed skin covered in purple bumps from the venom, the man looked more like a grape than a person. He unquestionably died in agony, his skin a mass of fire from the venom before it finally reached his heart and his brain.

Several of his straps also looked partially chewed through: no doubt the work of the rats Dima had also sent out. Several crumbling rat corpses also litter the ground, most of them clustered around the rack itself. It seems likely that the guards here had seen the rats and started smashing them with their clubs. Rat courage being what it was, the surviving rats had fled for less well-guarded prisoners, and then the vermin swarm arrived to sweep guard and prisoner away.

Nonetheless, for the moment the room is deserted, the guards evidently having fled before the might of the vermin swarm. Skirting around the still smoldering coals of a knocked-over brazier, your little band quietly moves over to the doorway opening into the next room.

Here you find a bit of a surprise: the space directly across from your doorway is solid wall, rather than a doorway opening into another room. An open doorway stands off to your left upon entering the room however, so that there are two entrances. Unless this is some sort of perverse deception on the part of the guards, you seem to have found a corner room.

You have no idea where exactly the door leading out of this place is, the guards frequently moving prisoners about the central rooms in a random fashion to promote just such confusion. But finding a corner room is potentially a good sign, as it at least will provide a boundary to your search.

There is, however, one problem with moving into this new unusual room. Just as one of you is about to step into the room, you notice two guards standing in the shadows along the wall to your right. Again this is a surprise, as you suddenly notice that this corner room is completely empty: no torture devices, no cells for holding prisoners.

Why are the two guards standing back in the shadows of the right wall? They do not appear to have noticed you, as guards rarely attempt stealth when apprehending fleeing prisoners. Their attention also seems to be on each other as they carry on some sort of whispered conversation that you can’t make out from the doorway.

Squinting, it is then that you manage to make out the outlines of a doorway in the wall behind the two guards. Made out of the same stone as the surrounding wall, the door is not perfectly concealed, but between its similar coloration and the shadows it is likely someone hurrying through the room would fail to notice it.

The theory that behind the guards is a door, presumably leading into a room beyond, is confirmed as faint muffled shouts of anger reach your ears from the direction of the hidden door. Hearing this as well, the two guards standing watch at the doorway stop their conversation, one elbowing the other with an evil grin.

The Labs

Iethloc

You reply to the guard’s inquiry with a call that all things are A-OK on your side, utterly amused at this situation. As the various bars holding the door shut are removed, you renew your control over the assistant’s body, driving his mind into the furthest corners of “your” brain.

Laugh while you can, freak. It’ll make your defeat on the other side of this door all the more refreshing.

Then the door slides open, and you greet the guard on the other side with an immediate burst of fire from your hands. Screaming, the man is propelled back through the air by the fiery blast, his charred corpse sliding to a halt several feet away from you.

The door swings the rest of the way open, allowing you to see the rest of the laboratory. Situated in the center of the room is a heavy wooden table surrounded by a variety of sharp implements: your bed while the Sages hacked your body apart to discover your secret. And at the head of this table is the accursed silver mirror, positioned so as to center the table in its reflection: enabling you to stare at your own reflection in hate as you watched what the Sages did to your feeble mortal body.

Standing close to this table are six guards, armed with a variety of restraints to slap on your human body once the silver mirror had torn you from the research assistant’s. All of them stared in silent shock at you and the charred corpse of their friend.

“Well, this is convenient. Now I can just destroy you both at once. Pity I won’t get to perform my final experiment though.” A voice calls from near the ceiling as an invisible force suddenly jerks “you” up off “your” feet and sends “you” flying into the room. Slammed into the floor, you skid to a halt just shy of the area reflected by the mirror. Pain blossoms along your right hand for a moment, as it swings it view of the mirror and the ghostly shape of your body is torn from the real shape of the assistant’s hand.

Now flat on your back, however, you can see the yellow-robed form of the Sage, Gene, floating fifteen feet up, his head just grazing the ceiling of the room. “Drat, I missed it seems. Guards, move the mirror to cover where our “assistant” is. Now!”

[Voth]

Why not go back to the first spire? They'll never suspect that. But first, you need to kill these witnesses.

Always one for the bloodiest way aren't you?

Taking a moment to merge, Voth, in a tornado of claws and bloodshed, leaves the 3 members of the general staff torn limb from limb, blood pooling on the floor. After making sure they're dead, he rushes towards the Iron Door, while making sure he does not leave any tracks for the guards to follow, in hopes that it will lead to his salvation, or at least cause the pursing guards to split up.

[MrEdwardNigma]

((I don't think Victor would have any trouble with the deciphering of the runes and such. He didn't specifically focus on alchemy, you'll see his character sheet specifies he knows all about magic, as far as theory goes. The signs might be very obscure, but Victor should be able to figure them perfectly out if a scholar or mage could))

Crude, to say the least. I'm sure this has some deeper purpose, but it seems there's lots of better ways to do this. Still, I should look into it. I don't appreciate them doing this the magical way, it's sort of half-assed doing this through magic, anyone can do it that way, and it hardly teaches you anything, but fellow necromancers are still appreciated. Them trying to kill me less so, seems they need to be taught by the master...

