((Sorry about the delay. It's been a very long evening. The potions are 2d8 +5, yes))
Sarm's spell strikes true, and the fire-demon's skin starts to sizzle and bubble from the wave of holy light engulfing it, after only a few seconds, the creature pops like a bubble, splattering Val with demon innards.
Meanwhile, Tarkus's charge at the stupefied crimson orc ends the battle in one swift decapitation; its body falls limply to the floor as the bloody head rolls across the floor until it's stopped by one of the cages.
This leaves the party alone in this blood-covered den full of torture victims, and now that the din of battle has subsided, all that can be heard is the horrible, desperate moans of the ailing, suffering captives.
Suvne steps away from the blood-soaked bar and raises her sword straight over her head. It's now apparent that her eyes are glowing a bright, pupil-less white; her sword shines brilliantly, and a burst of holy energy radiates rapidly outward, momentarily blinding everyone. When their vision returns, Amriel, the two Devas, and the Fire Elemental are on the scene.
Suvne looks directly into Sarm with her white eyes, and he feels a familiar presence. The way she is carrying herself is entirely different than normal; there is an ages-old wisdom in her posture and facial expression. "Amriel and the others will tend to these poor souls," she says in a voice that is not her own. "Go forth to Ravenloft, Sarm Santee, and recover that which was taken."
The white light fades from Suvne's eyes, and her demeanor returns mostly to normal, except that she is breathing heavily; her face is flushed, and she is clearly speechless, still trying to process what just happened to her.
The crew from the Temple are already well equipped for the task at hand. The fire elemental is in the process of casting holy wards and using white, holy fire to cleanse the building of its sanguine curse; as the flame washes over the party, they find that it is not at all hot, and is in fact warm and oddly comforting as it evaporates the desecrated blood.
The Devas are busy fortifying the building against incursions by more demons; one is lining any potential entrances with thick salt piles, while the other is busy drawing holy wards and glyphs on the walls and ground. Amriel has already begun to survey the victims in their cages and is evaluating their conditions to determine how to best help them.
"We have this under control," he assures the party as he Lays Hands on a particularly grisly-looking victim. "There are others from other Temples of Pelor throughout the city already on their way to help. You did good works here today, ladies and gentlemen; may Pelor's light always guide you."
If the party ventures downstairs, they find that the other confused Orc is gone; he almost certainly ran straight through the portal, which is still intact and waiting to be traversed.
((Everyone gain a level. Quintus, remember that you're on d12's now for HP, but also roll a d4 and keep it on file for when/if you stop being undead. This will bring Suvne up to Level 9 and everyone else up to Level 11. Oh, and well played, you guys; this whole chapter in Sigil was awesome, IMO))