Escape from Ironheart (IC)

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

Hmmm...all right, it's a deal. Sohssal agreed mentally, looking at the defeated Sage upon the floor. He thought for a few moments, thinking about what his dying torturer could give him. All I want to know right now is the shortest way out of here. Let's finish him off and go... he concluded. Sohssal then grinned to himself mentally. I guess I'll let him leave. If that was the only reason he did this to me, maybe I could let him leave. If only so I can escape without having to vie for control of this...body... he thought out to himself, then shuttered mentally at the thought of staying in a physical body for even that much longer.

[rubakhin]

"Good lord, Korram, she's just had a panic attack, give her a moment," says Dima, setting her down on the back of the tiger. "Whenever you're ready, miss."

[Inspectre]

The Spires: Key Storage

Voth

Vowing to make the guards suffer for every drop of your blood that was lost, you look around for something to stop the bleeding, as well as a hiding place. Once the guards broke through your barrier in the outside hallway, it seemed likely that they would at least send one or two guards into this room to check it first.

Fortunately, there were a number of torches set into brackets along the wall at roughly eye level, and one is easily removed by you. Not having a lot of experience in cauterizing your own wounds, and lacking any other tools, you simply hold the lit torch against the wound and hope for the best. The flames lick at your torn flesh, searing the skin around the wound but also cauterizing the wound and stopping further loss of blood.

You are about to begin looking for a hiding spot where you could ambush any lone guards from, but suddenly you have other things on your mind as you hear footsteps ring off the catwalk above. A man in dark grey robes with red lining steps into view from around the giant jewel a moment later, clapping his hands in delight at the sight of you.

“Ah, excellent! Prisoner #16,514! I’ve heard so much about you from my brother and was most disappointed when you got assigned to his restraint project instead. But now here you are, just in time for a demonstration! Tell me, do you like magic?”

Before you can react, the man extends one hand, revealing the golden ring on his ring finger, into which was set a large red jewel similar to the one hanging in the middle of the room. As the jewel on the man’s finger began to glow, so too did the much larger version in the middle of the room. “Well, allow me to show you a magic trick! Abra-Kadabra!” The mage shouts, waving his hand at you and then clenching his fist.

A moment later, one of the thousand facets of the gem glowed brilliantly, and a reddish beam snaked out to envelop you. Instantly, you felt your muscles become rigid, leaving you standing paralyzed in the middle of the floor.

“And now for my next trick!” The mage cackles as he raises his clenched fist into the air. Following his direction, the beam lifts you several feet up into the air, still unable to move.

Adding to this unfortunate series of events, the door to the room suddenly bangs open, and guards pour into the room followed by the mage who had been dogging you ever since your escape. Surprisingly, he was not angry that he was not the one to bring you down. Instead, he grinned widely as he called to the other mage, “Well done brother! I see your method has grown refined enough not to tear this fool’s soul apart!”

“Oh, I can do that to, if I wish!” The new mage replied, twisting his hand slightly. Instantly, the brightness of the beam intensified, and it felt as if your entire body was on fire. You heard Shadow screaming within your mind, and although you wished that you could join him, your paralysis prevented you from even giving voice to this incredible pain. Then, the mage turns his hand back, and the pain disappears as the beam dims.

“But I think permanent incarceration for his soul would be a much better punishment. Let’s let the Judge decide how he should be punished. So without further ado, I think it is time to conclude this little show! Farewell Prisoner #16,514! Give the regards of the Volesin Brothers to the Judge when you see him!”

The mage makes a final elaborate gesture with his hand, and suddenly you are drawn in close to the jewel. Several more facets gleam, shooting out energy beams of their own that wash over you. Again, the incredible pain returns, and from the corner of your eye you watch in horror as your fingers, then your hands, and then your arms start to melt away into dust. Then the pain intensifies further still, and you lose consciousness.

********************

You awaken an indeterminable amount of time later. Your entire body slowly reports in as a series of dull aches throughout your body, but eventually even this fades to nothing. Pushing yourself up, you open your eyes to find yourself in a bizarre landscape. You are in a hallway, stretching out on either side of you for as far as your eye can see. The floors and ceiling are made out of a smooth red glass, although you find that the floor is not so smooth as to make walking on it difficult. The walls are made out of a similar substance, but instead of being flat and smooth, the walls on either side of you are extremely rocky. Rather than being a flat plane, the walls seem to be made out of an endless series of crystalline pillars running floor to ceiling and stacked perfectly next to each other. At the moment, there does not appear to be anything else of particular note in the hallway.

The Arena

Frozen

Sara is too far away to make out what exactly you mouth to her before replacing your mask, although she seems to get the gist of it as she looks away from you. Turning her head, she busies herself with a nearby patient; not looking at you the rest of the time you are in the room.

This amount of time happens to be sort, as no sooner have you replaced your mask, than the administrator steps aside and allows his four bodyguards to prop you out of the room. Three guards walking behind you with crossbows leveled at your back, the fourth leads you out of the room into a short hallway. This hallway appears to have only one other exit: an iron door at the far end. Going through this door, you find yourself back in the prisoner waiting room.

“There’s a match still going on right now. Let’s chain this guy up so he can make some new friends while he waits.” One of the guards grunts, and so your little band moves over to a nearby bench. The lead guard motions for you to sit, and then wraps a length of chain around your manacles and threads one end through a nearby iron ring bolted into the wooden bench. The chain is locked in place by a heavy iron padlock, and then the guards leave, apparently satisfied that you wouldn’t be able to escape. Fools. Of course, there were a number of armed guards patrolling throughout the room, quickly breaking up any altercations between chained prisoners.

“So, friend . . . what is your story?” A voice suddenly whispers from your left, and you turn to find a nearby prisoner addressing you. Deeply tan with an even darker beard and long ragged hair, a look common amongst the prisoners, the man stands out amongst a majority of the other prisoners who have become deathly pale from lack of sunlight. His brown eyes also set him apart from most other prisoners, for they seem to shine with vitality and perhaps even a bit of merriment.

“Of course, it would be rude to demand something from you without giving of myself first.” The prisoner begins with a chuckle, sliding down to be as close to you as the chain holding him to the bench would allow.

“I am known as Rawya, and several years ago I came to these lands from the Western Deserts. I am a poet and traveler by trade, but sadly even those peaceful pursuits were offensive to your Baron. Several months ago while passing through I was seized and brought here. But even in this dark pit of despair there is opportunity, and I have heard a great many interesting stories which I will be sure to record once I am free one day. Would it be possible for me to hear yours? There is certainly little else to do while counting out what may prove to be the final minutes of our lives.”

???????

MrEdwardNigma

Crawling down off the wall, you take Cassandra by the arm, careful not to cut her with your sharp fingertips. You fashion an extremely crude flail by attaching one of your gauntlets onto one end of the rope, and then leave the room behind, hopefully for good. Leading Cassandra on, you follow the hallway, moving away from the entry rooms you had passed through before.

As you moved further on down the hallway, you eyes noticed it gradually beginning to brighten by almost imperceptible increments. Shortly thereafter, a powerful stench assailed your nostrils, a noxious scent that seemed to be equal parts compost and rotting cadavers. You had learned to appreciate the aroma of a slowly decaying corpse, but this was different. There was a foulness about it that made even you gag.

Not really having any choice, both of you press on, and by the time the lighting in the room has become roughly equivalent to a moonless night rather than absolute darkness, you have arrived at the end of the hallway. Here, the hallway feeds into a wide circular room, at the center of which is a large pit.

Peering down into the pit reveals the source of the stench: an uncountable number of body parts in various conditions and states of decay are piled up into a mountain of body parts, the top of which is perhaps ten feet below the edge of the pit. Small patches of bioluminescent fungus are visible here and there on the bodies and walls of the pit, with a particularly bright patch marking the entrance to what appears to be some sort of tunnel leading from the floor of the pit to parts unknown.

“Are those what I think they are?” Cassandra asks, visibly looking ill after several minutes of exposure to the stench wafting up from the mountain of decomposing body parts and feasting fungus.

At equidistant points around the outside of the room are three additional hallways similar to the one you had just left, essentially marking out the four cardinal directions. Of course, you had no idea really this far underground which way exactly was true north, so from your perspective you had exited out into this room from the “south” hallway.

“Company!” Cassandra hissed, a moment before a trio of zombies, each pushing a small cart loaded with severed limbs, appeared from the “west” hallway. Totally ignoring you, the trio of zombies pushes their carts up to the edge of the pit, and dumps the contains onto the top of the body part pile. This task complete, the zombies back up and turn around, heading back the way they came.

WhiteKnight777

You immediately begin to feel strength return to your body after drinking the guard’s body dry. Although a bit soured by death, the guard’s blood was still fresh enough to be useable. Within a minute the hole in your shoulder is gone, although the movements of your right arm are still a bit stiff as your body continues to fill in the hole that had been burned through it.

Pushing yourself back up to your feet, you compliment Mellita, who grins sheepishly at your praise. With her non-crippled hand, she gestures at the corpse of the other guard, still propped up against the wall and held in place by several strands of spider silk. “Please, Lord Umber. Take the other guard’s blood if you require it. My injury is . . . regrettable, but it will not prevent me from continuing to serve as your guide. And there may be additional obstacles ahead that will require your strength.”

Looking down at the corpse of the spider you disposed of, Mellita frowns in concentration. “I am surprised to find these creatures this far down – evidently the territory of their infestation is expanding. I apologize for not warning you about their acid ahead of time, Lord Umber. As I said, I had not anticipated encountering them along our route.”

Actually looking annoyed, Mellita shakes her head in frustration before bending down to fumble with the eaten guard’s corpse, removing his short sword from its scabbard. “I recommend arming ourselves with these guards’ weapons as well, in the event we should encounter more of them further along. Their acidic blood will render more weapons quickly useless, but as you’ve seen it is better than using bare flesh. I believe the other guard had a crossbow with him, and twenty bolts.”

Torture Chambers

Dorizzit/rubakhin

You quickly coordinate with Dima, and together you manage to cut the woman down without much difficulty or further injury. Dima rests the woman on the back of his tiger, a bit unconventional of a resting place but certainly much better than the hard stone floor at this point. Arms hanging down limply with her hands still bound behind her and sweating profusely, the woman appears to be in poor shape.