His train of thought was interrupted by the girl. A monk? So basically she could do what he could do, but less, and she was less good at it as well?
Well, help was still usefull, and keeping her as his companion was a good way to keep her with him without having her body rot. He could zombify her once they got out of there. He suddenly noticed she asked him something.

"How did I slip?"
Victor bended his arm backward.
"I'm a flexible person. Here, let me help you"
He helped untie her.
"Don't I scare you?" he asked, still in the process of untying her. ((She has seen me, right?))

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

Grunting in pain, Sohssal jerked his hand away from the hated mirror, and quickly threw himself away from it. "Oh, things are going to go very differently than you seem to think!" Sohssal informed Gene. As quickly as he could, he began weaving his old, powerful spell again. Ohhh, this would be a bad time for my counterpart to take control! Sohssal thought to himself. Soon, the blue lights danced around him again, and he took this moment to get closer to the mirror, doing his best to stay away from the reflective side. Then the dome of force burst into being again, splintering the table and slamming into the mirror, shattering the blasted thing and sending the shards flying away, as well as knocking the nearby guards painfully to the ground.

"I'm back in control, Sage! You know, it's been a while since I've had a nice battle of magic. But I'm sure the magical energy you'd release upon your death will be a feast worthy of, well...me! So I'm afraid I'll just have to kill you here and now!" Sohssal informed Gene. Then his mind began going over his most powerful fire spell. Fire began dancing around his form as he readied himself to use a large amount of energy. He began stepping away from the Sage, and, as he finished it, quickly turned his head away and closed his eyes. Meanwhile, around the Sage, a bright light came into being, and then everything seemed to conflagrate as the air around him violently combusted. Sohssal took cover as little balls of fire rained down in the labs as he grinned maniacally. That took a lot out of me...it had better have done SOMETHING... he thought to himself.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber
Umber gave a wicked smile as the young vampire left. He wondered, for a moment, just how clever - and how treacherous - he was. Though at the moment, it mattered little. There was so much to do, and so very little time. With a grunt of effort, he reached down,pulling his shattered leg down, then forcing it back into place. He could feel it reknitting itself, and after a few moment, he rose, testing it, wincing a little at the pain. He was healing, but more slowly than normal - the small amount of blood used to revive him had not done wonders, and he was still weak - weak enough that he could not break free of the chains, at least, not yet... for that he would need a bit more blood. He was hesitant to drain his only asset for strength... not until he was in a true emergency. He looked at Milletia, giving her a grin as he tested his new leg, walking over to her, his motions fluid and easy, though his leg twinged with each step, the newly-grown bone and repaired flesh still tender. He refused to let it show, though. Pain was to be endured... he moved close to her, looking her up and down with a lingering gaze... he moved about her, then leaned in, brushing his lips accross her neck-

and planted a single soft kiss. Still grinning, he stepped back, speaking in a low, soft voice. Ah, there's no need to call me Master, my dear... I grew out of the need for such aggrandizements a long, long time ago. You may call me Umber, or Lord Umber if you wish. I'm certainly arrogant enough without others feeding the flame. He chuckled at that, a low, rich sound, and began to head up the passageway, beckoning her to follow, speaking as he walked along, getting a feel for his new-grown body.

So, now we must find a way out of here. May I assume you know the quickest way to depart from this dank and dreary dungeon? If my suspicions are correct, said path will involve climbing up through the rest of the prison. Not that I mind... I'm a bit peckish, and I have quite a bit of pent-up aggression that could use some venting A smile flickered accross his lips Not to mention the fact that a mass jailbreak would prove most amusing, as well as a delightful cover for my own exit. There's also no telling what delicious creatures are stored in the lower levels - some rare and potent vitae would be most excellent for building my strength in case I should be so fortunate as to run into one of the Four. His grin widened, displaying his fangs as he strode on in the darkness, his eyes adjusting easily now that his strength was flowing back And unlike them, I don't need the passage of years to build my power...

Gods but it felt good to move again! he'd missed this - the feel of a body, the sensations on his skin - the rich scents on the night wind, the feel of supple flesh, the taste of good food and wine - and, of course, most of all the sweet red nectar. There was nothing like it. Well, almost nothing, he thought with a mental snicker. Oh, but this was going to be fun

[Engineer]

Amraf walks over to the spider and kneels. He touches a leg, and then pick it up. He pokes the leg into the strange saliva and sees what happens while calling back to Desot, "Perhpapth it will be able toh goh through my cohllar? Yuh seemed to be okayhhh after it touthed you..

[Dorizzit]

Korram grimly looks upon the guards. He motions to Dima to stand back. Not bothering to undo the suppression on his arm, he slowly sneaks towards the guards, utterly soundless as he pads across the ground. Reaching the guards, he reaches slowly towards one, and then in a lightning fast movement snaps his neck backwards. Ducking a surprised roundhouse by his other opponent, he responds with a quick punch to the stomach, followed by a tight, clean kick to the groin. Dodging past the Guard, he wrenches the man's arm painfully behind his back and claps a hand over his mouth. "Listen very, very carefully. I am going to remove my hand from your mouth and ask you a few questions. If you try to call out for help, I will kill you. Now that we understand each other, here are my questions. One: what's behind this door? Two: why are you here? Three: which way is prisoner processing from here?"

[Pwenet]

Incom & Harvey

“This’ll just take a couple more minut”

Time pauses for Incom as he hears the threats that the crazy demon cultist was saying to the young lady.

