PRISON BREAK
Beyond the building where the vrocks had roosted, the Legion found themselves in a massive chamber with a gaping hole in the north wall, obviously leading outside to the steaming jungle. The open area was strewn with debris and the floor was riddled with cracks connecting to a great rent running the length of the chamber. On the near side of the chasm stood a hastily constructed wall composed of rubble, old flagstones, and rotting body parts. Faces stared out of the stones and wasted hands stuck out as if in greeting. The wall rose some twenty feet before terminating in a row of much-abused heads on spikes that were alive with twitching and scuttling roaches.
“Lovely décor,” Sepoto grumbled.
The company threaded their way through a narrow opening in the wall, and then cautiously started across the debris field, skirting the chasm. Their way was dimly lit by skull-shaped iron lanterns that shed faint fiery light at sporadic intervals along the walls.
On its far side, the chamber gave onto a long, shadowy corridor, running north to south. Directly across it, a large door stood padlocked. From the darkness further down the hall came the constant clinking of chains, punctuated by a cacophony of moans, screams, wails and mad giggling. Mandi nodded towards the door, and Tower Cleaver stepped forward and smashed it in with a single blow from his axe. The stench from the room beyond was staggering. Clearly it was a torture chamber, based on the row of iron maidens, racks, screws and an assortment of other sinister devices. Pools of blood and fluid covered the floor. The walls, and even the ceiling, bore splatters of dripping gore. Most of the equipment was empty, but a few devices held remains of past victims, bodies shuddering with the vermin feasting on the rotten flesh.
“If Lavinia is somewhere in this place,” Sepoto said, “I’m not sure if she’d be better off dead than alive.”
“If she’s come to any harm,” Mandi said in a low voice, “Vanthus Vanderboren will pray for the tender mercies of Demogorgon when I’m done with him.”
“What do you make of this?” Octurus called abruptly from a far corner of the room where he crouched. Mandi walked over and saw that the Maztican had found a severed pair of large, feathery, white wings.
“They’re angelic,” the sorceress observed quietly. “Deva, unless I miss my guess.”
Daelric shuddered, unconsciously folding his own pinions closer to his body.
Sepoto led the group from the chamber of horrors and back out into the corridor. They hadn’t proceeded far when the source of the din became all-too apparent. As far as the eye could see was row upon row of cells. Each consisted of a twenty-foot cube suspended one foot from the floor by a thick adamantine chain that hung from the ceiling. Each cage was also chained to adjacent cells and the floor as well. The vast majority were occupied. Demons, devils, illithids, skeletal liches and decaying mummies huddled within, some rocking back and forth, muttering to themselves, while others rattled their bars, screaming epithets at the Legionnaires, or wailed piteously for release.
“Curious,” Mandi said, tentatively reaching out a hand towards one of the cells before quickly snatching it back. “They’re warded with antimagic. It’s preventing the occupants from using their innate powers to escape. Ingenious!”
“Mandi!” Sepoto called, interrupting her reverie. “There’s something you should see here.”
The cage that the goliath stood before contained a bald, green-skinned figure in soiled, white robes. Beautiful, feathered wings arched from his back, and his eyes glowed silver as he regarded his observers forlornly.
Mandi quirked her mouth, hiding a smirk. “And what, pray tell, has brought one such as you to such a low and wretched state, archon?” she asked.
The celestial lowered his eyes and sighed deeply. “I have been prisoner here for untold decades,” he replied in a musical voice. “I was taken captive during the assault on Occipitus. Adimarchus, the lord of that domain, gave me over to the Demon Prince, and here I have languished ever since.”
Mandi gestured to Tower Cleaver, and the minotaur went to work on the sturdy cell door, smashing it to rubble, though it took him several attempts.
“Well, let it not be said in the Heavens that Ozymandia Enoreth played any role in the suffering of a noble spirit. Go. You are free.”
The archon looked dispiritedly at the open gate and shook his head, wrapping his wings around his knees. “No, my doom is here. I’m no longer worthy of my home. Leave me in peace.”