Her somewhat rapid breathing and occasional twitches or outright muscle spasms suggest that Dima is right in saying she is suffering some sort of panic attack, although she shows no sign of improvement for several minutes. But then she throws her head back wildly, managing to flip some of her hair back and out of her face. This act reveals most of the right side of the woman’s face, her nose on over to her left ear still obscured by the thick mane of golden hair.

Now exposed, the woman’s visible dark emerald-colored eye widens in shock, and then narrows in suspicion. She chews anxiously on her lower lip for a moment before starting to speak, her voice faltering at first but gradually gaining strength.

“I . . . I am not sure . . . that I can trust you. I mean, that awful man . . . he has sworn not to mar my body, but there are many tortures to inflict on the mind that leave not a single mark. I dare not hope that this is anything other than a sick game. I can’t afford to trust . . . danger lurks on every side . . . I have to get out of here. I have to!”

The woman shakes her head violently, and then bites down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. Opening her visible eye again, the woman draws a shuddering breath and looks up at you again, forcing a smile on her face.

“I am sorry. I think I’ve been poisoned. The guards . . . ever since they forced that vile brew down my throat I’ve been overcome with the greatest sense of unease. My heart is positively racing, even as it should be slowing in this moment of calm. My every sense screams at me not to trust you; my sudden inexplicable rescue at your hands suggesting that this is a trick, for who would know to look for me here? And I would not expect most prisoners, if that is what you would claim to be, to act so nobly in this instance. Even if you could overpower two guards such as these, there are many more and escape from this place is impossible. I have heard that only the worst scum throughout the kingdom is sent to this dark place, and so should I not expect two such prisoners to seek to inflict as much carnage as possible before being restrained once more? The fact that you are helping me rather than taking advantage suggests that you both are something more than prisoners.”

The woman shakes her head again, smiling genuinely this time. “I am sorry, I seem to be rambling. Giving voice to my thoughts seems to be the only way I can keep my head clear of the fear. In any case, if you are guards in disguise, then you already know who I am and there is nothing to lose by playing along with your feigned ignorance. If you must know, I am the Countess Amelia Ashargrin. And I believe that my crime, if you could call it that, would be refusing to marry a certain son of the Baron of Gast’s. No doubt the Baron thought to ally our two provinces through marriage, and that I would be easily convinced after my father’s recent death. I refused to be manipulated into marrying that pathetic freak of a man, and thus angered him and his father both greatly. One night I was abducted from my manor, and several days later I found myself here. I was told that I could leave whenever I wanted, provided that I agreed to marry the Baron’s son. But I will not yield to abuse anymore than I yielded to the Baron’s less obtuse methods of coercion. So, now then, is this charade at an end or are you going to continue it by telling me your “names”?”

The Labs

Iethloc

Alright. The assistant responds, and then reaches down to wrap his hands around Gene’s throat. You feel a sense of satisfaction emanate from the assistant’s mind as his clenches his hands, choking the last breaths out of the helpless Sage. Then, Gene breaths his last, and now there are only Three Sages.

How long do you require to prepare yourself for another fight? The assistant asked as “you” purposefully stride towards the iron door on the far side of the room.

From what I remember, there are two more labs between here and the maximum security level of cells. Alternatively, we could head deeper into the labs, but I do not know what lies deeper in, only what is in the two labs that I have to cross through when being brought from my cell. If it will help you in making a decision, I can tell you that the first lab we’ll have to cross through belongs to Dr. Zarov. Interested in discovering the primal link between mankind and demons, the doctor regularly has prisoners delivered to his laboratory. Once there, he injects them with mixtures of blood taken from several different species of demons. Sometimes the results are instantly fatal, although apparently he has recently discovered one mixture that turns humans into mad, slavering killers with greatly increased strength and speed. Assuming we can’t bluff our way past him, which is doubtful since most of the surviving guards likely escaped through there, it seems likely we’ll have him, a couple test subjects, and the demons that he extracts the blood from to deal with.

Ritual Chambers

Pwenet

Sniffling the girl wipes the tears from her eyes, frowning as she focuses on your questions. “Umm . . . I don’t think I have a name. Unless you count “Girl” or “Slave” or “Harlot”. And it was the cultists who brought me here, after my mother handed me over to them. She was so happy that day . . . one of the only times she ever smiled at me . . . I should have known, but . . . it was the only time I had ever managed to please her. I was so happy, so hopeful that maybe my luck was about to change, I didn’t question. Just went right along with it, went with the “nice men”, let them tie me up and throw me into a sack, didn’t complain a peep even though the ropes were too tight. I just thought it was some sort of goofy game mommy was playing, and that patience would lead to understanding. I convinced myself that this was some sort of final test I had to endure, and at the end they’d open up the sack and my mother would be standing there, and she’d finally welcome me into the family for real; give me a name that wasn’t an insult, give me all those things my siblings all had but I never got, love me. What a fool I was!”

For a moment, the girl appears to be on the verge of a breakdown again, reaching up to grab and tug at a handful of golden hair. But then she continues.

“It took me two days for the lie to finally ring hollow enough for me to stop believing it. I overheard voices talking as we traveled somewhere by cart: not enough to figure out what they were planning, but enough to know that they were going to kill me. My mother had finally made good on the promise she used to shriek at me when she was in a particularly black mood. Then I came here, and oh gods, what I saw. The cultists rushed me through the upper levels, so I don’t have too clear of a memory of those. They didn’t even register me with the guards, saying that I wouldn’t be here long enough to matter.”

Some of the color draining away from her face, the girl covers her mouth with one hand as she relates the next part of her story. “When I first came down here, there was another girl about my age, Samantha. The two of us were locked in these little iron cages, so we didn’t have much to do but talk. The cultists were busy making preparations, so except for the guy bringing us food and water we were pretty much left alone. I know this is going to sound foolish, but those couple days, just sitting around talking with Samantha, making plans on how we were going to escape and go on to start our own merchant house . . . those were probably the best days of my life. So quiet . . . peaceful, even.

But then the day for the first sacrifice came, and they took Samantha away first, because she was a year older and a brunette, so they wanted to save me for last. She tried to fight them, but they knocked her unconscious and dragged her away. Then the chanting started, and I heard Samantha start screaming shortly after. And she kept screaming for . . . two, maybe three hours? Then suddenly it stopped, it just all stopped, the screaming and the chanting both and I knew she was dead. Samantha was dead, the only person who ever talked to me like a person . . . my only friend. And then a day later it was my turn, and well we’ve both seen how that turned out.”

The girl sighs, and then looks up at you, eyes finally starting to dry out. “Thank you for listening. You didn’t have to, but you did and I appreciate it.”

Again, the girl tugs on a handful of her golden hair. “Umm . . . I’m not sure what happens next. I wasn’t really expecting to live this long, even in a general sense. I guess now we escape, and I start up that merchant guild? For Samantha.”

[Dorizzit]

Korram nods. "I am sorry. I did not mean to pressure you. Let me see if I can answer some of your questions. My name is Korram Alstan, and this is my..." Korram pauses, unsure how to define the nature of his relationship with Dima. "This is Dima. We broke free at around the same time, and we are currently attempting to Escape From Ironheart (). We weren't specifically looking for you, rather we stumbled upon the connecting chamber and decided to investigate, as neither of us are bad people, despite our current surroundings. I was a revolutionary against the Baron. Dima was a thief. As for your belief about us being guards...we just killed two elite guards. And we both have abilities which can only be described as...unusual." He motions with his fire arm. "Do you require any further proof of our identities?"

[Feralgeist]

"you know what i hate most about this place? It's the smell. I have been choking here for 10 years, and i would do ANYTHING for a breath of fresh air. MY name is....is...well, they call me the iron shifter. Iron because of what i am bound in, and shifter....well, i guess you'll find out. I was a scapegoat for someone else's crime, an experiment for someone elses' magic, and now i am nothing short of a monster. You seem like a nice man, rawya.....I hope i am not asked to kill you. Tell me, please, what is it that you fight with? and how many fights have you been in? and lastly, are you any good at picking locks?"

<Incidentally, pretend that it hurts when i headbutt you>"

Lamont says and whispers all this,while hardening a few tendrils of his long hair, he butts his head forward towards the prisoner with a loud grunt, the trying to make a clean snap in the chains between the mans wrists. another tendril making a small nick on the mans face, not enough to do any damage but to draw some blood to disguise the lack of bruising.

He leans back, saying loudly "I told you not to touch me!"
Leaning ever so slightly closer, he whispers quietly <Sorry about that, but i hope this'll help you in the fight. It's difficult enough without being bound. Keep your wrists together>

Lamont smiles softly under his mask, the blue eye glinting sharply at the stranger, lighting up a fraction of the face within

[rubakhin]

"Not just a thief," said Dima. "But a thief-in-law. I follow the Code." He clapped a hand to his shoulder, to the tattoo of the tiger along his arm. "No ordinary thief would have a tattoo like this. And anyway, you are also in this prison. We have no reason to trust you, either. You could be some kind of ... " He searches for the right word. "Enchantress."

He clarifies, "Whether you're a dangerous criminal or not, all I know is that it's not right to torture people like they were torturing you."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber nods, already moving around, briskly stripping the corpses of all the useful materials. He looks Milletia up and down for a moment, then nods, bending to sip at the second guard's neck for a moment. However, he soon stands, licking his lips and holding the man's throat-wound closed No, you should drink as well, My dear. We'll both need our strength, and I do not wish to spend your life so carelessly by taking you into danger in a weakened state. Drink of this mortal and repair yourself 'ere we move on. He smiles at her again, nodding her forward. As she drinks, he speaks again.

When you are ready, we can move on again. Do not worry, by the way. You cannot predict everything... and this is still much better than my previous condition, so I have no real cause for complaint.

[Iethloc]

Sohssal

I just need a few minutes to recharge... Sohssal commented as he drew upon what energy Gene had released in both life and death. He stayed silent for a few moments as he concentrated solely on that, but eventually "spoke" again. Primal link between humans and demons? Sohssal said, and couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. I know quite a bit about that stuff... he thought to himself. Silent again, he stared at the iron door in front of him, thinking over what information the assistant had given him.Sounds great! Maybe I will have met some of these demons. Let's get going, then... he said, surprisingly enthusiastic.

