“It’s a deep dark dank pit into which you throw things you do not wish to ever come back out,” Tizzy replied as they hustled down a corridor that Tom had never taken before.
“It is that,” Arg-nargoloth said, whapping Tizzy on the back of the head. “But in this case, it’s also the control center and access point for the basement.”
“The basement?” Tom asked. He thought he had explored almost all of the Doomplex; he had not encountered a basement. “We live in a volcano, underground. How can there be a basement to an underground lair, which is basically a basement to begin with?”
Up ahead, Völund shook his head in annoyance. “You just dig deeper!”
“But there are lava flows, chambers and all sorts of hot primordial goo underneath this place!” Tom protested.
“Well, you pretty much nailed it with the primordial part,” Tizzy said as they hurried along, going deeper and further downward at a quick pace. “That was a key ingredient. Takes primordial goo to trap and contain primordial beings.”
“Contain primordial beings?” Tom asked. “You mean like a prison or something? A dungeon?”
“No, the dungeon is off of the DoomSpa! For obvious reasons!” Tizzy said shaking his head at Tom for missing the obvious.
“ ‘Prison’ is a mostly accurate term, although truly accurate would be ‘containment facility,’ ” Phaestus said, appearing from a side corridor and joining their trek.
“A containment facility?” Tom asked, concerned. “What are we containing?”
“Those whom the gods never want to see again!” Tizzy exclaimed.
“Amazing that you’ve avoided the place for so long!” Arg-nargoloth snorted.
Phaestus shook his head. “Trite, but basically true. It’s a prison containment facility I and a few others designed and built here several thousand years before we built Mount Doom.”
“And there are prisoners in it?” Tom asked, very puzzled. Who was maintaining it? Feeding the prisoners? The place had been unpowered for millennia!
“Yes, in a suspended state. Actually, several different types of suspended states, depending on the prisoner,” Phaestus replied.
“Why didn’t they escape when the volcano went to sleep?” Tom asked.
“Different power source. Completely independent and redundant,” Völund stated.
“So there is a super-secret prison underneath Mount Doom, and no one has mentioned this to me?” Tom asked in frustration. This was the sort of crap he needed to know! Hello!
“Well, it’s not exactly a secret. Just about everyone knows about it, but very few people know where it is,” Tizzy stated.
“So are you saying its famous? It’s a well-known prison?” Tom asked.
Phaestus nodded. “Yeah. Most people refer to it as Tartarus.”
“Tartarus?” Tom exclaimed. “You mean like the place where Zeus trapped the Titans?” He was nearing a small freak-out. “And now one of the Titans is trying to escape?”
“See, and you said you had never heard of it!” Tizzy said, grinning.
Hilda finished unloading the picnic basket of meat, cheese and wine she had quickly gathered from her home for the nightly meeting in Tierhallon. They were meeting a bit early this evening, shortly after Beragamos, Hilda and Stevos had departed from Murgatroy for the night. They had taken a small break to clean up and let Moradel and Sentir Fallon finish up other business they had been working on.
Beragamos sighed with pleasure as he surveyed the night’s refreshments. “My dear, this is such a relief from that nasty food and drink in Murgatroy.”
Moradel chuckled. “I seem to recall it was your decision to get back into field work.” He grinned at the Supreme Archon. “From what I have heard of the gastronomic sacrifices you have had to make, I am very happy it was neither my suggestion, nor request, nor myself.”
Beragamos chuckled. “For all my complaints, it is nice to get back in the field, even with all its hardships. We do get rather complacent up here.”
Stevos chuckled. “You must admit that Hilda’s knowledge of fine food, and her wine cellar, significantly highlight the differences between here and the Planes of Man.”
Moradel had finished pouring the wine and set the bottle down, saying with a smile, “I will drink to that!” They clinked their refleca-crystal wine glasses and drank. “Exquisite as always, my dear.”
“Seriously, Beragamos, you need to file paperwork to have Hilda promoted to patron saint of wine and spirits!” Moradel smiled, nodding at Hilda in appreciation.
Stevos twisted his face in concentration, as if counting. “I think we have about twenty-two or three of those. Two in Astlan, in fact.”
“Oh.” Moradel sounded disappointed. “Well, back to the drawing board. Maybe we can come up with something appropriate but unique.”
“Patron Saint of Espionage, perhaps?” Sentir asked. “That is something we have never had, but which has been incredibly successful!” He raised his glass in salute to Hilda, who blushed.
“Indeed, Tiernon himself has granted her an audience to learn of her work,” Beragamos said.
Moradel nodded appreciatively. “A well-deserved honor. To Hilda!” He raised his glass in another toast.
“So how are things going in Murgatroy?” Sentir Fallon asked.
Beragamos looked to Hilda and Stevos and then said, “I think we have gathered about as much information as we can at this point. We will need more incidents to go much further.”
“What happened to that walking sword, Ruiden?” Sentir Fallon asked curiously.
“He seems to have disappeared; we have not seen him since he ran off.” Hilda shook her head.
“I have searched the area for him, but have neither seen nor magically detected anything,” Stevos added.
“Very bizarre.” Moradel shook his head. “So what are you proposing to do now?”
Beragamos said, “We are thinking that Hilda should return to Freehold, as shall I very temporarily, and Stevos will work with his illuminaries to try to detect any more orcish or D’Orcish activity. Teragdor will be our primary contact and on-the-ground agent. We don’t want to reveal ourselves and our subterfuge to any more priests than necessary.”
Moradel nodded. “Good thinking.”
Stevos said, “He is going to keep the room at the inn for the moment, and look for a more secure permanent location in Murgandy to serve as a more formal base of operations. We’ll want a secure, consecrated location where we can meet and discuss the situation. The room at the inn is far less than ideal and if we ward it up too much, it looks very suspicious.”
“If a suitable location can be found, I would consider fortifying it with far more than the standard consecration. Feel free to help him enhance both its magical and physical security,” Moradel said.
“Do we have any Rod members in the area who could be assigned as Wardens?” Sentir Fallon asked.
“A good idea, but I fear that might attract too much attention,” Moradel said.
“Could we somehowconvince a Rod member to go undercover?” Beragamos asked.
“That would seem a very unusual request to make,” Moradel said.
Sentir frowned and said, “Yet Hilda did exactly that.”
“Well, I did reveal myself to him. When you get a direct request from your patron saint, who just healed you and freed you from the chains your leaders placed on you, it is rather difficult to turn down the opportunity.”
Sentir coughed and then chuckled. “Point well taken.” He raised his glass to Hilda as the others also chuckled.
The gonging continued as they made their way down the very long steep corridor. It was more like a downward spiraling tunnel, Tom thought. “Downward spiraling” also described the emotional mood he was in. Every time he started thinking he was getting a grasp on his new reality, another rung would break beneath him, dropping him even further into the madness. No wonder Tizzy was insane!