He turned his back to them then, squaring his shoulders. Mandi gazed at him for a long moment before shrugging.
“Suit yourself, friend, but be warned: your new home many not be standing much longer if we have anything to say about it.”
_________________________________________________________
After traversing the maze of cell cages, the company found themselves at one end of a massive, forty-foot wide corridor, pierced on either side by a number of side passages made by the gaps between the gently swaying cells. In a row along the center of the corridor rose four, twelve-foot tall iron statues of armored demonic warriors. Braziers spewing smokeless green flames hung from the ceiling between the statues shedding a sickly light. Strolling down the middle of the hall were eight large, frog-like demons, laughing among themselves as they tormented the prisoners in the cages they passed. Abruptly, they caught sight of the Legionnaires and stopped dead in their tracks, staring as if they couldn’t quite comprehend what they were seeing. Then, evil grins began to split their leering faces and they crouched low, claws flexing in anticipation of tearing into the flesh of what they assumed were escapees.
“Ready?” Sepoto asked, turning to Octurus and Tower Cleaver. The Maztican nodded while the minotaur merely snorted and began stalking towards the approaching demons. Cleaver hefted his axe as he closed within a few paces of the lead hezrou, but at that moment, a gut-wrenching stench assailed his sensitive nostrils, wafting in a noxious cloud from the disgusting fiends. Involuntarily, Cleaver’s four stomachs clenched simultaneously and he began to heave violently, spewing emesis on the floor before him as he collapsed to one knee. Behind him, Sepoto cursed. The miasmic aroma assailed him as well, but he managed to swallow his rising gorge and surged forward. As his chain whipped out and struck the first hezrou, a flash of white energy exploded from the weapon, buffeting the rest of the demon’s in a cascading fusillade of power. The hezrous fell back a pace, but then, as they shook off the effects of the crusader’s blow, several of them focused their own energy, striking at the helpless Tower Cleaver with chaotic hammer blows of multi-colored energy that pummeled the minotaur to both knees.
Sepoto prepared to retaliate, but as he did so, he caught a flicker of movement from one of the side passages behind the hezrous. It was the same red-skinned woman that had harassed them as they battled the vrocks. As he turned towards her, however, she ducked back into the shadows and he lost sight of her.
“We’ve got company again!” he shouted. “The demon-bitch is back, but I can’t see her. Daelric, any help?”
“In a second,” the priest replied. “I’ve got my hands full right now!” Concentrating on Cleaver, Daelric spoke a quick prayer, and immediately the minotaur’s gastric distress subsided. Snorting in rage, the barbarian surged to his feet.
“Now then,” Daelric said, turning towards Sepoto and weaving another minor miracle about the crusader. “Just close your eyes,” he instructed the goliath, “and all will be made clear.”
Sepoto did so, and found that he could still see, although his ‘vision’ was more akin to that of a bat, perceiving sounds as images rather than light. Dodging through the pack of hezrous, he ran towards the side passage and peered down it. Sure enough, the woman was there, crouched among the thick shadows. When she saw him, she smiled, baring finely pointed teeth, and sketched a small bow.
“Another time then, warrior,” S’Sharra laughed, and promptly vanished.
Meanwhile, Octurus and Cleaver had positioned themselves back-to-back among the surrounding hezrous, and despite being bombarded again and again by the Abyssal power of the demons, the two warriors began to quickly even the odds. Great swings from Cleaver’s axe, hacking through two or three of the demons at a time, where matched by flurries of precision swordsmanship on the part of the demon hunter. In short order, the dead fiends lay stacked like cordwood around the lethal duo, while Mandi looked on in feigned boredom. Two more unseen observers watched as well from among the shadows atop the pillars. As the last of the hezrou fell, the skulkers vanished without a sound. Their master must be warned.