[Pwenet]

Incom & Harvey

Listening to the story of the girl, of the fabled simple yet happy life, part of Incom remembers who own initial desires to just have a simple life on the farm. Memories and feelings long since buried under years of torture start to swell up, and Incom's features shift as he relaxes, and the power of Harvey slips away from him slowly.

What is this? Is her little sob story touching you? Reminding you of things? You can NEVER have the simple life again, with me here next to you, waiting for my era of glory.

Twitching his head slightly, Incom kneels down in front of the girl and looks into her eyes.

”You desire a simple life. That is something forever denied to me. Yet this place is evil, run by evil, corrupted. Evil has soaked into the cracks, into the mortar, into the very foundations of this place. I will not rest until some of it has been excised from this realm. I have also promised you escape, so that you may enjoy a simple life. Promise me that you will lead a happy life if we are able to escape.”

Standing up and cracking his back, Incom looks around and rolls his eyes slightly into his skull.

Awe, you want her to be happy. To let her have a nice simple life forever denied to you. And she is useless! She knows nothing to let you escape! Kill her now like those other fools and move on. The more you rampage the more fun I have.

No.

No?

She is coming along for the ride, for the signing and screaming. Think of the education. Plus I sense that her part in the fates of life is not yet done.

Hmph. That cursed spine of yours. Don't blame me if she dies screaming in agony later on.

Blinking rapidly, Incom gestures to her.

”We are leaving, now. Stay behind me, and be warned, you will see things that will scare you, haunt you, and possibly shatter your mind. Yet that is the cost of escape, ready to dance?”

Not waiting for an answer from her, Incom turns and makes his way towards the exit where the cultists escaped from, not waiting for the Seven to find him, or at least, unawares.

[Inspectre]

Elsewhere . . .

From the soaring heights of his office, the Warden looked down upon his domain. Located at the very top of the Central Tower, the Warden’s office was an impressive sight worthy of a man who had reached the pinnacle of Ironheart. Carpeted in red velvet to lessen sound, a series of iron steps lead up from the secure floor below, stopping about halfway between the wall and the center of the room.

From the top of the steps, the red carpet continued across the room, stopping just in front of the Warden’s large and exquisite wooden desk. Made from a specific species of ironwood, the unyielding black wood was utterly appropriate for a desk used by the master of Ironheart. A large red upholstered chair with black iron legs served as the Warden’s desk chair, although a joint between the chair’s legs and seat allowed the Warden to twist the chair about as he wished without having to move the legs as well. Quite a useful invention, that, as it allowed him to frequently turn away from his desk to stare out the window behind the desk.

The window in question was a floor to ceiling, wall to wall hole in the wall behind the Warden’s desk, resulting in an entrant to his office seeing only his black desk at first, standing out starkly against the image of the sky and horizon behind him. Of course, such a massive window could have been a liability, but a high iron rail running across at waist height preventing the Warden from ever accidentally sliding his chair back over the side and out the window. Additionally, some sort of magical energy field invisibly covered the window unless the Warden specifically deactivated it. This proved quite useful in keeping the Warden warm when he had no need of using the window to throw a prisoner out of his prison, watching in glee as he or she fell screaming to inevitable death hundreds of feet below.

After turning away from the desk, however, an entrant would notice the other furniture set up at either end of the room, allowing the Warden to live in total comfort up here in his own Office. On the left side was an ornate wooden table with several comfortable chairs, allowing him to entertain and sup with guests as necessity required. Concealed leather straps built into one of the chairs also ensured that the Warden could host dinner for prisoners sent up to visit him as well, although they seldom lived long enough to talk advantage of his hospitality.

Beyond the dinner table and arrayed against the left wall were a number of the more elaborate torture devices that the Warden had found most amusing over the years. Once, when hosting dinner for his Lord and Lady, he had ordered a prisoner placed in each of the machines, with attendants standing by to periodically operate the machinery throughout the dinner. The prisoners’ screams had been the perfect music for the dinner, and by the end of it several of them were even still alive and conscious enough to serve as good examples for the Warden to demonstrate the joy of flinging them out the window.

On the other side of the room were the Warden’s personal quarters. Cordoned off from the rest of the room by thick curtains, this private space included several wardrobes and chests for his personal belongings, a small table for private dinners, and a large four-posted bed. Like the special guest dinner chair, the Warden’s bed was also equipped with restraints for those prisoners pretty enough and with enough spit to survive long enough to justify staying the night. Sadly, no one had ever lasted long enough to see the dawn of the next morning, which really was quite a pity as the sight of the sun rising up through the Warden’s office window was quite spectacular.

Unfortunately, such petty amusements had recently become beneath the Warden, and now he lived only to serve. Still, the Warden was just a man, and so had looked upon this day with a great sense of anticipation. Now the day he had worked so hard for was finally here, and he had to admit feeling rather disappointed as his small role within it all. Perhaps later he would go down and assist with the preparations personally: the guards could always use a fresh set of hands moving the prisoners out of their cells.

Hearing the soft tread of footsteps on the velvet carpet, the Warden twisted his chair away from the window and back to his desk, just in time to see an elite guard reach the top of the stairway. Approaching the desk, the elite sharply saluted his commander, before dropping down on one knee before the desk.

“Sir, the Prophets report that the Ritual will begin in earnest shortly. Until then, however, they will require an additional number of prisoners to hold in reserve for the Ritual’s start. A greater than expected number of sacrifices have been required to maintain the energies needed to even begin the Ritual. The Hierarch also reports that he will visit with you shortly before the Ritual begins.”

Smiling, the Warden nodded. “Excellent. Inform the Hierarch that I look forward to his visitation, and that he may draw whatever resources are necessary to ensure the Ritual’s success. Is there anything else to report at this time?”

Frowning the elite momentarily looked up, and then returned his stare to the floor. “No sir. We’ve gotten several reports of prisoners attempting to escape, but so far none of the vermin have become enough of a threat to justify your personal concern.”

“Ah yes. Well, after today, I suspect that we shall not have to worry about containing the vermin any longer. Inform me immediately if the situation changes: nothing can endanger the Ritual. You may good.”

Saluting, the Warden dismissed the elite, and then turned back to the window to look down on his domain. Oh yes, it would not be long now until everything changed around here.

The Arena

Frozen

Rawya listens carefully to your story, nodding at points but otherwise not interrupting. When you are finished he smiles, flashing his bright teeth at you. “Thank you, friend. A most interesting tale. I would most certainly like to hear the exact details of your life, those that you remember and are willing to share, some other time. A good poem contains many details, if not the exact truth. As for your questions, I fight with the weapons of my homeland: the scimitar and the dagger. These dogs refuse to allow me the use of a bow as well, no doubt out of fear that I would foolishly expend any remaining arrows against the crowd. I would certainly much rather use those arrows against those that make me fight rather than those that watch me fight, but I suppose such a thing is even worse in their eyes. No matter, one day I shall be free to do whatever I wish once again. But what was that about pretending?”

A moment later you thrust your head forward, one thick tendril of hair slamming into the chain between the man’s wrists while another lightly cuts into his face. Leaning down, Rawya wipes as his face with his right hand, smearing the few drops of blood across his cheek. He then begins flailing his legs, trying to kick at you. “Beast! Get back!”

Within moments a guard has arrived, face twisted into an angry sneer. “Alright, you two, break it up or I’ll break you both!” The guard gives you both a solid thump on the back with his club and waiting to see if you would both settle both. When satisfied neither of you were going to continue causing trouble, he saunters off again, failing to notice the cracked link of chain now holding Rawya’s manacles together.

“An interesting ploy, my friend. I am afraid I do not have any experience picking locks, as I am not a thief and respect others’ property if they respect mine. Nonetheless, all of these guards wandering about have keys to unlock the chains holding us to the benches, and there’s bound to be a guard with chains to our individual chains, as they generally let us fight free within the Arena. As for my own experience within the Arena, I have only been involved in two fights so far. The first was as part of a group match against several guards. We lost that battle, and I was the only survivor: the guards chose one prisoner to live for a grudge match later, and I was the “lucky one”. Even so, I spent a number of days clinging to life in Healer Sara’s care. My second fight was a grudge match against one of the guards as intended. Fueled by rage, I slew the ignoble cur. Now I sit here, awaiting my third and possibly final match, for I have heard that I will face beasts next. And the guards do not like their pets to lose.”

From beyond the stone walls, you can suddenly hear a dull roar: a multitude of voices screaming in triumph and excitement. “It would seem that the current match has been concluded in some sort of spectacular and gruesome fashion. I suspect that my time grows near indeed. So, what of your experiences in the Arena? I do not recall seeing you before today.”

???????

WhiteKnight777

You take the guard’s crossbow and quarrel of bolts, but unfortunately find little else of immediate use on the corpse. Up close, you can see a large hole in the man’s chest and the chainmail worn over it: no doubt the fatal wound inflicted by the spider and its acid. Thus, both suits are useless having similar flaws, but at least the weapons are still in good condition.

Tasting the guard’s blood, you find that your previous limp has faded completely, and most of the tightness in your shoulder as well. Mellita watches hungrily, and thanks you with a smile when you offer the remains to her. She drinks hungrily, and moments later you watch as her fingers regrow their flesh and straighten. Holding them in front of her face and wiggling them, Mellita rewards you with another smile before starting off down the tunnel again.

“My thanks, Lord Umber. I hope that we will not encounter any more unexpected surprises in our journey. One such mistake is shameful enough for me.” A note of anger creeping into her voice, Mellita smiles sadly and presses on down the tunnel, leading you further into darkness.

You perhaps travel for another five minutes in relative silence before a piercing scream echoes up the tunnel. “What does the sun reveal now!?” Mellita snarls, her words the newest incarnation of an ancient vampire curse. She brandishes her short sword, and then turns back to you. “This is another something of which I was unaware, I regret. It sounds like it is only a short distance further along: there is a small cavern up ahead that could be the source of this newest distraction. I do not believe that there is another way past the cavern, so we will have to past through whatever is now there.”

