It was often said that one should take care, because he who ruled death had a sense of humor. As the adept crawled from the pile of corpses he mused upon that. His vision was blurred and shaking, his legs refused to function. The few spells he'd had left he'd already cast upon himself to stymie the bleeding gut wound, enough to keep him alive, but only just.

The rioters had been inept at checking the bodies for signs of death, or they simply didn't care, and this man had somehow slipped between the cracks. He prayed, begging the goddess of life for aid, for some help, but he sensed none. No he sensed something else entirely.

Upon the upper floors there was a palpable tang in the air of blood and death, and to those who listened, the faint sound of a young man laughing. This bode poorly, poorly for the adept, poorly for The Tower, poorly for everyone. Legends spoke of the laughter, the Laughter of Veteo, the younger twin of Vitala and God of Death.

He wasn't evil, not like the dark gods, but that didn't mean that his jokes were kind, particularly to those who served his sister. Veteo cared not if you were good, or evil, or strong, or weak, death came for all. The kindly and gentle often found that his servants, or in some cases the deity himself would laugh and joke with them about the fun parts of their lives as he led them to their destination. The evil were laughed at, being told how exactly they'd erred, and lambasted for it.

There was movement at the edges of the adepts blurred sight and he turned to see a small slime, one of many, slip out of a crack and fall upon the pile of corpses. As he drug his broken body away, the creature feasted on the carrion, and it began to change. It grew, and split, and the color went from pure black to mottled with green, with bits and pieces of the many bodies poking out here and there.

In a panic the man crawled, trying to escape, trying to get away from whatever that thing was becoming, but it was all for naught. He was still far from the stairs when the creatures, now many more than the first, finished their meal and mutation and began pursuit of the nearest living thing.

As the wave of slime rolled over him, crushing, breaking, burning, it barely paused. The adept's body was spat back out as the oozes prowled forward. Then it stood up, flesh dripping from bones and walked after them, the footprints in its wake bubbling ever so slightly on the cold flagstones.

Thana Mourningjay

We were blazing though the floors, only barely stopping to open up the cells as we went and release more of the prisoners. That was important, because we still wanted the numbers, but it was slowing us down.

“Fuck it,” Opcan eventually said. “Give the keys to the back-line and have them crack the cages, we can't waste more time on this.”

“May have needed the rest, but the bastards screwed us bad,” Harkan observed, looking into the nearby empty storeroom.

Over the course of the night it looked like every single storeroom had been stripped. It was a smart move in case we managed to break their line, but one that wasn't good for us. It meant that there were no more weapons up for grabs, no more easy to get armor, and no extra magical items for us to steal. The goodies we had were all the goodies we were going to get. Add to that the fact that their last stand this morning had taken so much out of us and we were struggling. Heck, some of the first floors we'd taken after that battle hadn't even had any prisoners on them, the whole lot having been evacuated in the darkness.

The only thing I'd gotten in the last little bit was a small bag of gold and gems, another of Opcan's 'gifts' so that I had money when we left. It wasn't worth jack until then, but I did intend to buy an obscene amount of sweets, so it would eventually serve a purpose.

Milo looked at me. “Ideas on materials?' he asked.

“Frankly no,” I responded. “It's weird though isn't it? There's nobody here, other than a few more barricades with bowmen that ran after the first volley there's just nothing. It's like they're handing over The Tower.”

Milo Greyson

“They aren't, no way they're just rolling over,” I responded. I'd only met the warden a few times, but he'd made an impression, and from that I knew he'd do what he could to stop us.

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There was also the fighting outside. From the windows we could see that there were still men on the courtyard walls, and the fighting was fierce. The cagey old man was up to something, we just didn't know what yet.

“Let's keep going,” I leaned and whispered. “And be ready to try and escape, something's up. Keep a spell or two in reserve if you can.” She nodded and we continued with the descent.

Their plan got even more confusing as we broke down below the tenth floor. All of the minimum security prisoners were gone, every one. I wasn't even sure where they were moving them all. It seemed insane that so many could just disappear. Were they putting them in the lowest floors? There was no way even the guards could arm that many people.

It wasn't until we got to the fifth that we found our first sign of people. There was a stout looking blockage before the hospital wing, the best built I'd seen and the most armed. It wasn't even in the way of us, but we stopped regardless.

“Don't attack!” A voice, feminine yelled from behind the makeshift wall. “We're no threat, just leave us be.”

“That's a lot of weapons for not being a threat,” one of ours yelled. The sorcerer wasn't giving them his direct location, seemed a good way to get a belly full of bolts.

“We're protecting those too injured to move, please, just leave us. If you pass by peacefully we won't be any threat to you, on Vitala's name!” I couldn't see the woman, but for almost everyone who worked here that was a pretty strong oath.

