sense something the moment I gain the top stair of the uppermost Prison level: rage. Rage, and a terrible malice. It drips off the stone walls, chills my flesh, and makes my skin crawl. Terrible things have happened here. The light is dimmer now, somehow diminished by the malevolence of the creature that dwells here, that waits somewhere for me. This will be the greatest challenge I've faced so far on Wraeclast.

This uppermost floor of the ancient jail bears the scars of a monstrous rampage. The walls are gouged and splintered in many places, the torture machines smashed to fragments and scattered about. There are many bones as well, and gallons of dried blood. Even in his imprisonment, Brutus has been busy. I make my way slowly from room to room, my nerves on edge, expecting an ambush around every corner.

I hear Brutus long before I find him. At first I think my ears are playing tricks on me, my jangled nerves creating an audible hallucination. But as the sound grows deeper and louder, there is no mistaking it. The thing's breathing is deep and labored, but it's growing steadily in volume as I get closer. The sound is truly terrifying, turning my bowels to water, making me question my own sanity. Why don't I just go back?

Finally, in a dark chamber at the very heart of the catacomb, I find the demon, where he has been waiting for untold ages. Brutus stands near the wall, hulking and massive. He doesn't move as I approach him slowly, and as I draw near, I'm shocked to see that the monster appears to be weeping. I feel a strange pity for him, beholding his mutated form, his ruined hands and body. Could this have been a man once? How long has he been locked in this tower alone?

But pity does not override caution, and as I raise my sword with trembling hand, Brutus turns to me, suddenly animated. His weeping trails off, and is replaced by a low growling, a terrifying sound that reverberates off the Prison walls, boring into my skull. The Demon raises the bloody stumps of his arms, the chains on them clinking and clattering together in challenge. Then he roars a bloodcurdling scream at me, and charges.

I've spent many hours honing my skills on the inhabitants of Wraeclast, but nothing has prepared me for the fury of Brutus' assault. He is mighty beyond belief, knocking my blows aside with ease, thudding his twisted arms against my armor and crumpling it like paper. I manage to get in a few choice strikes, but they do little to slow his momentum. If anything, his rage builds as the fight continues, his fury intensifying.

For what seems like hours we battle there, in the fetid darkness. I am beyond exhaustion, but somehow I find the strength to combat the beast. Little by little, the wounds begin to have an effect on Brutus, and I notice that his attacks are slowing somewhat. The floor of the room is covered in gore, most of it the demon's, but some my own. His breaths are more ragged now, more labored, his hands not striking me with the same frenzied force. I gain confidence, pressing the attack, for the first time driving the monster backwards. One of my slashes cleaves his right stump in two, and his shrieking roar of pain is music to my ears. I drive him into a corner and pull my sword back for a fierce killing blow, but that gives Brutus an opening.

The demon gurgles horribly, rears his head back, and vomits a gigantic gout of boiling blood all over me. The acrid blast catches me full in the face, blinding me momentarily. Sensing my sudden vulnerability, Brutus lurches forward, knocking my sword away and driving me to my knees. He raises both mutilated fists high above his head, and brings them down in a sweeping arc, aimed at my skull. I act on instinct, ducking low and rolling, the killing blow missing my head by mere inches. The demon's fists smash into the stone floor, spraying blood and meat everywhere. He screeches a ghastly wail that chills my bones.

Through blurred vision I behold my wounded enemy, as he gathers himself for another attack. But I am unarmed now, too tired to fight on. All is lost, I will die here in the dark, my bones to serve as playthings for this horrible creature. Brutus slowly turns towards me, blood still dripping from his ragged maw. I can see mirth in his eyes, and something that scares me much more. I see victory. I back slowly away from him as he advances, my hands held up in feeble defense. He tracks my every move, almost toying with me, refusing to rush in and end things. A few more steps back and I thud heavily up against the freezing stone wall. There really is nowhere left to run. But wait, what's this cold iron thing digging into the small of my back? No, it cannot be a ladder rung can it?

I do not hesitate to look, I just act. With the last of my waning strength, I whirl around, and reaching upward in the gloom I seize upon another thin rung just above my head. This ladder must hold me up, it is all I have! I scrabble for footing on the dungeon wall as I pull with both arms, and as I clamber upward, Brutus charges with a howl. Somehow, miraculously, he is too slow. For a moment, I look down on the monstrous creature, as he roars with frustration and fury a few feet below me. For all his menace and strength, there is no way Brutus can pursue me up this tiny ladder. I do not know what waits above me, but with certain death the only fate left to me in these cursed catacombs, I steel my courage and ascend into the unknown.