Zombies

An image flashes through his mind, that of the zombified priest chewing on the inner parts of the young boy as he screamed in agony. The zombified creatures that once were his parents shambling around, looking for food.

Zombies

Fists clench, muscles tightening, digging into the chains that he wrapped around his arms, the metal groaning under the strain as scales started to form around the burned flesh.

Oh yes! It looks like we found the source for some of those zombies there. Does that not make you mad.

“es! Promi”

Barely thinking, Incom leaps up and across the chamber from where he was standing, one arm whipping forward as he comes in for a landing.

“se! AHHHHH”

The additional “AHHHHH” sound comes from Incom landing next to the culstist with the knife, swinging his arm down with enough force to pulverize the forearm, sending it upwards at a sickening angle. The knife falls to the table, cutting a thin line on the victims face.

Bracing himself, Incom grabs the throat of the cultist and throws him at several of his companions. Gesturing with his other hand, he creates and launches a massive fireball at the fallen group. Seeing that they are momentarily distracted, he looks over at the victim and smiles a sick smile.

”You want help. Promise to kill me and I’ll help you live!”

[ubersquid]

The abominable grimace that closes in on Dwiggs suddenly freezes with a metallic bang and the Zombies arms grow limp as Elkwin drags out his shovel from it's head again, allowing the Dwarf to push it aside.

There are only two guards in front of them, and they are already dead. With three Zombies left, there is one dead body missing to provide a slight delay for their approach.

As Elkwin does not want to fill that position, he swings around and pushes the shovel into the foremost Zombies chest. The blade goes in easy at first but finds some bones at last. Shoving as hard as he can and leaning himself against the other end of the shovel with his full weight, he manages to push it back down the tunnel, while the Zombie hisses and screams at him and flails it's arms at the grip of the shovel.

Finally they hit some resistance in the form of another Zombie who is in the middle of devouring one of the guards. With a roar, Elkwin lets go of the shovel as the two Zombies stumble over each other, leaving a pile of rotten flesh.

Now, while the two Zombies try to get up from the ground again and the topmost still struggling with the shovel in it's chest, Elkwin hurries back as fast as the shackles around his ankles allow.

"The pick!" He shouts towards Dwiggs, signing him that it was his turn to get freed now. Not being the proficient miner like he was though, he was sure he wouldn't hit the chain with the first swing, but at least he bought them some time now.

[Gnomish Wanderer]

Breathing a bit heavily, Desot stood up and picked up the lantern. He felt as though blood were flowing through him again, for the first time in ages. He smiled and closed his eyes, just letting memories flood him.

Shaking his head Desot turned to his emcumbranced friend. "Okay would be a good way to describe it. Just stings a bit, is all." He felt his cheek, the reddened spot still buzzing. Pain was already familiar, being trapped here, but this was different. This was being alive. "I'm starting to think that spider may not be all that useless..." he said, looking at the damaged shovel.

Spoiler

Show

I want to try to not only remove the bit with the acid but also sharpen the shovel, maybe to blade-like, just more for rememberance purposes than actual use.

[Inspectre]

The Spires: Key Storage

Voth

Although the room you are currently in is fairly well lit due to the need for precision cutting, it’s not quite enough to stop you in your current enraged state. Forcing Shadow to merge with you, you can feel your exposed skin start to actually burn where the bright light falls on it, but you press on and complete the transformation anyway. This wouldn’t take long. Snapping the neck of the man underneath you, you quickly push off from the ground in a powerful leap towards the other two staffers.

Originally sitting at one of the benches around the worktable, the woman doesn’t have enough time to move out of the way as you bounce into her. In one smooth motion, you drive her face into the worktable with one hand, while savagely wrenching her left arm back and away from her body, pulling until it flies free in a shower of blood and an agonized scream. Realizing that speed was of the essence, you follow this attack up by grabbing her head with both hands and twisting, shattering the woman’s neck badly enough to twist it most of the way around so that she was now looking directly behind her: right into your eyes. There is a few seconds of horror as the woman witnesses her own death through your eyes, and then the light fades from her eyes completely.

Looking up from the woman’s body to locate the third staffer, you are shocked to find a lantern suddenly heading your way. Your impressive reflexes kick in, and instinctively one of your claws flashes out, swatting the lantern away before it could impact against your torso. Unfortunately, this had a cost, as one of your claws smashes through the glass pane of the lantern, splashing a fair quantity of still-burning oil onto your right hand as the ruin of the lantern is deflected to the ground.

The pain of this is fairly excruciating, but probably not quite as much as the pain the man feels a second later when you dash over and plunge your still-burning claw into his innards. This manages to extinguish the last of the flames clinging to your hand, although you can tell that even with your quick action your hand has still be somewhat burned.

There was no time for anything else, however, as you heard behind you the first guard thundering down the steps leading down to this room. Dashing over to the iron door as you left the man slowly dying on the floor, you hear a shout of alarm from the stairway just as you pull the door open. As expected, beyond the door is an iron tunnel, leading back in the direction you came from.

Ducking inside, you inwardly cringe as a crossbow bolt rasps against the heavy iron door a few inches from your head, glancing off the metal to shoot itself into a nearby wooden stool. You hear more guard storming into the room behind you as you slam the iron door shut, but are unable to find anything to bar it with, even for an instant.