“We will send a representative!” Opcan had one of his proxies yell. “If you're only the injured and their guard we'll pass. If you lie you'll all be tortured to death.” Afterwards he gave me a sinister smile, to which I only nodded. I was clearly the disposable canary in the coal mine.

I began to step forward, only to be joined by my ward. She didn't ask, didn't say anything, just moved up beside me. I could see the mage grimacing behind us as her undead stood nearby, waiting for their mistress to return.

Past the ranks of spear-men who stared at us like we were a mix of the worst trash and death incarnate we found the door to the infirmary. It was clear instantly that they'd planned a tiered defense of that door, and also that they'd spoken the truth. The guards here were younger and looked terrified, most were also sporting wounds all along their bodies. All the beds were taken, some wounds we'd probably inflicted, some looked like they were from the Corians or their monsters.

“Milo? Milo Greyson?” The head of the infirmary said as we entered. “What, what in the world are you doing with those barbarians?” She took a few seconds to look me over before her eyes fell on the one beside me. “And you...” she looked conflicted. “I suppose all the undead are your doing?”

“Nope, can't cast that spell. All of that mess is Opcan.” The healer's lips pulled back a bit in disgust at that name. “Yeah, I feel the same way, but being that he seems the only direction out of here that doesn't involve me being killed I'm dealing with it.”

“If you tell him we're no threat I might be able to speak to the warden, perhaps there could be some mercy,” she tried to bargain, not that she was a threat.

“The warden can put on all his heaviest armor and jump headfirst into the nearest cesspit for all I care. That said,” she went and poked a few of the people, seeming to look for illusions. “While the majority of the staff of this place make me want to puke, killing you lot seems like a waste of time.”

“Not all of those here are bad,” I pointed out to the girl. “But I do agree that the paladins have lost their way. What I've seen in the last two days has been cruelty from them that I'd never have expected, and coldness which should never have been. If it hadn't been so, perhaps all of this would never have happened.” I left it at that, not truly willing to tell this woman that I was responsible for the whole mess.

I did feel that guilt though. It was my stopping the execution of Thana that had released the first ripple that had become the wave of death that it now was. How many had died because of that choice? Far too many for me to guess, and more would yet in all likelihood. Would I change it though, knowing what I know now? I was unsure, because I still believed the girl didn't deserve to die. How to reconcile that with how many other undeserving had died was the issue. Perhaps I could have found another way.

“I-I'm sorry you feel that way Milo. Will you ask them to pass by though? We can't fight that many and these men are helpless.”

“Why not heal them?” I asked, a bit confused on that point.

“Because I'm out, there's nothing left! Every healing scroll and wand on every floor has been used already and all of our casters are empty or damn near it! Do you know how many died fighting the Corians yesterday? Or your riot for that matter? There's nothing left, nothing at all!”

“I'm sorry,” I said, eyes lowered. “We'll tell them you can stay.” I shot a glance at Thana.

“I already said I was fine with leaving them,” she said, shrugging.

As we turned from the relieved cleric to the door the sound of yelling rang out from the hall, followed by the sounds of battle. I was the first to turn back around, back upon the woman in charge.

“A trap?” I asked with a growl.

“After all that, after we were willing to just go on by and leave you, you pull this shit!?” Thana hissed.

“It wasn't!” She said, raising her hands. “I swear it, it wasn't!”

Warden Lightstone

I led my men in prayer, our heads bowed and each voice repeating calmly. All here were volunteers, each man had offered to stay, to give his life in this place. Around us the atrium echoed. It had been hardly an hour before that the last of those I could evacuate to the upper floors had taken the sealed staircase, and I now prayed for them.

We were all going to die, all of us who'd stayed behind accepted this fact. Either the prisoners loosed would take us, or the Corians, when they finally got tired of playing around and broke in. They hadn't yet, even though I'd been pulling men back; my guess is they were prepping to deal with our final stand.

What few prisoners had been on the lower floors were to be taken up to their Judgment, and that would be that. Most would survive if I had to guess, and they, along with those freed earlier in the battle and what guards had escorted them had but one final order from me.

Surrender. When the Corians came as they must, all of those above would surrender, lay down their arms, and live. The prisoners were forgiven once they'd seen Judgment, and that was that.

My group had only one order as well. The maximum security prisoners, those who'd led this revolt, the necromancer, they had to die. We couldn't let them out into the world again, allow that disaster loose against anyone, they all had to die, there could be no other end. We would die with them, but in doing so we would protect the world to our last breaths.

There was a sound and the door to the staircase up, a door that was supposed to be sealed from the inside burst open. A woman, one of the prisoners who'd been aiding us nearly fell out, her eyes wild with fear. She bolted as soon as she found her feet, heading for the exit door at a sprint.

“RUN!” She yelled as she passed, disturbing our prayer and drawing all eyes. “RUN!!!!!” Before she'd even reached her hoped point of egress another appeared, equally panicked.