This was a bad idea.

Yes, she and her party were undeniably potent adventurers in their own right.  Yes, the rift engines pulling demons from their backlines somewhere else entirely to the Hellfire Peninsula needed to be stopped.  Yes, she expected that they would have had any backup ready to deploy if the frontlines were shut off, but that they'd found her deeper raids so irritating as to set up a particular trap for her, springing it as she directed her team to break for it, that she'd be back in a minute -

On the one hand, she was flattered, on the other hand, she wasn't going to die here.

Fel-touched chains bound her, after so many minutes of fighting that she'd lost count.  (She glared at the rogue, sneaking around like he had any hope of freeing her.  This was -- overdetermined.  He needed to go, before they noticed he was there.  And they would.  They had Eyes everywhere.)

...Good.  He was leaving.  She didn't have to see anyone else die for her.

Now how was she going to try to get out of this?

...A loose bit of knowledge crossed through her mind: "Draenor was a planet, once, before it became this fel-twisted, blasted mess that your people call Outland.  Before the Dark Portal opened, before Gul'dan, that megalomaniac, tore open dozens more in the hope of loot and conquest, and Draenor fell into the Twisting Nether."

And perhaps the utility of that wasn't obvious to most, because teleportation in any given direction would be thoroughly shattered by the fel wards on her chains.  But there were more directions than that, as clearly evidenced by the aurorae fading in through the sky like they'd always been there, and Sargeras's demons wouldn't be expecting this - teleportation of most any significant degree involved an extended channeling process, but Diana knew the equations for Blinking inside and out, enough that she thought she could make something work.

And she was desperate.

"Oh, yes, you'll be a wonderful addition to our armies once you're properly broken to the Master's will..."

...The succubus leering at her wasn't helping her focus on the necessary math.

...She needed to do this.  To Blink out of her chains by Blinking in a fourth direction they didn't know how to splinch her through, and then - hopefully - back, somewhere she could survive.

She focused.  She moved.  She Blinked.

The Twisting Nether spat her pattern out in a dozen places and more, through changes to the weave of magic echoing the way she Blinked back.

This was a bad idea.

Yes, she and her party were undeniably potent adventurers in their own right.  Yes, the rift engines pulling demons from their backlines somewhere else entirely to the Hellfire Peninsula needed to be stopped.  Yes, she expected that they would have had any backup ready to deploy if the frontlines were shut off, but that they'd found her deeper raids so irritating as to set up a particular trap for her, springing it as she directed her team to break for it, that she'd be back in a minute -

On the one hand, she was flattered, on the other hand, she wasn't going to die here.

Fel-touched chains bound her, after so many minutes of fighting that she'd lost count.  (She glared at the rogue, sneaking around like he had any hope of freeing her.  This was -- overdetermined.  He needed to go, before they noticed he was there.  And they would.  They had Eyes everywhere.)

...Good.  He was leaving.  She didn't have to see anyone else die for her.

Now how was she going to try to get out of this?

...A loose bit of knowledge crossed through her mind: "Draenor was a planet, once, before it became this fel-twisted, blasted mess that your people call Outland.  Before the Dark Portal opened, before Gul'dan, that megalomaniac, tore open dozens more in the hope of loot and conquest, and Draenor fell into the Twisting Nether."

And perhaps the utility of that wasn't obvious to most, because teleportation in any reasonable direction would be thoroughly shattered by the fel wards on her chains.  But there were more directions than that, as clearly evidenced by the aurorae fading in through the sky like they'd always been there, and Sargeras's demons wouldn't be expecting this - teleportation of most any significant degree involved an extended channeling process, but Diana knew the equations for Blinking inside and out, enough that she thought she could make something work.

And she was desperate.

"Oh, yes, you'll be a wonderful addition to our armies once you're properly broken to the Master's will..."

...The succubus leering at her wasn't helping her focus on the necessary math.

...She needed to do this.  To Blink out of her chains by Blinking along the fourth axis they didn't yet know how to splinch her through, and then - hopefully - back, somewhere she could survive.

She focused.  She moved.  She Blinked.

She messed up a sign, somewhere in the many equations that she had to derive on the fly.

The Twisting Nether spat her pattern out in a dozen places and more, through changes to the weave of magic echoing the way she Blinked back.