Taking off down the hallway, you can only hope the guards don’t reach the doorway in time to pull it open for another couple potshots from their crossbows as you rush down the tunnel to the door on the far side. You aren’t quite so lucky, hearing the door behind you slam open and angry shouts when you are about halfway across the tunnel.

The Mines

gnome_4ever/Engineer

(Note that Desot got hit with a drop of blood, and not saliva. There is definitely a remarkable difference in acidic strength between the two of them.)

Carefully breaking off one of the spider’s legs, Amraf dips the tip of it into the hissing pool of saliva starting to form around the spider’s mouth. The clearly acidic saliva doesn’t seem to harm the leg, confirming that these creatures are seemingly not hurt by their own acidic blood and saliva.

Handing the glistening tip of the spider leg to Desot, Amraf lowers his head and allows his human friend to go to work. Between the acid and the razor properties of the spider leg, the leather straps holding Amraf’s muzzle in place quickly fall apart, allowing him to finally spit that accursed bit out from between his teeth.

While the little man gingerly works his jaws, Desot sets the spider leg aside and carefully attempts to use the spider saliva to sharpen the edge of his shovel. Although it takes a bit of work, a few minutes later Desot can tell that the edge of the shovel shines in the lantern light in a way that it did not previously.

Now returning to efforts to free themselves, Desot dips the spider leg in the creature’s saliva again, carefully scrapping the glistening tip across the collar around Amraf’s neck. The results are somewhat disappointing: although the acid does eat a line down through the collar, it quickly becomes clear that the hardened metal will need several applications of the acid to be completely broken through.

Such a thing proves to have its dangers, however, as one drop of the saliva rolls down off the collar and onto Amraf’s neck. Although somewhat weaker after having eaten through some of the metal collar, Amraf still winces in pain as the acid eats into his skin, leaving an angry red mark across the back of his neck. It is likely that another two applications might eat through Amraf’s collar completely, and although care will obviously be taken, his neck is still likely to sustain further injury from stray acid droplets due to the poor quality of tools you have and the collar’s proximity to Amraf’s neck.

Warshrike/ubersquid

Once again Elkwin proves in proficiency in combating zombies, coming to Dwiggs’s rescue with a shovel to the back of the zombie’s head. Although its blade was quite dull to prevent exactly this from happening, the zombie’s decayed flesh did not provide enough resistance against the shovel to prevent it from smashing through its skull and into its vulnerable brain.

The dwarf grunts a thanks, but it’s clear that this is far from over yet as the remaining zombies approaching from the front close in with the prisoners. Shouting, Elkwin tears his shovel out of the zombie’s brainpan and jabs it into the chest of another zombie, pushing it backwards despite its considerably protests. The zombie careens backwards into another zombie, leaving the two of them in a moaning heap as Elkwin moves to return to the other prisoners.

Shouting for Dwiggs’s to surrender his tool, Elkwin quickly takes the pick in hand, preparing to strike a blow that will hopefully free him from the slave chain. Before he can, however, a sudden weight crashes into him from behind, driving him into the tunnel wall.

“Brains!” A voice grates in his ear, warm blood spraying onto the side of his face as the zombie hisses in victory. With a start, you recognize this zombie as the first, the one who had killed the guard and started this whole mess. Was he done with his guard victim already? Couldn’t be – it had only been a minute at most since the first guard went down, and zombies usually took awhile to gnaw their on their victims’ skulls. Which meant what? This zombie had finished early to come attack Elkwin? Why, to stop him from helping the others escape? This would most unusual zombie behavior if so.

But, such questions were for another time, as Elkwin heard the zombie gurgle in triumph, lowering its jaws in preparation of clamping down on his shoulder.

???????

MrEdwardNigma

(These runes are quite strange, either being exceptionally archaic or twisted versions of runes that you do recognize. With your studies, you’ve been able to puzzle out the meanings behind the runes that I gave you in the previous DM. The others . . . you’ll probably have to find the guy who made them or find an expert on ancient/modifying runes to figure out – and good luck finding either.

Also, you are either in pitch blackness, tied to a pole opposite her, or across the room . . . until now. Now, she gets a good look at your face. )

“That’s . . . that’s quite impressive . . . how did you - ” Cassandra asks, blinking in surprise as you demonstrate the full range of your arm’s flexibility, still approaching her.

“I noticed you looking at this circle thing on the floor. Any idea what’s it for, other than magic obviously?” Cassandra asked, turning her gaze down to the floor as you close the remaining distance.

You quickly manage to work the remaining loops free, carefully lowering her to the floor before attacking the knots around her legs and arms. As you pick at the unbelievably tight knots, you realize that the rest of Cassandra’s restraints will still likely prove a problem. The straps around her legs you could probably remove without difficulty, but the manacles locked around her wrists and ankles would probably be staying unless you could figure out a way to break the chains or pick the locks.

Managing to work the last of the knots undone at her legs, you turn your attention to the rope pinning her arms. As you do so, Cassandra cranes her neck around, getting a good look at your face at last.

“So, I told you my name! What’s . . . yours . . .” For a moment, Cassandra falls silent, eyes widening as they trace the contours of the stitching running across your face and throat. Then she turns her gaze away, returning to looking down at the floor while you continue your work. A moment later, she softly speaks, a note of tenderness creeping into her voice. “I’m sure you, ah, don’t want to talk about it. But . . . your face . . . did the guards experiment on you?”