____________________________________________________________
Kululblax snarled as the two babau demons informed him of what had transpired in the corridor outside his chambers. The glabrezu had known it would only be a matter of time before Demogorgon sent his minions to check up on how well the warden had been maintaining the prison. By now, they had surely seen the sorry state to which he had let Divided’s Ire fall, and no doubt intended to deliver their summary judgment upon him as they had his guards. This was all that whore S’Sharra’s doing, he thought. She’d been spying on him from the day she’d arrived, and now she’d brought the Prince of Demon’s wrath down upon him. Snarling again in rage he closed one of his massive pincer-like claws around the neck of the hapless eladrin he held in his grip and pinched off its head as the door to his quarters was suddenly slammed open.
“You will not take my prison!” the massive glabrezu screamed at the intruders. “I know you are working for her!”
“If by ‘her’ you mean me,” Mandi said, stepping in front of Tower Cleaver, “then you’re right. They do work for me, and I work for Lavinia Vanderboren. If you’re holding her here, you would be wise to give her into my custody while you are still able.”
Kululblax screamed in rage, hurling the body of his latest victim to the floor as he drew two large axes from his belt.
“I’ll take that as a negative,” Mandi nodded, then flung out her hands and made a clawing, tearing motion with them as she spat out the words to a vile incantation. Kululblax felt a sudden, wrenching agony grip him, and before his eyes, the blood vessels in his body exploded out of him in a gory, spraying mass. The vasculature collapsed at his feet, still attached to his body in a web-like mesh, tangling his feet with their viscosity and rooting him in place.
“That’s just…gross,” Sepoto said in disgust as he moved into the room. “Whoops!” he exclaimed, as his still-enhanced vision picked out the two babaus crouched on either side of the door. “Missed those.”
With a blur of motion, he swung his axe across the neck of the nearest demon, snapping it with a satisfying crack. Once he pointed out the location of the second, Octurus made quick work of that one as well. Then both stood aside as Tower Cleaver strode purposefully towards the demon enmeshed in his own entrails.
Kululblax saw his death approaching, but he was by no means going to succumb without a fight. As the minion of Baphamet came closer, the glabrezu summoned his own magic, reversing the pull of gravity beneath Cleaver’s feet, causing the minotaur to ‘fall’ towards the ceiling, where he struck several jagged spikes placed there for just that purpose. Momentarily confused, Cleaver climbed to his feet, finding himself standing on the ceiling and now literally eye-to-eye with the glabrezu. Not liking being made to feel foolish, the barbarian deftly caught a flurry of swings from Kululblax’s axes on the haft and blade of his own, then just as quickly countered, swinging savagely at the demon’s neck and head. Kululblax never had a chance. As the final blow fell, he collapsed atop his innards, the veritable ‘cherry on top’ of the gruesome tableau.
______________________________________________________________
An inspection of all the cellblocks turned up fruitless. It was too much to hope that Lavinia would be found so easily. The entire eastern portion of Divided’s Ire seemed designed to hold the rank-and-file prisoners, which meant, to Mandi’s thinking, that the more important, or dangerous ones would be found on the far side of the caldera.
A massive pair of doors in the corridor beyond Kululblax’s chambers led outside. Stretching across the gap between the islands was a wide stone bridge, old and riddled with cracks and fractures. At intervals on either side stood stone statues of robed women, their hands extended down to the sea as if beseeching someone for help. Their eyes dripped blood.
“I don’t trust the sturdiness of that span,” Sepoto remarked, looking dubiously at the worn architecture of the bridge.
“It’s stood for centuries, no doubt,” Mandi said with a shrug, “and it’s likely to last a few more minutes, but if it will ease your mind, we can all fly across.”
The others nodded in agreement, and each prepared their own modes of locomotion: Mandi uttered a brief spell, and a pair of bat-like wings sprouted from her back; Daelric unfurled his own feathery pinions; Gregor’s body morphed into the large condor that was his form of choice for flight; and Sepoto, Tower Cleaver and Octurus each quaffed an elixir, and then rose several feet above the cracked pavings.
