Camilla felt her fingertips grow cold at the strange roar. She looked around the group, still mostly dead on thier feet, and wondered if they really had any chance of reaching the altar. Dietricha seemed to be stirring, her eyelids fluttered and a trail of blood ran from her right nostril. It seemed extremely unlikely that the wizard would be able to transport them with her magic. Camilla let out a weary sigh. The odds might be poor, but there was no chance they would remain hidden long enough to regain their strength and for the next few minutes they would at least hold the element of surprise. She squeezed Cydric’s hand.

“Lets go and may Myrmidia be with us.”

They crept out of the passageway Cydric had found and into what seemed to Camilla like an immense amphitheatre. There were scores of tiers each constructed of tesselated black obsidian. At the bottom of the circular chamber, nearly fifty feet below was a floor of black volcanic sand. An altar of brass and red marble was located in the center. Horned dwarf things in long robes stood in a circle. Great brass braziers blazed with fire that seemed to bubble like lava. A great lion headed beast, its dark pelt black with blood stood upon the altar. One of the dark priests painted sigils onto its skin with blood drawn from a bowl. As the bowl emptied it was passed to another priest. A line of prisoners, mostly orcs and goblins, were being lead to the altar. One by one the prisoners were pushed to their knees and their throat slit to fill the bowl. All the while the priests chanted and the crowd roared.

“There are at least a dozen priests on the altar, plus the… monster whatever it is,” Camilla reported. Ivan, with surprising stealth, crept to the portal and peered down. He was shaking his head when he returned.

“Mehbe wan or two handred in ze seat, too many,” he confirmed.

“We could try a rush,” Konrad ventured. Another roar echoed from the chamber and the Imperial’s knuckles tightened on the leather wrapped hilt of his sword. Skaldi scoffed.

“Aye lad, all we have to do is make it down there and its home free, except for the wizards and the monster and several hundred filthy Dawi-zharr at our backs,” Skaldi snapped. Konrad’s face reddened and he took a step towards the dwarf, fist balling.

“I am not afraid master dwarf if you would rather…”

“Are you calling me a coward manling!?”


Cydric stepped between the two holding up a palm to Skaldi, his face stern.

“For Sigmar sake shut up and think!” Cydric snapped. Yantz peeked out into the ampipheter and glanced back at them. His face was pale but he seemed more in control than Konrad. His eyes flickered constantly around, never leaving the drowsy Dietricha for long.

“The slaves,” Yantz declared. The party fell silent and looked at the Imperial mercenary.

“I can see a way into the slave pens. If I know anything its fighting green skins, if we can set them free I’d be my bollocks to a barn dance they tear this place appart or die trying,” he explained. Camilla nodded her head slowly liking the notion.

“Oh aye, they’ll tear the place appart, starting with us the moment we free them,” Skaldi sneered.

“We throw a couple of knives in there,” Camilla decided, rubbing her hands together at the notion of an even partly tenable plan.

“By the time the dwarves realised what is going on, enough of them will be free. We can use the confusion to rush the altar like Herr Konrad suggests.” She looked at Cydric questioningly.

“What do you think?” 
[@POOHEAD189]