WhiteKnight777

With Helion gone along with the rest of your chains, you were now free to finally start making your escape for real. Twisting your broken left leg around, you expertly reset the bone, grateful that undeath had greatly dulled your sense of pain. Still, you have some sensation; the unpleasant feeling of bone slipping against bone, the throb of torn muscles. But it is replaced by the not entirely unpleasant feeling of your body rapidly healing itself, and you nod in satisfaction as a few moments later your leg feels good enough to stand on.

Pushing yourself up, you quickly realize in your first several steps in a long time that for some time or until you found a source of blood, you would be walking with a slight limp. Clearly, even without the signals of pain clouding your brain, your stride was just so slightly thrown off as your muscles struggled to reattach themselves to the renewed bone.

If Mellita noticed, she gave no sign, and you knew anyone else you met wouldn’t likely have enough time to notice. Head bowed slightly, Mellita watches her approach carefully, wincing slightly as you close in to kiss her neck. Her relief is almost palpable as you pull away with a chuckle and a correction. She nods her head, and responds with a note of her previous levity. “Yes, Ma – Lord Umber!”

Following along behind you at a respectful distance, Mellita shortly points out a tunnel leading out of the cavern, half-hidden behind a group of stalactites. “I was told by Master to escort you through these lower caverns to a secret tunnel exit out of Ironheart. Although fighting our way up through the fortress might be . . . fun . . . it would be considerably dangerous. Of course, Master wasn’t able to provide me with a map, but he says his consultation with his sources revealed the existence of this secret exit. I have, however, been led through this section of tunnels before by Master, so I should be able to lead us to the unknown area fairly quickly. Master’s plan is to go back and disrupt any patrols going through these tunnels to leave us as clear a path as possible without arousing suspicion. So, finding this secret exit may take some time due to my ignorance as to its exact location, but it will almost certainly be safer than traveling up. I am, however, your . . . hostage . . . so you can decide which way we go. I’ve spent most of my time down in these lower tunnels, not venturing too close to the surface for obvious reasons, but I believe with a bit of effort we could find a tunnel leading up into the fortress instead of the path leading to the secret exit.”

Torture Chambers

Dorizzit/rubakhin

Moving swiftly but silently, Korram swings out from the cover of the doorway to assault the guards. Caught by surprise as he strikes from the shadows, the first guard is down before they’re even aware that they’re under attack, softly gurgling out his last breaths through his broken neck.

Dodging the instinctive blow from the second guard, you quickly subdue him as well. Even helpless, the guard glares at you with hatred, but is not quite courageous enough to ignore Korram’s threat.

“Private torture chambers. We’re the doormen. And it’s up from here – figure out your own way up scum!”

Before Korram is able to respond to the guard’s information, he hears voices from beyond the stone door again. Now much closer, he is able to make out what is going on in the room beyond with much greater detail.

First, there is a sharp feminine cry: a scream that cuts out into a soft constant moan as the pain becomes too great to even give voice to. Then a harsh commanding voice that Korram had only heard once before in his entire time at Ironheart, but still turned his blood cold: the voice of Captain Delran, captain of all the guards at Ironheart and the Warden’s right-hand man. The one time Korram had met the good Captain, it had been shortly after his arrival in Ironheart.

Equipped with a short sword and thrust into the man’s office, Korram barely had time to react before the Captain was on him. With his fire arm sealed by the glove and caught by surprise, Korram stood no chance as the good captain tore into him. Dressed in black plate mail, the Captain was a slightly unusual sight as one muscular arm stood completely bare while the other was covered by plate mail and ended with a gauntlet that was equipped with razor-sharp fingertips.

It was this gauntleted fist that the Captain used to pummel Korram, hammering him into the ground with the iron-shod knuckles, slicing shallow cuts all over his body from the razor fingertips, and even picking up by throat at several points, laughing as the fingertips slowly cut deeper into his throat and his vision began to grow dim. Finally, Korram was allowed to collapse into unconsciousness as the Captain bodily slammed him into the ground one last time with a snort of disgust. It took months for Korram’s crippled body to recover from the beating he had received, and he even received a month’s reprieve from the Torture Chambers out of fear that further injury would kill him.

A cold fear began to coil up in Korram’s stomach as he heard that same voice addressing some other hapless prisoner from the other side of the door. “Hurts, doesn’t it? You’ll be happy to know that although we’ve been instructed not to permanently damage you, we have all sorts of ways to inflict pain that wouldn’t leave a single mark on your lovely body. No one is going to come for you – no one even knows that you’re here. So we have all the time we need to break you in. This can take as long as you want, all you have to do is agree to submit and we’ll let you go. That’s why you’re here, you know, refusing his advances. So why don’t you just be a good little wench and agree to his proposal? Who knows, he might not even hurt you as much as we are now!”

Korram can barely hear a soft voice, shrill with pain, shriek back, “I’ll tear out the little twerp’s throat in his sleep before he gets to lay a hand on me!”

This is immediately followed by the loud slap of skin meeting skin, and a dry chuckle from the Captain. “Well, there you go, making me break my word. Oh well, a few marks here and there will heal, and the Baron is aware some damage might occur. We’ll see how determined you are after a couple more hours hanging like that. In fact, while I’m gone I think the boys have another little something to give you to keep your entertained. See she’s perfectly uncomfortable, you two.”

