You reenter the observatory as stealthily as possible, hoping to catch your pursuers unaware.  However, Mmon'ch turns from his perch on the window ledge and regards you.  ”Theresa nowheres to run.  Nowherea to hide.  Yousa kennot escape Mistress Morotha.  Yousa simply kennot.”
As he speaks, a sound from behind you steals your attention.  You spin around in time to see a large, scaly, clawed hand reaching for you!  You recoil, but it falls lifelessly to the floor: Cradossk's severed forearm.  A heavily wounded Demios steps out from a nearby shelf.
”He may be needing that where he's going,” he says coolly, despite the terribly bloody wound in his side.  ”But he won't be bothering you again.  Not for a while anyway.”  And then, after noticing the dretch, his shoulders slump.  It its obvious that he has little more to give; but he will give it willingly for his master.
He twirls his double blade and prepares an attack.

"No, Demios! They took my wife, and my hopes of rescuing her. They will not take my servant and my friend as well." Stan motions for his loyal companion to stand down.

"If I don't make it, I want you to get out of here and keep looking for Clementine. Do you understand? Leave me if you have to."

Stan readies his staff and faces off against the Dretch.

"Yousa picked the wrong apprentice to piss off."

13:12, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 18 using 1d20+5. Initiative.
13:13, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 12,4 using d20+2,d6. Attack

You rush the smaller demon, who easily evades your attack; but does so by leaping to the side while still on the window ledge.  He lands awkwardly and slips!  Not terribly nimble, but quick enough--given the circumstances--Mmon'ch grabs hold of the ledge, dangling dangerously high above the courtyard below...
”Whoa!” the creature screams.  ”Less'us not be toooo crazy, yea?  Yousa no want'a bees a killin mee.  A truce, truce okay?”

Stan looks down at him. "Where is she?"

”Don't know,” Mmon'ch replies, his voice becoming more focused and apprehensive.  ”Yousa don't undinstand!  If in I bee dyin, isa goin back to da Pitt!  RECYCLED!!!”

"What do you know? I'm not leaving empty handed."

Stan begins to casually appreciate the glint of his dagger, which is poised unthreateningly above the dretch's gripping hand.

The demon pauses as he sways in the abyssal winds.  He stares at you, frantically searching for some way to save himself.  His mouth hangs open and sheets of sticky perspiration pours from his brow.
”He won't betray his mistress,” Demios says somewhere behind you.  ”He'll be recycled either way.  But if he misleads us, he stands a better chance of his former station once he claws his way back out.  Don't trust anything he says!”

”Stan,” he says after licking his nasty lips, ”Stan... p-please'um... undinstand--

As he struggles, you notice figures approaching on the horizon.  Reinforcements?

"If you serve me I will see that you are unharmed." Stan lets the creature dangle a bit more, but he also motions behind his back to Demios. It might take both of them to pull the dretch back up.

If the creature was sweating mildly before, he is wholly soaked now.  He stammers a bit, and a gusty of wind nearly causes him to lose his grip.  ”W-willsa youas taking me wit you to da material plane?”

Demios scowls, but does as he is biden by his master.  He steps to the ledge and immediately takes more of the figures on the horizon.  ”M'lord...”
Demios moves to the telescope and plays with the controls.  The movement of the massive contraption can be felt far down the tower, causing another shrill cry to escape the dretch.  The metal tube zeros in on the figures, and Demios can hide a cocky-looking grin.  ”M'lord, please,” he says motioning to the telescope.  ”Morotha approaches.”

Stan looks to the dretch and then to the more pressing problem of the approaching horde.

"Mmon'ch, I don't even know if I'm headed back to the material plane."

He motions to Demios to pull him up.

Stan takes a look through the telescope, eager to view the enemy with whom he has so long struggled.

"Take a message back to your mistress: what was bound cannot be unbound," He fiddles with the controls a bit, taking in the she-demon's retinue. "If she is so desperate to slaughter Bhaal's kin, there are two here ready to fight." Stan nods to Demios.

Although his human compassion pulls at him, he really cannot afford to take on a trustless dretch. "Now go."

You peer through the telescope and have little trouble locating the group.  The most noticeable is, of course, the impossibly tall, multi-armed half woman, half viper.  But matching in front of her are a trio of hezrou in formation.  A host of dretch drag the dias upon which the marilith sits, large meat hooks jut from their backs.   Another chain hangs from the dias, attached to a single cloaked person.

Once Demios sets Mmon'ch down, the little demon flees from the observatory.

Stan shudders at the sight of such an awesome creature. Each of her 6 arms could crush a human in half. Many of her weapons are probably worth more than a mansion on the material plane.

The snake-demon and her retinue are imposing, but it is the small humanoid prisoner that catches Stan's eye.

"Is it her?" Stan asks Demios. "Perhaps I am getting paranoid. I fear a trap."

He studies the figure through the telescope, trying to recognize its gait or other mannerisms.

16:25, Today: Stan Fetchin rolled 14 using 1d20+2. Sense motive.

It is very difficult to deduce intent from this distance, but you do note that they are armed, but not up in arms.  Their postures are about as causal as the grouping of demons can be.

”It's difficult to say,” Demios replies.  ”It certainly appears to be the queen.”
The figure does look like Clementine's build, but it is hooded in a black cloak.

”What are your plans?”

Stan notes that Demios is weary. Although long suffering, he also seems very tired.

"What can we do? We are but one mortal and a brave but exhausted demi-fiend. How could we stand against a general of the abyss?"