Turning back to the tunnel, Mellita presses herself up against one side of the tunnel wall and then begins to cautiously advance once more. Up ahead, another agonized scream echoes off the walls.

Torture Chambers

Dorizzit/rubakhin

A smile briefly plays across Countess Amelia’s lips, although it fades quickly as she exhales heavily and draws another shuddering breath in. “My panic is telling me that you killed two men dressed as elite guardsmen. And the Warden and his master the Baron most certainly employ individuals with . . . unique talents such as yourselves. I do not know if there is anything you can say or do that will put my mind at ease right now.”

The countess then gives a short bark of a laugh, although immediately after grimaces as the movement travels through her dislocated arms. “Nor, do I expect, is there anything that I can do to convince you that I am a Countess and not an . . . Enchantress. If we somehow accomplish the impossible and are able to return to my home, then I assure you that I could provide a great deal of evidence as to my heritage.”

The Countess closes her visible eye for a moment and shudders violently as the drug continues to run its course. After the tremors pass, the Countess opens her eye again with a sigh and continues. “Now then, is it your intention to express your own distrust of me by keeping me prisoner? Otherwise I should very much like my hands to be untied and something to be done about my injured shoulders. Neither is helping me suppress the growing urge to run wildly about the room, screaming madly.”

The Labs

Iethloc

Very well. Have you considered how we’re going to circumvent the security present beyond the Labs? I understand that there are a number of powerful wards and magical sensors in place, with large teams of elite guards standing by to move in at a moment’s notice should an unauthorized visitor appear.

A few minutes later, you feel revitalized after bathing in the rapidly fading magical energy left in the air by Gene’s death. With the magic having finally faded to the point of uselessness, but with you feeling stronger all the same, it was time to move on. “You” walk over to the nearby heavy admantite door, covered in runes similar to those that adorn the door to your mirrored cell. Reaching out, you grasp the door only to feel a strong electrical jolt course through your body, sending you staggering back away from the door.

Hmmm . . . should have known that the exorcism runes would interfere in you leaving this lab, even voluntarily. I don’t think the runes remain active once the door is open, however, otherwise we’d never be able to remove you from your cell. So, if we can force the door open or get someone else to open it, we should be fine. I doubt the guards had the presence of mind to lock the door after closing it, so that’s a plus at least.

Ritual Chambers

Pwenet

The girl looks up at you with wide eyes, but nods a moment later. “Yes, I – I will try to live a happy life. I am ready to try escaping now.” She pushes herself up to her feet a moment later, shivering. “I’m cold. I don’t think they made this thing for warmth.” She says, gesturing down at her torn and somewhat revealing white dress. Walking over to the cultist leader, the girl undoes the belt holding his robes closed and starts working him out of it.

“Eeeww! He’s naked underneath! Pah, what an ugly smell! Don’t think about it, don’t think about it . . . “ Continuing to mutter this latest mantra under her breath, the girl stares up at the ceiling while she finishes working the dead cultist’s body out of the robe before draping it over her shoulders. Made for a tall mature man, the robe completely covers the girl from head to toe, while several inches draping down onto the floor. Clutching the robe closed at the neck with one slender hand with the other tucked away in the robe, the cowled form of the girl nods. “Okay! Ready to go! Hey, wait up!”

The girl hurries to catch up with you while you stride boldly to the door leading out of this room. In their haste to flee, the cultists had left the door wide open, and you can see a long tunnel leading off into darkness. No one is currently in sight, although you know that just means an ambush could be set up just out of sight up ahead. In any case, this door was the only way out of the room, and would take you further away from the dragon cultists and (hopefully) the Malevolent Seven.

“Oh, it’s dark! One second, I can fix that!” The girl exclaims, running off to momentarily return with an unlit torch. “You can create fire, right? Well, here you go! Just a little fire and we’ll be able to see!” The girl explains helpfully, handing the unlit torch to you.

[Gnomish Wanderer]

Desot

Desot turned quickly and threw up his left arm. The thick acid covered it, the flesh beginning to hiss and boil strongly. He screamed and lunged the spear forward into one of the creature's bulbous eyes.

The spider, hardly phazed, lunged again as Desot fell back, the spear pulling free. As its thick jaws lay only inches away from his face, the saliva melted away at the wooden handle. He struggled to hold back to thing, until the handle was down to its last splinter. With a snap of breaking wood Desot screamed again and pushed the spider up and off of him, sliding the broken tip deep into the spider's underside.

He stood up clutching his battered arm as the creature squirmed and bled out nearby. He walked over to it and spat out. "Damn spiders..." His foot pressed down on the creature's carapace, shoving it to the ground and thus the blade further in.

Spoiler

Show

Spiders 1, Desot 2! OH YEAH!
Anyway I want his arm to be mostly physically hurt, but not really that permanently. He probably won't be using it much though...

[Feralgeist]

"that's because today is my first day. My first day in a to have ever really fought someone or something, and the first day i have been let free to walk around in years. They pitted me earlier against a wingless chimera, a nasty thing with many heads and even more attitude."
His eyes water and he looks sadly at rawya
"I am ashamed to say that i did kill the beast. I am not one or being bloodthirsty, but i will do anything to get out of here. Speaking of which..." He leans closer <if you want to escape, i think in this room would be the place to do it. Whether before our fight, after it, or at the start of the next one, i think we should break free. All these men must be seasoned fighters to have lived this far, no? in the arena we are defenseless and open, but if we can catch them by surprise....>
Lamont grins beneath his mask, and cracks his knuckles, flicking his head back to get the hair off of his face.

[Voth]

Well this is a fine kettle of fish you have got us into!

Me? I didn't do anything!

Well I'm just a voice in your head so how is it my fault?

Just shut up. Where are we anyway?

Oh yes because I know all! I can tell you exactly where we are. We. Are. In. Trouble.

It was a rhetorical question you sod.

Details Details.

Shaking his head in frustration, Voth gets to his feet, rather painfully, and begins to limp down the hallway looking for a way to escape this new found prison.

[Dorizzit]

Korram exits the room for a few seconds to retrieve his suppressor, re-tying it as he enters the room. "I can't do much about your hands without hurting you, but I can reset your shoulders...it will just be somewhat painful. Acceptable?" If the Countess accepts, Korram sets her shoulders, and although indeed painful he does it quite well. If the Countess declines, Korram quirks and eyebrow but shrugs and says nothing.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Perfect!

Victor ignored the zombies as they ignored him and started harvesting ingredients off the bodies and the fungus. He does this by fishing stuff out with the rope, not by descending into the pit.

After harvesting the ingredients, Victor will go the way the zombies went, trying to make some very simple explosives with a small blast radius along the way.

[Pwenet]

Watching the little girl gather the robes from the corpse of the cultist leader, a stray thought flickers through Incoms mind.

She is right, it is rather chilly in here.

You mortals and you need to maintain temperatures. If I was in my full form....

Yeah yeah yeah, if I gave in, we would be much happier. Wait, is there not another reason to wear clothing?

Why are you asking me? I'm a dragon! We don't wear clothing.

I think it has something to do with.... protection maybe?

Why would you need it with me here?

Wait, modesty! THAT'S IT! MODESTY!

Realizing that he is pretty much clad in a loincloth that is barely holding together (being tortured repeatably and having a dragon fused with you rendering you immune to getting sick means that a clothing budget does not have much money in it), Incom looks around and sees the cultist that he impaled with a knife through the throat. Realizing that the dead body has a fully intact robe, Incom strips him of it and puts it on. Luckily enough it fits comfortably as if it was fitting for him.

By this point the girl has returned bearing an unlit torch, and talking about fire and generating it. Snapping his fingers, nothing happens.

What is this?

You are getting too calm. Ask me nicely, maybe with a touch of anger on the side.

What? You enjoy stumbling around in the dark being hacked to pieces. Obviously your little minions are not the only ones down here.

I know that foolish mortal, yet I demand some respect! I have kept you alive, I even allowed you to end that fight after you decided to start fighting again without too much arguing. Now, ask me nicely!

”Ask you nicely! You are a parasite! I overgrown lizard parasite that crawls around whispering fables of lies and blood that wants to usher in a age of fire!”

Blinking Incom realizing that he has started yelling out loud. He clears his throat and looks around a bit, almost crazy like.

Fine. May I have some power pretty please with sugar and hate on top?

Moving on it's own, Incom hand snaps its fingers, and flames emerge on the unlit torch, setting it on fire and illuminating the passageway.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber just smiles and gives a little shrug. He had expected, as it were, the unexpected. Life, it had always seemed to him, played by certain rules, despite its apparent disorder - one of the foremost of which was that nothing that sounded simple ever was, and anything that sounded complicated was probably moreso than one expected. He remained silent, his feat moving across the stone with utmost care. He had been many things in his time... and he had learned the arts of stealth long ago amongst the city of Zhjar, to the far south. Several millenia ago, the assassins of that same city had been famed throughout the world for their skill and merciless dedication. Once gold and blood had been paid, they would not stop until their quarry was dead. That had been the primary attraction for him - their dedication, their skill. Whenever he sought to learn a new trade, he never saw the point in messing about with ameteurs. The fact that for every death they demanded like payment was a plus. They had always used the victims for sacrifice to Death, whom they considered their only master. Yes, that aspect had always pleased Umber as well. He enjoyed irony, after all and, of course, the sacrifices provided a convenient method of feeding. Now, sadly, all that remained of the Zhjarites were a few old legends, the tales of historians, and a peculiar kind of mask affected by some assassins which had its ultimate origins in long-shattered Zhjar. And, of course, Umber's memory.

And so he moved through the darkness on catlike feet, padding silently behind his captive-guide, a predatory grin on his handsome features. His lips had tasted sanguine, and he felt in his unbeating heart that it was just a taste of the red glory that was to come.

[ubersquid]

"Watch out!"

Elkwin tries to warn Dwiggs of the arising new threat, but it is too late already, as some of the new Zombies suddenly jump onto the dwarf and bury him beneath them.