With that, Korram hears the faint footsteps of the Captain as he stomps away from the door.

The Labs

Iethloc

The research assistant is surprisingly quiet inside your mind as you begin weaving your first spell of the battle. Summoning the dome of force again, you watch as it expands outward rapidly, splintering the wooden table and shattering the hated mirror into a hundred shards that go flying about the room. One unlucky guard happens to be standing in the way of several said shards, and fist-sized shards of the mirror embed themselves in his neck and chest, killing him instantly.

The others are simply slammed back against the wall, momentarily stunned but not defeated quite yet. You would have to deal with them, later, however, as without the mirror they were a secondary threat at best. No, your next target with the mirror gone would be the Sage.

Looking up at the floating form of Gene, you begin to weave your next spell, summoning a massive blast of fire into being all around the mage. You see a bright flash from Gene’s location, and then the ceiling erupts into flame, small balls of fire tumbling back down to earth from the explosion.

As the last of the fire clears, however, you can see Gene still floating above you, virtually untouched. “Ugh . . . is that the best you have left . . . in you Sohssal? I was expecting . . . a bit more . . . effort . . . this being your final fight!” The strain in his voice as he shouts down taunts at you, however, suggests that he did not quite weather that attack as unscathed as his physical appearance would have you believe.

But you have other concerns, as you notice with a loud clatter a great many of the mirror shards lift off of the floor all around the room. Floating up into the air at various heights ranging from ankle to eye height, the mirror shards fill you with a great sense of unease. Although the broken reflections of “you” in them could not tear you out of the research assistant’s body, they would still affect “your” body in much the same way’s as the guard if they slammed into you. And that seemed to be Gene’s exact plan.

“Burn in Hell, demon mage!” Gene screams, as suddenly all of the mirror shards hovering about the room shoot towards you from all directions.

Ritual Chambers

Pwenet

Simultaneously, both the cultist leader and victim scream out in terror and pain as you cover the distance to them in a single leap. Upon landing, you smash the cultist leader’s arm effortlessly, although this does have the unfortunately side effect of knocking the sacrificial knife up into the girl’s face, slicing an angry red line across her left cheek.

Bodily picking up the cultist leader, who’s by now girlish screams of pain had drowned out the girl’s shrieks, you send him tumbling into the mass of the other cultists. You nearly manage to send all of them tumbling into the fire that they had been dancing around, and suddenly realizing that was a good idea, summon a blast of fire where they are standing.

Instantly, the bonfire in the middle of them explodes into a plume of smoke, the remaining wood all being entirely consumed at once and leaving only the dim light provided by the embers. Several such cultists solve the lighting problem nicely however as they are caught in the blast, their cloaks catching on fire from the intense heat.

Rolling around on the ground, the three of them scream in pain as they attempt to snuff out the flames. Surprisingly though, they still seem relatively fine for a fireball exploding in their midst, as do the others who had not been caught directly in the blast. One such unaffected member is the leader, who manages to shriek at you, “What is your problem!? We never bothered you, dragon-lover!”

“Guy’s a cultist!” One of the untouched cultists shouted, earning a slap from his buddy. “No, we’re all cultists dude. That’s really not an insult.”
“No man! I mean he’s a cultist, like, he thinks one cult is better than all the others and irrationally hates them and thinks all other cults are inferior!”
“Oh. Um . . yeah, he’s a cultist alright. Dirty cultist! Take your scaly butt back over to your side of the ritual chambers!”
“Yeah!”

Ignoring them for the moment as they continued to throw insults at you, you turn to the girl. The angry red line starting to become an angry red bar as blood starts to well up, the girl looks at you with a mixture of stark terror and desperate hope. Eyes somehow managing to grow even wider than previously at your demand, she hastily nods her head. “Ok! Ok! Whatever you say! I don’t want my soul to be eaten by demons!”

Apparently hearing this last comment, the cultist leader shakes his head. “Well too bad, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen! Bruto, throw this bum out!”

A sudden shadow falls across you as something massive descends from the darkness of the ceiling above. Looking up, you see to your surprise it is a stereotypical demon, with sharp teeth, ram horns, leathery bat wings, and a muscular physique. Swooping down on top of you, the demon boots you in the jaw with both feet, sending you flying away from the girl and into the nearby wall.

I hate demons. Harvey adds unhelpfully as “Bruto” lands and stands stomping towards you.

“I’m the bouncer here, bub. And you just made yourself very unwelcome at this here sacrifice.”

Stupid demons. Guy will probably be immune to fire. Seems like the cultists are pretty resistant as well – I imagine investing in fire-resistant clothing is a plus when you’re working with demons all the time.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber pauses for a moment, carefully considering the options. On one hand, this "secret exit" very well may be a trap. And he was hungering for the blood and souls of his enemies, most of whom would likely be found in the fortress... however, there was no doubt he was still weak. If he could escape from here, regain his strength, and return... Oh, the havoc he could wreak at his full power! The thought of the red ruin he would bring here put a shudder of pleasure down his spine. And, if escape via this secret exit proved impossible, his original plan was always an option. At last he nodded, gesturing for Mellitia to walk beside him.

