After the blind of anti-magic drops upon the situation, the day looks grim. The sky has rosen a dusty red and the smell of decayed flesh is hanging strong in the air like a part of the place.
Wah decides to deny the impossible and attempts to cast a fireball - which backfires into his own face, with an echo of laugher around him.
"You will not escape!" cried one of the mages, "and how did you get your collar off!"
"Return them to the cell immediately!" screamed an older amge.
Wah struggled as the others too did, someone managed to slit the hands of one of the mages and he retaliated with a hefty scream.
He signalled, what seemed like for more backup and aid. When Wah struck him - his years of undead lich hands, seeping into his bloodstream and instantly paralysing the foolish young mage. Liches were ruthless. An Arch Lich was even more so.
"Let's get out of here".
They were too hopeful as usual. Someone had already raised the alarm: there was a slight creak as several hooded wizards approached from the other side of the corridor.
"We're trapped from both sides!!" muttered Wah.
"YOU ARE CLEVER!!" laughed the leader of the hooded figures, "NOW COME WITH US!"
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