Holding the shovel like a spear, Elkwin tries to keep his distance from the undead, by basically thrusting it at everything that moves, not killing any of them, but at least keeping their deadly jaws away from himself for the moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees another figure close by, and he brings the shovel around for another blow. Luckily, Elkwin is not completely overwhelmed by his agony yet, and he stops the shovel right before the pair of eyes that look at him in panic and Elkwin recognices them belonging to the Prisoner who was walking right behind him and Dwiggs before. The man who is apparently still alive then continues to frantically hammer the slave chain with is pick, shivering and whimpering in fear of death.

"Comeon lad! You can do it! I can't hold them back much longer!"

Elkwin continued too keep the Zombies away from him and the other survivor, but his efforts where futile, as everytime he turned around to shove away one of them, the Zombie on the other side came even closer. Then, with a distinct noise, the other prisoner finally managed to hit the chain at the right spot, breaking one of the links and setting him free.

"Finally! We need to run! NOW!"

Looking up the hallway that lead back to the mines, there was a huge pile of Zombies, old and new, approaching now, while the other direction only had four or five of them.

"We can't go up there anymore... need to find our way through the crypts, can't be much worse than now, eh?"

They booth run, or hobble moreover, as fast as they can, Pushing away the few Zombies in front of them and leaving their makeshift weapons behind in the process. Elkwin ignores their attacks for now, only evading the jaws of the zombies.

Both still carry manacles and fetters around their wrists and ankles and the second prisoner drags a few feet of slave chain behind him, but they somehow manage to put some distance between them and the Zombies as they stumble into the dark, towards the crypt.

[Inspectre]

The Mines

gnome_4ever/Engineer

(Been awhile since Engineer has posted: 5 DMs now by my count. Has something happened?)

Desot manages to kill his spider with the remains of his shovel before stopping to examine his injuries. Although perhaps only a small portion of the spider’s acid stream had actually made contact with his arm, the damage is still rather severe. Capable of eating through solid rock, the acid had little trouble eating through the man’s flesh as well. The entire arm is now covered in painful blistering flesh, and in several locations the skin is gone completely, exposing the reds and whites of muscle and bone. Nauseated, Desot looks away from the source of his discomfort to see how his companion is doing.

Surprisingly, the little man is doing quite well. As Desot watches, the two spiders suddenly turn and face off against each other. This is followed by one leaping in, stabbing its fangs deeply into the head of its companion and tearing it apart in a spray of acid and blood. As the false illusion of enemy falls from its mind, the surviving spider looks upon what has happened and hisses angrily.

As Desot observed before, this may not necessarily be an expression of emotion so much as preparation for attack. A moment later a stream of acid spews forth from the creature’s mouth, and it shakes its head, directing the spray in all directions. Although caught unaware by the attack, Amraf is nimble enough to dodge back out of the away enough to avoid the worst of the attack. Nonetheless, his right foot is still caught by the acid spray, and he screams as he collapses onto the floor. While Amraf seeks to cradle and comfort his wounded foot, his attention on his illusions lapses. This allows the spider to locate him once more.

“Desot! Help!” He cries as the spider begins to eagerly skitter towards him, bony fangs scraping loudly together.

The Catacombs

ubersquid

(Eeerrr yeah. No weapons and no light down here = death. Fortunately you still have a buddy. )

You manage to keep the zombies at bay for the moment, watching first in horror as Dwiggs is buried under zombies, and then shouting at the other prisoner to hurry. With the strength born of desperation the man finally manages to land an unwieldy blow that somehow hits the chain just right anyway, breaking a link. The man quickly twists the chain apart, and then moves to join you.

As you rush past the zombies, running deeper in to the Catacombs, the man briefly stops where one of the guards fell. “Gotta get some light!” He shouts at you as you look back quizzically, before scooping up one of the fallen guards’ lanterns. Although most of the oil had sloshed out when the guard had fallen, its wick had somehow not yet gone out. You were most grateful of this fact as the prisoner raced to join you, dim lantern in one hand; mining pick in the other.

Hobbling along, both of you somehow manage to escape the zombie ambush as new and old alike turn to prevent the remainder of the prisoners from fleeing. Their screams of fear and agony chase after you, still able to reach you even as you flee out of sight, but not hearing, of the ambush point. At last, the screams end, and then there is nothing but oppressive silence as you both continue to hobble along, trying your best not to trip and fall as you move away as quickly as possible.

Shortly after leaving the ambush point, the smooth tunnel walls give way to worked stone, meaningless runes etched into every block. “Woah . . . we must really be in the Catacombs after all!” The man at your side whispers, looking around fearfully.

You have not advanced far down this new hallway before the prisoner at your side stops, dropping down to one knee. “Whew . . . I . . . gotta . . . take . . . breather!” Your fellow prisoner grunts, breathing heavily and evidently allowing himself to stop now that the immediate danger seems to have passed.

“Name’s . . . Marv. Yours?”

The Arena

Frozen

Rawya listens to your suggestion carefully, and nods. “I agree with your assessment, friend. The guards here have most, if not all, of the keys to everyone’s chains. This is our best, if not only, chance to rebel against our keepers. But it would seem we shall have to wait awhile longer – the guards come.”

Looking in the direction that Rawya is pointing, you see a large group of twelve guards appear at the far end of the aisle. They all immediately make a beeline for you and Rawya. “Showtime, freak.” The leader says, unlocking the padlock chaining you to the bench. Grabbing you by one arm and hauling you roughly up to your feet, he shoves you to two of the other guards before turning to Rawya. “You too, foreigner scum.”

“I am to fight him?” Rawya asks incredulously, shooting you a glance.

“Not as such, although I’m sure you’ll wish he was! Now on your feet!” The guard unlocks the chain holding Rawya to the bench, and then hauls him to his feet in much the same manner as he had done with you. As he is dragged up and tossed around, Rawya is careful to keep his hands together, hiding the cracked link of chain from sight.

You, Rawya, and the guards then set off for the door leading out into the Arena, although several times along the way the guards stop to free four more prisoners. The guards then lead you out in the Arena, the crowd starting to cheer immediately upon seeing you.

The guards lead the six of you over to a rack of weapons, all of which appeared to have been dulled or weakened in some way. There, they remove the rest of your restraints, including your mask and cold iron manacles. “Alright scum, grab a weapon and be quick about it. Then get over there by the edge.” The leader of the guards grunts, gesturing to a point around the rim of the Pit just above the iron portcullis leading to the monster pens. The same portal that the Chimera had emerged from, and what appeared to be the only way out of the Pit save for one of the guards lowering a rope ladder.

Looking down into the Pit now, you also see that some sort of wooden structure has been hastily constructed in the middle. A rough tower made out of wooden planks and beams, the tower goes up about ten feet before ending in a flat circular top about five feet wide. Winding up along the side of this tower is a set of wooden stairs, which is presumably the only way from the Pit floor up to the top of the tower without climbing up the side.

As he mentioned before, Rawya equips himself with a scimitar and dagger from the rack before walking over to the point indicated by the guards. The other four prisoners are a bit less certain about their weapon choices, two opting for simple longswords while the other two continue to silently weigh the advantages of each weapon. Or perhaps they both simply wanted to take as long as possible out of fear that Death would be upon them shortly after jumping into the Pit. Whatever the reason, one of the guards quickly sighed, stepping forward to crack both of them in the small of the back with his club. “Hurry it up maggots! Whatever you pick, it’s not gonna save ya! So let’s just get on with it already! You too!” The guard grunts, gesturing at you with his club, but not approaching to swat you in the same manner he had just done to the other two. Coward.

???????

Voth

You limp down the corridor, not particularly caring where it led you so long as it was out of here. You did not have to walk far before the corridor changed, although not in a manner that you particularly liked.

Within the pillars of crystal making up the walls, you begin to notice dark shapes. Stepping in close to one such crystal, you peer carefully inside and notice with horrified surprise that the dark shape is actually a person. The man that hangs inside the crystal appears to be unconscious: eyes closed, head lowered, limbs hanging loosely. He could also be dead, but small eye twitches suggest that he is instead asleep. The man’s dream must not be a particularly pleasant one, as his face is frozen in a mask of stark terror.

Moving on hurriedly after your discovery, you notice more and more of the people-holding crystals, although a great many more of the crystalline pillars remain clear. Suddenly, through the reddish-gloom you notice two dark shapes ahead: one the build of an average man, hanging in mid-air; the other a giant that holds the first up easily with one arm.

I PRONOUNCE YOU GUILTY OF YOUR SINS.

A loud voice suddenly booms out, reaching you clearly even from your position many yards away.

“W-Wait! I-I’ll pay you whatever you want, if you’ll j-just let me go! I’m rich! I have l-lots of m-money stashed away in hidden places!” A panicked voice cries out, barely louder than a whisper by the time it reaches your ears.

SENTENCE WILL NOW BE CARRIED OUT. IMPRISONMENT FOR ALL ETERNITY.

The giant pulls its arm holding the man back, and then slams it into the wall. Surprisingly, instead of either the wall or the giant’s arm being reduced to paste, the wall gives way and engulfs the giant’s arm, similar to water. A moment later, the giant retracts his arm, sans prisoner.

SENTENCING COMPLETE. WRITHE IN ETERNAL TORMENT.

The giant turns away from you and walks out of sight into the reddish haze that marks the limit of your vision in this place. A moment later, however, you hear a voice boom out from behind you.

PRISONER #16,514! THE TIME OF YOUR JUDGEMENT IS AT HAND! YOU STAND ACCUSED OF CONSORTING WITH DEMONS, MURDER, MASS-MURDER, RESISTING ARREST, AND ATTEMPTING ESCAPE. DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO PRESENT TO REFUTE THESE CHARGES BEFORE SENTENCING IS CARRIED OUT?

Shooting a quick glance over your shoulder, you see a gigantic man looming over you. Easily three times your height and twice your width, the man’s tree trunk sized limbs bulge with muscles. Glowing veins of red energy flow across his skin from head to toe, and his eyes are nothing more than small gouts of reddish flame that burn inside his eye sockets. And the frown etched into his granite face suggests that unless you have some very convincing evidence, you are going to be found guilty on all counts.

MrEdwardNigma

Going over to the edge of the pit, you begin attempting to fish components out of the messy pile using the rope. This is surprisingly easy, as you are able to use the noose at the end of the rope to snag loose limbs sticking out of the top of the pile, which are naturally also the freshest. Using the noose-encircled limbs, you are then able to scrape off some of the fungus clinging to the sides of the pit with the limbs as you pull them up.