Not, at the moment, though it pains me your plan is the more prudent one. We will move will all possible stealth and alacrity to this secret exit. Once I get out of this hole, I will pay off your master, and take stock of my options from there... you will, of course, have to guide me.

Umber moved on, as fast as his slight limp would allow, his ageless body untiring. He could feel his predator's senses sharpening again as he grew used to physical form once more.... ah, even down here, it was sweet to taste the still air, to see, to feel the rough, stone beneath his feet... yes, it was sweet indeed. He had sometimes forgotten the simple joys of existence. In that, perhaps, his long incarceration was a blessing: It showed him once more the joys of unlife. And, he thought with an evil grin, once of the principle joys was dancing. Specifically, dancing on the mangled corpses of one's enemies. As he walked along through the silent dark, he searched for a way to amuse himself.

I don't really know why you were so surprised at your master's behavior, My dear. Our kind, or rather, your kind, are not particularly given to bonds of sentiment.

[Dorizzit]

Korram snaps the other guard's neck. He waits for the cold, hard lump of fear in his chest to subside. Captain Delran... He shakes his head. Enough thinking along those lines... Korram stands. Looking at Dima, he notices his restraints seemingly for the first time. "Do you want me to remove those for you?" Assuming an answer in the affirmative, he removes the bindings on his arm before carefully breaking the cuffs on each end. He then does the same on the leg fetters. If answered in the negative, he merely shrugs. Regardless, he then turns towards the door to the private torture chamber and opens it.

[Warshrike]

Dwiggs

Stunned by the Zombie attack, Dwiggs is overly relieved when Elkwin comes to his rescue, but only reluctently hands over the pickaxe, only to see Elkwin alost immediatley tackled to the wall. Always a fan for an eye for an eye, Dwiggs thinks he owes Elkwin a neck, and so as fast as he can stands and rushes to the mans aid, grabbing another pickaxe from the ground where a prisoner had dropped it in fear.

Swinging sideways, Dwiggs rammed the pick through the beasts neck, in front of the spine. Then, using the curve of the tool, pulled the zombie off the man, yanking as hard as he could to break the zombies neck. As soon as the beast is a safe distance from Elkwin, he removes the pick and brings it down into the creatures head, using a blow he felt would split the strongest rock in half, let alone the rotting mockery of life before him.

[MrEdwardNigma]

"The guards?"
Victor laughs, a sound more like a man choking than a laugh, really.
"Yeah, the guards did this, sure"
He's silent for a while, as he removes all the restraints he can remove, preferring to keep them intact rather than rip them open.

"Do I, eh, scare you?"
He looks down at the floor. She hadn't screamed. A new sensation, surely. But he didn't have any illusions about her. She knew she needed him to get out of here, as soon as they'd be out, she'd no longer need him. But it was a two-way street. Death at Victor's hands lay waiting for her, and then life, again, only better. She thought he was disfigured, but he felt she was the disfigured one. After all, only one of them had been able to make it out of the ropes by himself.

"Think you can get these metal restraints off my hands? I think bashing them into the wall wouldn't be a very scientific method of getting them off. My name's Victor by the way. Victor von Ravenstein the Third"

"The circle is for animating the zombies. They're prisoners, like us, or so I think. We'd have become like them. They'd kill us, and the circle would suck the life out of us, draining it to god knows where. Not so bad a fate, if it weren't that I'm not through with living yet. There's greater things in store for me than mere zombification, rebirth. See, before we make our way out of here, our way up, we need to visit someone. And for that, we need to go down. But we won't be able to do either, until we get that door open. How about it, think you can pick the lock, or should we wait until those amateurs return?"

[Feralgeist]

the cold iron is gone, those fools fell for it!! Now i just ave to sit back and wait for my vision to clear...
Lamonts' eye opens, looking blearily at the figure. He raises one of his hands to brush hair from his face, but is stopped as it tugs against the iron binding him.
"Where.....where am i?....Who are you? oh no, the chimera!" he struggles to get upright, attempting to catch a glimpse of the room around him, before flopping back down onto whatever it is he's lying on.

"Oh..it's over. You're not sending me back yet are you?"

He asks, letting the fear creep into his voice

[Pwenet]

Incom & Harvey

I hate demons. Harvey adds unhelpfully as “Bruto” lands and stands stomping towards you.

“I’m the bouncer here, bub. And you just made yourself very unwelcome at this here sacrifice.”

Stupid demons. Guy will probably be immune to fire. Seems like the cultists are pretty resistant as well – I imagine investing in fire-resistant clothing is a plus when you’re working with demons all the time.

Pulling himself up from the ground with a groan, Incom forces himself not to look at the indent in the wall where he was thrown into. Cracking his back loudly as he watches “Bruto” approach, he smiles and starts laughing.

What is so funny?”

I just realized, I could end you now, all we need to do is let “Bruto” there have some quality time with us.

Now that is not funny. We are in serious danger here. That demon....

Right! WE are in serious danger, yourself included there. You think I care if I live or die.

But what about your revenge? On the Baron, on her?

So? Those two living I don't care as much like seeing you done on this realm. Oh look, it's time to giggle.