”You're the general,” Demios replies. ”You got anything left?
”We can't stay here.  And we can't go backwards, the tower's defenders are nearly here.  I could fly us out, if you wish.  We'd be pretty easy targets for her, but it's an option.  We could try to swoop down and free m'lady, and then run,” he says with a shrug.
”You know, I've trained a long time, going on 80 years.  And now that I'm here, with you... I'm sorry m'lord, but I just don't see what the Powers see in you mortals.  With all due respect.
”I don't know if my kind gets recycled--I reckon not--but of you say we go to her with all fury, well, I'll do it.”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:33, Thu 02 Feb 2012.

80 years? Here is one probably older than Garrett. For a moment, Stan wishes that the old man were here to help him.

"Are there none left of our own host?" Stan asks. He already knows the answer.

"My magic is exhausted, as is your strength." And Clementine's endurance.

How many of the mages at Arcanis-tirith could have helped him now? How many of the fighters and thieves with whom he had adventured? Or the other students, or the demon horde that was even now being recycled into fresh minions for the relentless foe? How many men like Garrett, ancient and wise and dangerous?

"I'm just one worn-out apprentice."

Stan looks around at the ruinous plane.

"How do we get back home, anyway? I mean, my home? I mean, wherever we came from," he says.

”Now, m'lord?  But your queen is within reach!  Forgive me, but I cannot let you leave her,” he cries, for the first time showing you emotion.  ”she has toiled everyday since you disappeared!  She's risked everything to find you, to show us a different way, the path to redemption!  We cannot abandon her now...

”I do not doubt there are several passages from this observatory to your material plane, but she can lead you back to your proper time!  ...please, Father?”

At first Stan tries to interject by waving his hands, but before he has time to make his own point (that he meant for after the rescue), Demios has laid down the revelation.

Stan sits down for a moment.

"I have to say, it wasn't entirely off my list of possibliities. I just thought. I mean... you're a hundred years old, right?"

He quickly remembers the original discussion.

"Anyway, I just wanted to know how to get out of here for after we had saved, uh, your mom, I guess."

Stan looks back through the telescope at the cloaked figure. "We have a lot to talk about missy."

Your response does well in calming Demios' emotions.  After an awkward moment passes, he speaks again.
”There are many doorways, that touch hundreds of thousands of worlds and times.  Escaping shouldn't be a problem once we've freed the Queen.  M'lady knows these parts as well as any of Morotha's agents.  We only need to get to her, free her, and get to a doorway she can open.”

As Demios speaks, you see through the telescope a fat little demon with a silly looking mushroom cap on it's head scurry from the tower toward Morotha's position...

"Alright. If you fly us in I can distract them while you grab Clementine and make a break for it. It's not the best plan, but it's all I have."

Once you are ready, Demios secures his blade and climbs into the window.  You join him and leap out together!  He catches you easily and the two of you glide upon the abyssal currents, making way for Morotha and her posse.
If you weren't in the Abyss, flying to confront a lesser tanar'ri, you might be more apt to enjoy this sort of thing.  If only your classmates could see you now...

It doesn't surprise you when the air around you lights up and becomes filled with smoke and magical explosions, but being unable to control the flight path is unnerving.  Demios zigzags to avoid the welcoming barrage.  A couple of times you are sure you are about to finally eat it, but your son's skillful maneuvers save both your skins.
The landing is rough, but you roll to your feet, kicking up puffs of red dust on your wake.  The hiss of steel sliding on steel alerts you to the fact that Demios has retrieved his double sword having landed somewhere behind you.  Your ears ring loudly with the sound of your own heartbeat; and the dust settles as you wait your own oblivion... but it does not come.
No white-hot flash of eldritch power springs at you from the dust cloud.  You cannot even hear the battle cries of charging hezrou.  Instead, standing before you is the largest monster you have every seen, a truly unfathomable nightmare to behold this closely.  Morotha.

Stan tries to remain stoic as his son glides through the barrage. Once or twice he casts resistance to aid his progeny in evading certain death.

When he enters the fray he has no idea what to expect. Certainly Demios could have aimed to put him somewhere else. This is not where he wants to be, and yet: it feels good to be at the center of things, confronting the master villain at last. If only he had saved a spell or two beyond simple cantrips.

Stan read some things about infernal creatures at the library (when there had been a library.) He knows that a certain breed of fiend would relish the chance to negotiate, draw out a mark's suffering with subtle nets and self-wrought snares.

Morotha is not part of that breed. Demons exist to wreak havoc and sow chaos, regardless of reason or consequence. The person (creature? thing?) in front of him is no Mephistopheles. She is 4,000 pounds of unreasoning carnage.

He smiles as he wipes the dust off of his red traveling cloak.

"Right, then. What's all this?"

A thin eye brow arches on her pale face, puling with it the hint of a crooked smile.
”Ah, look,” she sneers to the lumbering figures surrounding her.  ”Mr Wonderful!  Mr Hero!  My son-in-law.  Lower your arms, boys, Stan here has come to tea.  Look how cute he is!  My, my... I can't say I blame my daughter for entertaining wild ideas with this mortal, curse my soul.
”Oh, and my grandson, how quaint,” she adds after a short fit of mocking laughter.  ”So, you've no doubt come for her, hmm?  Well I've some heartbreaking news for you, in spite of your valiant--yet foolish--efforts.  Your bride has decided to annul your union.
”I'm very sorry, but these things do happen, what with the Balances of Powers and whatnot... And this sort of thing isn't terribly uncommon on your Material Plane either.  Anyway, I do believe it's time for you to go now, hmm?  Shoo!  Go on, get!  If you don't get moving, I'll be forced to deal a little more... forceful with you.”

Stan is disheartened by the news buts tries not to show it.

"Let her say so herself, then. Or did you raise a mute idiot?"