“What are you doing, Victor?” Cassandra asks, looking at you in confusion as she sees you dipping the rope down into the pit and pulling something back up. “Trying to get some of that glowing fungus?” Cassandra adds, the amount of fungus you have pulled up now illuminating your area with light equivalent to a crescent moon.

You have perhaps pulled up five relatively intact limbs and no more than a handful of the fungus when Cassandra curses softly and nudges you. Looking up, you see another trio of zombies pushing a cart out of a tunnel, containing a bound and gagged prisoner. The man appears to be in bad shape, his body covered in a thin sheen of blood from numerous arcane sigils carved into his flesh. Worse yet, a black-cloaked figure walks alongside the cart, loudly chanting in a language foreign to you, but that makes your skin crawl and your heart race nonetheless.

As before, the figure demonstrates that his kind can see as well in the dark as you, stopping immediately upon seeing you and Cassandra kneeling by the pit.

Intruders. None must threaten the Ritual.

The figure hisses, its voice thin and croaking. It gestures once, and the three zombies immediately stop pushing the cart and begin to shamble towards you.

More sacrifices for Decay to consume.

WhiteKnight777

As you and Mellita continue to creep forward down the tunnel, the screams continue unabated. Finally, you come to a sudden dip in the passageway, which opens up into a small cavern after it levels off again.

Looking down into the cavern from your higher position, you are able to immediately see the source of the screams. In the center of the small cavern is a tall, thick stalactite reaching up to the ceiling. Bound around the outside of the stalactite are six prisoners: male and female, young and old. Bound is perhaps the wrong word, for instead of rope or chains the prisoners are all held in place by smaller stalactites driven through their hands and feet. Larger stalactites have been driven through each of the prisoners’ chests, and as you watch they slowly turn, driving themselves deeper and eliciting another joint scream from all of the prisoners.

Strangely, no blood flows from the wounds at the prisoners’ hands or feet; only from the large stalactites driven through their chests. Angled slightly downward, the stalactites allow blood to seep up from the hideous chest wounds, slowly flowing down the length of the stalactite to drip down onto the floor. Cut into the floor in a wide circle around this stalactite is a thin channel, which directs all of the blood along into a shallow pool off to one side.

Two black-robed figures seemed to be directing this show, one muttering some sort of foul prayer, slowly turning his hands in the air as he would to twist the stalactites deeper into the prisoners’ chests. The other kneels by the pool of blood, also muttering something as he sprinkles dust and ash into the pool, slowly turning the blood into a thin mud.

But it is the bloody symbol smeared onto the central stalactite over the prisoners’ heads that is most interesting to you. Kas’nal’ar – “Let the Blood Flow”, in your own ancient tongue is what that symbol means. It was one of many that your people, the Lords of Blood, had designed and used in your collection of the raw materials necessary for your transformation. It had been lost long ago, destroyed from all knowledge after you all agreed that no one should attempt to follow after you into immortality. What the devil was going on here?

Private Torture Chambers

Dorizzit/rubakhin

The Countess sets her jaw, lips quivering in fear, before nodding. “Do it.” With great care, Korram resets her shoulders, one at a time. Both times the Countess shrieks in agony, but the pain is fleeting and an uncertain smile returns to her lips after Korram finishes. “You have my gratitude, sir. I cannot imagine any guard showing such kindness or care. In spite of my feelings or the impossible coincidence of your sudden arrival, I shall trust you both with my life.”

Forcing another smile on her face, the Countess rolls her shoulders a bit, testing her range of movement. “They both still hurt, but it seems that they both work fine. You did a good job Korram. Now then, is it our intention to remain in this room indefinitely, or shall we depart by way of one of the doors? I do not know what lies beyond the secret door from which you both emerged, but I do know what is beyond the curtain. There is a long narrow hallway, with numerous curtains marking entrances into rooms similar to this one. At one end of the hallway is an iron door, which leads out into a large common room with several more doors and steps going up to the next level. I know one of the doors there leads to a small set of holding cells, which is where I spent my first night here. I know that the door leading into the common room is guarded by a pair of guards, and I think the stairway is guarded as well. I don’t think that the guards are elites – at least not the ones that I have seen – none of them have those red sashes or black chainmail.”

The Countess gasps and hangs her head as another set of shudders wracks her body. “I . . . I’m not sure how we are going to get past them. And I’m sure there’s more that I didn’t see. Those unseen will be attracted by the sounds of fighting, and those will bring in yet more. We’ll be overwhelmed, and then I will find myself back here and – no! No, I will not surrender to these thoughts!”

Angrily, Countess Amelia pushes herself up off the back of Dima’s tiger, bound hands trailing behind her as she stomps about the room. “There has to be something that we can do. Some way we can kill the guards quietly, or slip past them. Or maybe we could go back the way you came? Hmm . . . perhaps we should try to figure out where to go next before we figure out how to get there. Should we attempt to get aboveground? Find someplace to hide until the guards forget about us? Locate some prisoner that’s in the process of digging an escape tunnel?”

Apparently done thinking out loud, the Countess turns back to you, chewing anxiously on her lips. “Well, you both are supposed to be prisoners here. I’ve only seen the inside of these torture chambers since coming here really. Do you know what the best way to escape would be?”

Ritual Chambers

Pwenet

You dress yourself using the other dead cultist’s robes, and then light the girl’s torch with a flick of fire – after asking Harvey nicely for the power to do so.

Okay. The dragon says simply in your mind, clearly pleased that it had gotten its way for once. But next time, I expect you to show me the proper respect. *I* chose *you* for this honor, mortal, and even if you don’t appreciate it you *will* respect me.

The passageway now illuminated by the girl’s torch, you both quickly exit the room and proceed down the tunnel. Although you follow along in the cultists’ footsteps, of them you see no sign. Eventually, the tunnel up ahead of you curves sharply around out of sight, and from beyond that bend you can hear the shouting of angry voices.

Having little choice except to go back the way you came, you motion for the girl to stay back and remain quiet, while you sneak ahead to check things out. The warm glow of torchlight flickers out from around the bend, and so you do not take the girl’s torch for light as you silently creep forward.

Reaching the bend, you crouch down and press yourself against one wall, listening at first. There are many voices, some sounding like frightened humans, others . . . less so.

You will move aside.

“I’m telling you, some crazy dragon freak just messed up our ritual! He’s going to be here soon!”

“Yeah! So you gotta help us deal with him!”

“He’ll ruin your **** too if you don’t!”

“Yeah!”

That is not our concern right now. You will move aside.

Deciding to chance it, you peer around the corner to see that just beyond the bend the tunnel widened out into a mid-sized cavern with multiple exit tunnels. Standing close to the mouth of your tunnel are five familiar looking red-cloaked men, their backs to you. Facing off a short distance from them were four black-cloaked figures, their faces obscured by the black cowls they wore. Cowering a short distance behind these black-cloaked figures are a slave chain of prisoners, men and women both and numbering eight in all.

Sighing in exasperation as the black-cloaked figures begin to move towards one of the nearby tunnels, the new de-facto leader of the demon cultists moves to stand directly in their way. “Stop! We aren’t done yet. Maybe we should just wait here a bit until he shows up, huh? Then you’ll be begging to help us!”

The apparent leader of the black cloaks moves to stand directly in front of the demon cultist, its thin croaking voice confident and firm.

You will move aside, or you will die.

“Hah, just you try it – URGH!” The demon cultist begins before gurgling loudly in surprise as the black cloaked figure raises a gloved hand and plunges it directly into the cultist’s chest. Jerking his hand back out of the cultist’s chest, the black cloaked figure holds the man’s heart aloft for a moment, before dropping it to the ground.

Send them to their dark lord. The figure hisses as the remaining four demon worshippers scream in anger and surprise, drawing daggers hidden in the folds of their robes. What followed would be better labeled as a slaughter rather than a fight as the other three black robed figures closed in, joining their leader in literally tearing the demon cultists apart.

When finished, the black cloaked figures meticulously piled the five hearts of the demon worshippers into the center of the cavern, their leader beginning to trace strange arcane patterns in the blood now covering the cavern floor.

The fools could have been referring to the Sacrifice.

One of the other figures hissed while their leader continued to trace sigils in the spilled blood. Finished with his drawing, the leader of the four stood up.

Irrelevant. We will continue with our purpose until it is complete. Then, and only then, will we inform the Hierarch of the possible escape of a potential Sacrifice. This golem of bone shall ensure that none pass through here until our return. The leader replied, as the sigils began to brightly glow, arcs of reddish electricity beginning to jump between them and the bodies of the five cultists.

A moment later, all five of the cultist bodies are lifted up into the air by bright arcs of lightning, and then in an explosion of blood each of their skeletons is torn from their bodies. As the masses of empty skin and muscle fall to the floor, the five skeletons shoot through the air, coming to hover over the sigils. Once there, they begin to spiral around the sigil, going faster and faster until the skeletons themselves begin to disintegrate into separate bones, and everything becomes a blur of blood-stained bone. Then, with a final crash of red lightning, the sigils evaporate and the excess bones fall lifelessly to the ground, leaving only a large . . . thing . . . standing where the sigils were a moment before.

A full head taller than the cultists, the creature is made entirely out of the blood-stained bones of the cultists; a hodgepodge of bones in only the vaguest shape of a man. It stands on four bent legs, with a whip-like tail made out of several spinal columns dragging along behind it. Its torso is a mass of ribs, their broken off and sharpened points jutting out wickedly here and there. Although it has two arms and hands like a man, the golem also has spinal columns extending out over its hands like scythes. Finally, the creature has a bizarre head: two top-halves of a skull: resulting in four empty eye sockets and two nose holes.

You will prevent all but our kind from passing through here. That is your duty child.The leader replied, earning a clack of teeth from the golem before it settled in place, twisting its head about to scan the room. The four black-robed figures then collect their slave chain of prisoners, and exit the cavern by way of the tunnel nearest to your own. After their departure, all is silent, the bone golem continuing to scan the cavern.