Unaware of the mental 'discussion' going on, “Bruto” simple does what he does best, which is expelling naughty guests from the chamber, usually in multiple pieces. For Incom this involves being grabbed by him, torn and yanked around and with a spray of blood, he flies one way, and his left arm flies another. Yet despite this aerial journey, Incom continues to laugh and giggle as he crashes into the ground. Looking at the stump of his arm in mild curiosity, he barks out a long laugh.

Oh look. We are missing some bits. I hope that you didn't need that.”

INCOM! YOU MUST PAY ATTENTION!

“Bruto” approaches, and kicks violently, sending Incom flying through the air as he feels several ribs move around freely, several of them driving into his guts.

This is what I was hoping, that we would find something that could kick us into the curb, but would not know any better to stop. Hope you enjoyed the stay in hostel Incom, please tip the bartender on your way out.

Feeling himself crash into the ground again, Incom barely feels the impact as his fragmented mind continues to cause him to laugh and giggle manically. “Bruto” approaches, the footsteps of doom, and Incom wonders what the other side is like.

Now is that the son we raised?

Blinking in shock, the first part of shock was that the blink was a mental blink, the second part was that the voice was the one of his father.

Yes, it's me. What did I teach you about giving your word. Look at that poor woman, LOOK AT HER!

Moving his eyes, Incom sees the woman, chained to the stone stable, fear in her eyes. The blood welling on her cheek stands in stark contrast to her pale skin.

You gave her your word you would get her out of here. What are you waiting for. GET UP!

Groaning in pain as he pushes up with his good arm, Incom wavers as “Bruto” approaches. Cracking his neck he looks down at his bleeding stump.

About time you got back up and willing to fight. What took you? Anyways, I think we should find your arm, I don't think that demon likes the taste of flesh but enjoys punching it, so we are safe in that regard.

Eyes flashing, Incom follows the trails of blood in the chamber and finds his severed arm laying on the ground, far away, and then focuses back on the approaching “Bruto”, who seems confident in a easy victory. Raising his fist, he swings, only for Incom to twist out of the way and return with his own punch, one that sends the demon stumbling back. Bracing itself for more attacks, the demon looks and sees Incom leaping for his severed arm.

I don't think I'll tell you, but let's say you are right, I have unfinished business with some others in this hellhole. Let's bag ourselves a demon, what do you say?

Sense Harvey happy smile, Incom lands and grabs his arm, and places the respective stumps onto each other. The agony of the bone, muscles and blood vessels merging and joining sends him to his knees, a primal scream emerging from his lips at “Bruto” approaches. Yet the pain is transitory, and it fades. Flexing his left hand, Incom smiles a sick smile and turns to look at “Bruto”.

”Demon! Look into my eyes and know fear!”

Face winkling at much as possible in confusion, “Bruto” looks at Incom, who smiles and opens his mouth wide, sending out waves of flames. While the demon may be immune to damage, having bright flames thrown into ones eyes causes varying degrees of disorientation and blindness. Stumbling back from Incom “Bruto” swaps at his face as Incom moves forward, shutting his mouth and launching a series of devastating blows against the face of the demon, snapping off one horn completely, and even blinding one eye before a lucky hit sends him flying away.

Fool. We got to fight smart. Look at your arms!”

Looking down, Incom sees several scales having grown during the fight, weaving their way into the chains that are wrapped around his forearms. An idea forms, and he grabs the loose end of the chain on his left forearm, and RIPS, tearing away burned flesh, chain, and razor sharp scales attached to the chains. Whipping the chains around, he swings and catches “Bruto” in the chest, opening up several deep wounds. Stepping back from the armed Incom, Incom does not wait for the demon to recover, but rather swings again, catching parts of the chair into the demon's arm, and leaps up and over “Bruto”.

Landing behind “Bruto” Incom twirls the chain and forms a loose noose and throws it over the head of “Bruto”, and pulls taunt. Being pulled by Incom, with the other end driven into “Bruto”arm, it yanks “Bruto”arm up towards his head violently, and more importantly, digs the scales deep into the thick neck of “Bruto”. Demonic blood starts to leak as Incom and Harvey both scream and pull tight, hoping to drive the scales deep into the neck of the demon and to kill it.

[Engineer]

Flexing his neck Amraf says "Excellent. My fee state is most complaisant. Perchance we should use some blood instead of saliva? This spider has been most useful."

[Iethloc]

*Sigh* Being immaterial would be SO useful right now... Sohssal thought. As the glass shards began hovering, he immediately began weaving a spell of his own. A gentle breeze wafted through the lab, quickly picking up speed as it roared around Sohssal. As the glass shards moved through the winds, they were thrown about and knocked off course, at least enough to not significantly wound Sohssal. He continued pouring energy into the spell, causing the winds to grow and intensify. Focusing on the spell, Sohssal forced the winds to pick up a myriad of nearby small items, including the glass shards and perhaps a guard or two. "Do I hear weariness in your voice? Is your age finally catching up to you? Thankfully, after I get rid of this body, I won't have to worry about such things!" Sohssal hissed as the winds surged towards him, carrying everything they could with them. Two draining spells in a row. Need to conserve my energy more... he reminded himself.

[Gnomish Wanderer]

Desot eyes the little man's neck carefully. "I know we need to get this off, but that looks like it stings a bit more than my face does. I guess we could try the blood, but at what cost?" He looks around again at the web-lined wall and tries to determine another entrance to this chamber than the one they used.