They had traversed no more than fifty feet of the span, the air around them filled with smoke and ash, the roar of the volcano and the sea far below filling their ears, when Octurus stopped dead, his head cocked and listening. For a brief moment the sharp-eared Maztican had thought he’d heard the flapping of wings, and not just those of his comrades. As he turned from side to side, scanning the gloom, he spied several shadowy shapes moving through the haze. Before he could open his mouth to warn his companions, the demons swooped in. They were lanky creatures with leathery wings, gargoyle-like heads with glowing yellow eyes and great mouths filled with fangs, and tough, weathered black and gray skins. Octurus put name to them only because he’d seen Mandi assume similar forms on multiple occasions…nabassus.
“Watch out!” he cried as he leaped over the edge of the bridge, the tiger tattoo on his bicep roaring to life. Like a great cat himself, he dove towards the nearest demon, pouncing upon it with both blades. The nabassu was horribly fast, however, faster than Octurus had ever seen a creature move. Its claws a blur, it dodged, blocked and parried his best blows, all save one, and even as that thrust sank home, the demon hunter was dismayed to see the wound rapidly begin to close. Pushing itself away from the Maztican, the nabassu grinned evilly, looked down at the gulf below them and waggled a cautionary finger. With the barest of mental efforts, it conjured a dispelling field around Octurus. In an instant, the dweomer that allowed him to fly vanished, and he began to fall.
Mandi knew all-too-well what nabassus were capable of. That was why she’d chosen to wear their form so often. One of them flapped towards her, black fire crackling around its hand. In desperation, the sorceress struck out, sending a powerful Rebuke towards the demon, power which seized its heart and stopped it instantaneously. Silently, the fiend spiraled out of sight towards the water below.
Too late, Sepoto saw what happened to Octurus just as he himself flew out to face another of the demons. The nabassu before him laughed wickedly and performed the same trick its brother had. Sepoto plummeted through the mist and smoke.
Tower Cleaver looked left and right. In a matter of seconds, his two shield brothers had been eliminated. The minotaur knew that if he made a move towards the flying demons, his fate would be the same. He and the remainder of his companions were surrounded, and the fiends were hurling magic at will. Cleaver felt something he’d never felt before…helplessness. Animal fear began to creep over him, and before he could think about what he was doing, he began to run as fast as he could across the span of the bridge, losing sight of his friends and foes quickly in the roiling smoke.
“In the name of All that is Holy, what’s happening here!?” Daelric shouted. Only he, Gregor and Mandi were left, and the three remaining nabassu were closing fast.
“What does it look like?” Mandi growled. “We’re losing! Do something if you want any hope of getting out of this alive!”
Daelric swallowed hard, gathered what courage he could muster and focused on one of the approaching demons, praying to Shaundekal for power, and forgiveness for his past sins. As the fiend drew nearer, the priest unleashed a bolt of blinding, glorious white light. The nabassu shrieked as its flesh burned and blistered. Hissing and spitting as it clawed at its wounds, it retaliated with its own magic. The area surrounding Daelric, Gregor and Mandi went as silent as a tomb, preventing the spellcasters from speaking their words to their prayers and incantations.
Tower Cleaver saw the end of the bridge looming ahead, and a second pair of doors leading into the building beyond. As he drew near, however, a large form loomed up directly in front of him. It looked like a large gargoyle, with powerful wings and thick, green skin. It had four powerful arms and a vaguely canine head with horns and small, webbed ears.
“Going somewhere, big fella?” the demon leered, brandishing a large axe gripped in two of its hands.
Daelric was well aware of the limitations of a Silence spell, and knew that it had definite boundaries. He just had to keep moving until he found them. Backpeddaling as fast as he could, he stopped when he could once more hear the roar of the caldera. Calling on Shaundekal again, he hurled another of the searing bolts at the nabassu, and this time he was rewarded by the creature burning to cinders in mid-air.