[Dorizzit]

Korram shrugs. "It's been eight years since I last saw anything outside of my cell or the torture chambers. Currently we're trying to get to the prisoner processing level. My daughter was recently captured, and Dima has agreed to help me free her before we retreat to an area he can work on a way out of here for us. It sounds as though the way you came in will be more expedient for our travel, however. Coincidentally, do you want me to free your hands?" Assuming an affirmative response from the countess, Korram releases his arm and burns through the rope before replacing his limiter.

((Yay! First First response!))

[Iethloc]

Bah, Sohssal thought, I won't even be able to drain the magic energy from the door if I can't touch it properly. Sohssal went over his spells and tricks in his head, thinking of just how he could get past this door. All right, with my newfound energy, I can use a spell to open the door. It might rip it of the hinges, instead, but that's still open. I never made a spell that just opens doors. I had hands when I was human and I could walk through them after ascending. Such impudent devices, these doors... Sohssal mentally informed his new partner. Dipping his new, large reserve of energy, he prepared to cast the successor of his dome spell.

A gentle force radiated outward from Sohssal as he focused some energy into the spell, frowning as he remembered that it wasn't a very efficient spell. With a flash of blue light, a beam of force, similar to his other force-based spell, though focused in a forward direction, slammed into the door. Pushed back by the recoil, he fed the spell more energy bit by bit to try to force the door open, watching it carefully as to not waste energy. I believe it's been established that guards aren't much of a challenge for me, and I can drain the energy from any wards, as long as I can touch them, as I demonstrated with the Sage. And if I can't touch them, I'll just destroy them! he deducted.

[Voth]

Voth

I don't like the looks of this...

Quiet I have an idea.

Turning to face the giant, Voth begins his plead. "Noble Judge, I plead Innocent all accounts except for consorting with demons. While it is true that I have in face killed many, were not each of those killed destined to die anyway? For example, the village. Those people were starving to death. Did I not give them release from their torment? Are you to say that it would have been better to allow those people to starve to death?

As for Murder, I ask of you this. If someone some how threatened you with violence, would you not retaliate? If so, would you not do so in such a way to prevent further violence? Is it not the best way to prevent further violence by disabling the offender? I plead that it was in fact self-defense in which I killed those men. Would they not have tried to kill me for fun?

As for resisting arrest, those men had no intention of letting me live, whether or not they were ordered too. They had blood lust in their eyes, and would not have stopped until I lay broken and bleeding to death in front of their feet, if even then. There for I plead that I was only acting on self-preservation in running from the guards.

Finally, as for attempting to escape, if I remember correctly, the mage had ordered me to escape, and as such I was only acting upon his orders."

[ubersquid]

"Elkwin Holmanson... from up north... had a tavern there at the border. Ever been up there?"

Elkwin takes a few moments to catch his breath as well, then takes the lantern, holds it up high and looks down both sides of the hallway.

"Seems to be calm for now... Gotta find a way out of this place. If I'd only know where we are..."

Looking at the lantern itself, Elkwin notices the flame getting even smaller.

"We need more light... There gotta be some torches around here, right?"

He takes a few steps forward to look a bit further, then walks back to his new fellow who is still on the ground, leaning against the wall and offers him a hand to get up.

"Come on Marv, we need to keep moving, the lantern won't make it for long. At least we don't have to run anymore."

"I say we find us some light first, then go to a quiet place where we can work on those chains. I can't tell you how much i long to get rid of them."

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber creeps closer, seeking to get a better view, his curiosity aroused. Though he is, of course, still cautious enough to keep out of view of those performing the ritual, as well as the prisoners, his feet silent as a hunting cat's as he watches. How did these mortals come to know the old tongue? And blood... precious blood. This was disturbing. They should not know that sign. This looked too familiar, to similar to old rituals better left forgotten. When such prices were paid, terrible forces could be called upon by those who knew the correct ways. He thought most such knowledge lost to time, but if there was anything he'd learned, it was that such things always survived. In a way, power was a living thing, and knowledge was power. Knowledge of such potency was a cunning thing indeed, and oft found ways to survive even the most careful of purges. Hidden down through the ages in some musty tome or forgotten repository of forbidden lore, only to be discovered by some fool who knew not the forces with which he dabbled.

And so Umber took out the crossbow, ready to use it if opportunity arose, looking in particular for the leader of the ritual.

[MrEdwardNigma]

Victor's grin broadens. These creatures were far inferior to him, the spar would be easy, unfair almost. He wasn't too sure about the cultist though, he might prove a problem. But right now, he just seemed to be standing around idly, so Victor quickly spun round the rope and lashed out with it (and the metal glove tied to it) at the zombies. Some cracks could be heard as the heavy metal smashed into their skulls, but they were dead, and could not feel the pain.

They shambled on, towards Victor and Cassandra. Victor lashed out again, but this time the rope spun round two of the zombies, tying them together. He tugged at the rope forcefully, and both of them fell down into the pit. Victor only just managed to cut the rope to prevent himself from falling in as well. The last zombie was no problem, as Victor simply jumped on his shoulders and sliced off his head.

"These creatures, they're uneffective. You are in dire need of help, my friend"

Victor let the cultist interpret this himself. It could be seen as a threat, but it could be seen as an offer of help as well. Either way, should he try to flee, Victor would leap off the shoulders of the dead man (before he fell down, off course) and onto the cultist's back.

[Pwenet]

A construct, oh these things are fun to play with. How about we go knock it around, or heat it up until the bones melt or we offer it tea! Tea is good, how I miss tea, can you summon tea Mr. Dragon?

Quiet fool. These little ones, I may be wrong...

Wrong? Oh my, someone come over here and scribe that Mr. Harvey admits that he is WRONG!

Maybe wrong fool. But maybe they were planning on sacrificing us.

Us? But are you not the almighty leader of your little band, those that would do anything for you, trapped in the puny shell that is me?

Your race is mired in treachery, I am not fully surprised if my minions decided to serve another power.

WoW! I feel so bad for you, let me play you a fiddle.

Incom moves one of his hands up and starts fiddling away with his by moving his index finger and thumb together.

Are you quite done? We should probably find those new cultists and ask them to whom they were referring to. Now the best way to take care of this thing is too....

Hush, I'm watching

Hush!?! HUSH!?! YOU DO NOT TELL ME TO HUSH YOU

”Shut up you dragon.”

Surprised that Incom brought their little mental argument into the land of sounds, Harvey shuts up for a second while Incom watching the construct spin it's head around. It is quite possible, lacking eyes that the motion is purely decorative, yet why would it waste it's movement like that, since it was a simple construct. In fact, a construct would just stand there motionless if it could see in all directions at once, which probably meant that it would need to focus on a target.

Nodding to himself on a plan of action, Incom makes his way back carefully to the little girl, and kneels in front of her.

”You are about to view scenes of action, violence and terror that many parents would scream bloody murder over, but you must do the following, be as silent as the wind.”

Not waiting for her to comprehend, Incom reaches to the leather straps holding his half-mask on his face and releases them, taking the mask in his hand, revealing one eye yellow with a red slitted iris, ragged scars around it that have scaled over with something not flesh, but what one would expect to see from a dragon.

About time you lost that thing, and embrace your new heritage.

Ignoring Harvey for the moment, Incom picks up the girl and places her on his back.

”Hang on tightly, and remember, be silent, and if things turn peaceful, run away for now but watch out for evil dark teddy bears.”

Feeling the girl getting a good grip, Incom cracks his back, picks up the torch with one hand and holding his mask in the other, he then sprints down towards the chamber.

Emerging into view, he throws the torch end over end, aiming for the face of the construct. At the same time he throws the mask at the far wall, letting Harvey's strength fill his throwing arm. With luck between the torch in it's eyes and the mask making lots of noises, it will distract the construct enough for Incom to sprint into the chamber that the newest cultists went down.

If that fails, he will toss the girl towards the entrance, cue up some cheesy Star Trek Amok Time fight music and destroy the construct while whistling the theme to Kill Bill.

[Inspectre]

The Catacombs

ubersquid

Looking up as you offer him a hand, Marv forces a smile and accepts your lift up. “Alright. But the first round of drinks is on the house when we get out of here. Can’t say I’ve ever stopped by your tavern, but right now any kind of ale sounds pretty good. Especially if its free.”

Handing you the lantern, Marv switches his grip on the mining pick, now cradling it in both hands. He motions for you to lead on, and follows immediately behind you, looking around in all directions anxiously as the light from your lantern begins to grow dim.

You walk on for several more minutes as the lantern light begins to flicker, when suddenly the rune-covered wall on your left gives way to a door. Looking rather sturdy, seeing as how its made out of granite, the single man-sized door stands solemnly out against the rune-covered wall around it. Unlike the walls, the door is not covered in runes, but instead in some sort of bas-relief carving: a rising sun with twelve rays, each of which ends in the shape of a sword.

“Hmmm . . . a door. Go in and investigate, or keep moving down the corridor to put some more distance between us and the zombies? We’re gonna be moving awfully slow once this lantern goes out.”

???????

Voth

(Because defending your case with something other than a boot to the face was unexpected and pretty cool, you’ll get away with your shoddy excuses for why you *had* to butcher all those people like hogs. Sort of. )

As you speak, the creature who could only be the Judge towers impassively over you, his fiery eyes boring into yours. When you are finished, the Judge frowns and reaches one massive hand up to cup his chin.

HMMMM . . . MOST INTERESTING. YOUR ARGUMENTS HAVE UNEXPECTED MERIT. I SHALL REQUIRE CONSULTATION WITH YOUR ACCUSERS TO DETERMINE THE TRUTH OF YOUR CLAIMS. HOWEVER, YOU DO ADMIT TO CONSORTING WITH DEMONS? THE PUNISHMENT FOR SUCH IS LESS SEVERE THAN YOUR OTHER CRIMES, BUT NEVERTHELESS THE SENTENCE FOR IT MUST BE CARRIED OUT.

The Judge removes its hand from its chin, its frown deepening into a scowl as its eyes continue to bore into your soul.

I SENSE THAT ONE SUCH DEMON IS POSSESSING YOU NOW. ITS REMOVAL FROM YOUR SOUL MUST TAKE PRECIDENCE OVER ALL OTHER CONSIDERATIONS.

