Time to use that speed

The scene before you is like something out of a nightmare, as you scan the area and gingerly try to rub life back into your limbs. A wall of clawing limbs and twisted metal dimly lit by two sconces mounted nearby holding smoky torches. The noise is horrendous, the howls, growls and yells from the small horde of orcs surrounding you and merging with the continual grinding noise from the remnants of moving machinery scattered on the floor nearby. Meanwhile the screeches of tortured iron, as the orcs continue to work and loosen the cage moorings, are now in counterpoint to several whistles and clanging bells echoing throughout the complex. You assume this is as much to do with the rioting foes around you, as your own recent escape from the machine. The remaining torches flicker, diminished by the pile of orcs which have dislodged several of them, but added to by something glowing in the background which goes on and off in time with the urgent clangs. In short, chaos reigns.

You have lost track of the small orb which was circling you and wonder if it has been damaged or withdrawn to a safer position. Is it still watching? It is impossible to hear its telltale noises amongst the clamour. In any case it seems as if the time to move is now, before guards arrive or your Jester friend returns. You may never have a better chance.

You scan the crowd, shifting carefully amongst the loose debris across the stone floor. The smaller orcs are still giving the largest a wide birth where he strains to lift the end of the cage wall. All the same the smallest are almost able to slip under the widening gap further along. You stride over and slam your heel into one face which ventures through, whilst nimbly avoiding the hands which reach for you and sending the unfortunate reeling away into his comrades. The respite will not be long.

An idea comes to you but it is a gamble. Your options are limited though and so you quickly dash to the ruined bench. You manage to locate and prise loose a few scraps of metal rod and a cog the size of your fist. Your heart is thumping in your chest as you move back to the front of the cage. Your first missile clangs against the bars below the gap you are aiming. The nearest orcs jeer at you, assuming they are the target. You ignore them and throw again, yelling in delight as a shower of sparks rains down from a torch. The darkness presses in further. There are growls and renewed energy from the crowd of bodies, realising finally your goal. You swing another kick and connect firmly with an ear on an encroaching head, before stamping onto the wrist of one particularly long arm. When both withdraw hurriedly you plant your feet and hurl your last missile.

The room descends into all but pitch darkness with a final burst of red sparks from the falling torch. The on-off flicker from deeper in the room merely deepens the shadows periodically, and your first move is slide to the far side of the cage and creep carefully amongst the darkness. You time your run carefully as the the orcs begin to swarm beneath the wrecked cage. With a roar the orc champion lifts his end almost level with his head and partially crushes it against the low ceiling.

You have rarely felt more **** than crouched in the shadows watching the trickle and then flood of naked bodies into the small space. All wanting to overwhelm you, make you theirs. In moments you will be spotted and taken down… Quick as a flash you dodge into a gap and hurl yourself under the jagged metal, biting down on a cry as you feel something score across your back. Shouts of confusion and disappointment are coming from your former prison. The hunt will soon be on! But for now you are free, relatively speaking. Heart pounding, you slip away under the nearest heavy curtain and stumble blindly into the darkness beyond.