Meanwhile, Mandi and Gregor had also found the edges of the silent interdiction, and Mandi turned her attention towards another of the demons, forcing it to begin a mad, frantic dance, kippering and prancing like a puppet on a string. Simultaneously, Gregor sent a lance of razor-sharp ice at the last nabassu, while Daelric blasted it with a third bolt. The demon wavered for a moment, but then an explosive ball of fire enveloped it, cast by Mandi’s smoking hand, and its ashes drifted away to join those of the volcano.
Just then, the pounding of hooves on the bridge drew Mandi’s attention away from the dancing demon she was preparing to finish off. From out of the smoke came the charging form of Tower Cleaver, a huge demonic figure hot on his heels. Mandi recognized Cleaver’s pursuer as a nycaloth, one of a powerful group of demons that sold their services to demon lords as mercenaries. Cleaver was right to run. However, just as the barbarian drew close to Mandi, he turned to face the nycaloth, axe raised defensively.
“Cleaver, no!” Mandi shouted, but it was too late. The nycaloth drove into the minotaur like a battering ram, slamming the butt of its axe into Cleaver’s gut, then reversing it to drive the blade down upon his shoulder. Cleaver staggered, but did not fall. Instead, he crouched low and cut swiftly upward with his own axe, reversing it, then swinging laterally again. Great rents opened in the nycaloth’s flesh as it roared in anger.
“Damn it, do I have to do everything?!” Mandi shouted, as she prepared to make short work of the demonic mercenary.
“Mandi, behind you!” came a warning shout from Daelric. The sorceress spun, but she was a fraction of a second too slow. The nabassu she had ensorcelled had broken free from the dance, and as she turned, a blast of black energy struck her. She felt cold penetrate to her soul as the negative power feasted on her life force. Worse, she felt its tendrils creep into her mind, driving the memory of her most powerful dweomers from her psyche.
Tower Cleaver took a step towards the nycaloth, but Gregor’s commanding shout stopped him.
“Leave it!” the druid barked. “Mandi needs your help! I’ll take care of this one!”
Cleaver hesitated for a moment, but he saw the sense of Gregor’s tactics. As he turned away, however, the nycaloth struck again, opening a deep gash in his thigh. Cleaver didn’t’ stop. Limping badly, he lurched into the air towards the nabassu, knowing the he might be only seconds away from falling to his death. The demon was too intent on Mandi, however, and did not see the charging minotaur until it was too late. One swipe from Cleaver’s axe beheaded the fiend.
True to his word, Gregor faced the raging nycaloth and called on the power of Silvanus. From out of thin air, a great comet of ice and rock hurtled towards the demon, burying it in an avalanche of debris. As it tried to rise, a sizzling bolt of lightning from Mandi’s outstretched hand roasted it where it stood.
“Payback’s a bitch!” the sorceress hissed.
________________________________________________________
Far below the bridge, but still a thousand feet or more above the crashing surf, Sepoto and Octurus, separately and unseen by each other, managed to fish vials from their belt pouches and quickly quaff them, arresting their descent as new dweomers took hold. As far as each of them knew, they were alone in the miasma of smoke and ash, with no idea of what had befallen their comrades. Slowly, they began the long ascent back towards the bridge.
_________________________________________________________
Grishnag and Gorbag looked at each other as their brother fell to the escaped prisoners. The three of them had been watching the battle between the mortals and the hated nabassu with amusement, but when the minotaur had fled, Yrch had been unable to restrain himself and had flown off to have some fun…and had paid for his mistake. Now the two remaining nycaloths, by mutual agreement, decided that play time was over. The nabassus had sufficiently thinned the numbers of the inmates and weakened those remaining. The pickings should be easy this time. Silently, the mercenaries took wing.
___________________________________________________________
From her hidden vantage point, S’Sharra watched the battle as well, and she to took great pleasure from the outcome. These so-called heroes were not the threat her master thought them to be. She felt certain that they would defeat the two stupid nycaloths, but at a price, and she would be there to collect when the final chips fell…
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Still, a prison makes entries for new PCs easy and plausible. 