Kneeling down, the Judge extends one of his massive hands towards you, palm up, fingers extended.

TAKE MY HAND. WE SHALL REMOVE THE DEMON WITHIN YOU, AND THEN BEGIN YOUR PUNISHMENT FOR THE CRIME OF CONSORTING WITH DEMONS. MEANWHILE, I SHALL CONTACT YOUR ACCUSERS FOR THEIR REBUTTLE TO YOUR CLAIMS.

MrEdwardNigma

You handily dispatch all three of the zombies, careful to keep one eye on the cultist as you do so. For his part, he seemed content to watch the fight play out without interference, standing silently where he had been when he had ordered the zombies to attack. For a moment after you had dispatched the zombies and offered your assistance to the figure, he remains standing still. Then, he begins to move forward, walking confidently towards you. As he walks, he begins speaking, his voice thin and croaking, although you get the sense that he’s not really talking to you.

Intruders identified. One human female, one human male. Female’s hands are still bound. Male has minor modifications: fingertip claws. Removal of major organs or severing of spinal column will be fatal. Engaging now to determine combat threat level.

While you had been fighting the zombies, Cassandra had begun to swing around to one of the outside walls. No doubt hoping to flank anyone coming to attack you, Cassandra waits until the figure has crossed a little more than half the distance between you before making her move. Dashing forward from just behind and to the right of the figure, Cassandra slides to a halt with a yell as she launches a pair of kicks at the figure’s back: one low, one high.

Whirling as Cassandra approaches, the figure blocks her low kick with his left arm, then swings it up with blinding speed to block the second kick aimed at his head. Having blocked Cassandra’s attacks with his left arm, the figure retaliates with his right, delivering a hard punch to her sternum. The blow is powerful enough to send her flying back ten feet, landing on her side and rolling another five feet before coming to a moaning halt.

Addendum to female human. Skilled in unarmed combat. Threat assessment: slight.

The black-cloaked figure then turns his attention back to you. Slowly, he continues walking toward you as the same leisurely pace as before.

WhiteKnight777

You silently take up an observatory position at the top of the dip leading down into the room, watching as the ritual reaches its climax. All of the bound prisoners have started to grow quite pale by now, evidently prompting the figure directing the stalactites to decide it was time to end it. Raising both hands in front of him, the figure thrusts his hands out; the stalactites responding by ceasing their slow turning and instead plunging directly through each prisoner’s chest. The screams end abruptly, and for a moment all is silent.

Then the figure turns his hands over and motions pulling back, the stalactites now wrenching themselves out of the prisoners’ chests to hang motionless in mid-air in front of the victims. With one final motion, the figure flings all of the blood-covered stalactites into the nearby pool of blood.

His job apparently finished, the stalactite figure moves to stand beside the other, who begins to smear the thick bloody paste onto each of the stalactites. Then, the stalactite figure kneels down and joins him, the two smearing the disgusting mud carefully onto each stalactite. Kneeling down over the pool, both figures still have their backs to you and Mellita, although now both are off to one side of the cavern. If you wished to move on without confrontation, now would probably be the time to do it, else you may have to wait until the figures finish whatever else they were planning on doing here before leaving themselves.

Private Torture Chambers

Dorizzit/rubakhin

(Hmmm . . . it would seem as if rubakhin is considering joining Engineer on the pain train. Maybe I should stop putting people into two-man teams if one of them is going to run away shortly afterwards. )

“Yes, please do.” The Countess replies, pausing in her pacing to allow you to approach. As you begin to remove your glove, she turns back towards you. “Wait. I have an idea. What if I lured the guards away from their posts? A woman with her hands tied behind her back would hardly be threatening enough for the guards to call for help, surely. And then you could slip past them while they chase after me. Wait, no . . . no, that wouldn’t work. I certainly don’t know this area well enough to lose any guards that chased after me. So they would catch me sooner rather than later, and then I’m caught again and you’re only past the first set of guards. Any ideas?” The Countess asks, chewing on her lower lip again as she nervously awaits a brilliant solution from one of you.

The Labs

Iethloc

Fine, fine, whatever. Let’s just get out of here.

Invoking your spell, you stagger back as the beam of force impacts against the door. As before, the protective runes running all along the door’s surface begin to glow brightly, absorbing the immense energy being thrown against the door. But eventually even these fail, and with the loud screech of tearing metal the adamantite door is blown off its hinges. Ripped free of the door frame, the thick door is shoved back into the room beyond by your ray of force.

With the door now successfully open, you cut off the flow of magic to the spell and watch as the door dips down towards the ground. It hits the ground with one edge and flips over, tumbling end over end through the air. It then lands flat on the ground, crushing some fool who had been standing directly in front of the door.

Through the now-open doorway you can see the typical mad alchemist’s room, long wooden benches full of bubbling alchemical reagents. What did catch your eye, however, was the long row of man-sized glass tubes positioned along one wall. Curved hatches were built into the front of each tube, and six of the ten tubes had their hatches open. Of the remaining four, one was empty, two had apparently lifeless bodies floating inside of them, and the last had its contents blocked from sight by a heavyset man hastily working on its lock.

Pausing momentarily in his work, the man looks over one shoulder to notice you and the destroyed door, visibly gulping as he did so. “Destroy the intruder, my children! Make your father proud!” The man shouts, and an instant later five humanoid forms step into view from either side of the doorway.

Although each possesses the rough shape of a man, the similarities pretty much end there. Impossibly muscular, each walks stooped over like the man-sized monkeys you had heard of from the distant southern lands: gorillas, you believed them to be called. Their heads are shaved bald, revealing the noticeably uneven contours of their skulls as well as their shriveled ears. Their bloodstained eyes bulge out of their sockets, lining up in color with their red irises so perfectly that only their pupils are not a shade of crimson. Each is clad in a simple leather loincloth, although the tatters of clothing hanging from their bodies here and there suggest that once they had possessed additional clothing.

Driving their knuckles into the ground in front of them, they swing their tree-trunk legs forward, leaping through the air to land next to the fallen adamantite door. Bending down, together the five creatures are able to lift it up off the floor, howling in rage when they see the broken and crushed form of one of their own beneath it. Turning their red eyes to glare at you in hate, they heave together as one, throwing the heavy adamantite door back through the doorway and directly at you!

Ritual Chambers

Pwenet

The girl stares at you silently in horror when you reveal your full visage, one hand clasped over her mouth. At your instructions, she silently nods, wrapping both hands around your neck and holding on for dear life as you race down the tunnel once more.

Approaching the room with the bone golem, you hurl the torch at its head, following it up a second later by throwing your mask at the far wall. Its head turned away from the tunnel entrance when you first appear, the bone golem does not notice the torch speeding rapidly towards it until almost too late. With the torch only a few feet from its face, however, the bone golem suddenly notices it and reacts, the tip of its bony tail stabbing up in a blur to smash the torch to splinters. But this accomplishes little, and the burning toothpicks that the torch has been reduced into impact against the creature’s face, blinding its sight in a momentary flash of fire.

A second later, your mask impacts against the far wall, and the bone golem again reacts instantly, leaping towards the source of the sound and stabbing the wall with its tail, followed by raking the wall with both of its bone scythes. Before it can turn back to the sound of your footsteps, you dash out into the cavern, turn, and dash back into the next tunnel over. Strangely, the bone golem does not follow you, merely chasing after you until it reaches the entrance of the tunnel, clacks its teeth together in frustration, and stomps back over to the center of the cavern again to continue scanning for additional intruders.

You have not gone far down the tunnel until you reach the little convoy of black-cloaked figures and chained prisoners. Hearing your approach, they whirl about as one, although if they are genuinely surprised they give no sign.

Indeed this one is powerful to have defeated the bone golem so quickly. Our purpose will not be denied however. You two continue on with the prisoners. Us two shall continue to delay him. The leader hisses, motioning at two of the figures to keep moving while the fourth comes to stand beside him. As he moves to join his leader, the other figure also begins speaking in a monotone, and you are unsure who exactly his comments are directed to.

Intruders identified. One dragon-lord possessed human male, a potential Sacrifice. One human female child . . . unknown aura. Dragon-lord possessed male has greatly increased strength, regenerative properties, and can summon flame. Capabilities of female child unknown. Threat assessment: high, approach with caution.

With the slave chain of prisoners starting to move again under the direction of the other two figures, the leader waves his hand across the corridor. Directly in front of his feet, greenish flames shoot up from the floor, the tips of the flames licking at the ceiling.

[WhiteKnight777]

Umber

Umber snarled silently. This was... unexpected. Whether these mortals knew what they were doing, or they were merely following instructions and dabbling in things beyond their ken, the fact that they had knowledge of that particular symbol at all was... unsettling. On the other hand, he was deep in an enemy fortress, relatively weak, and armed only with paltry weaponry. He sighed, albeit silently. He had a feeling Fate was playing games with him. It did have a habit of doing that. And whatever decision he made, he knew it would probably have unfortunate consequences. Still, he made a decision, and he'd live with it, whatever happened.

Silently he moved out into the cavern, his feet moving with slow, careful grace. Checking one last time to make sure it was clear, he signaled Milletia to come forward. Aiming the crossbow, he went over the motions one last time in his head: Aim for the subordinate's head, take him out with one shot. rush forward before the one that appeared to be leading could react, bash him over the back of the head with the crossbow, hopefully just knocking him out. Direct Milletia to bring the other cultist with them to feed on once they were out of this chamber, and to hide the evidence. Then move on down the corridor, until they found somewhere they could interrogate these fools...

[Dorizzit]

(That is...vexing)

Korram thinks.

He thinks some more.

His eyes snap open as he thinks of a solution. "Alright, I think I have an idea," he says. "If you could go into the first guardroom, and then lead them back here, I could probably kill them before they knew what was happening. If not, I can still probably occupy them enough to prevent them from calling for help." He smiles unpleasantly and raises his flaming arm. "It's a bit risky, but I've pulled off worse. Does that plan work?"

[rubakhin]

(Right, right. ><' Only there's not much for Dima to do.)

"Don't smile when you're talking about killing," Dima chastises. "I'll do what I can. Only, you want her to go down there alone?"