The Prison Wing is a subterranean complex of dark and oppressive air, its stone walls fallen to dilapidation. It runs to a series of cells that echo with the stirrings of restless prisoners, some kept in irons, others roaming at liberty. The place is dimly lit, and the remnants of ancient fixtures argue a lighting long since gone to ruin. A notable feature of the wing is a hole broken in the ceiling, which might serve for an escape were it not choked with rubble. Decay has done its work throughout: broken chains and shattered vials lie strewn across the floor, and an aura of dark magic lingers, fit witness to its history of holding threats not of this world.
The wing takes in a Laboratory littered with broken vials and petrified herbs, and an Armory stocked with weapons of several kinds, magical short swords and crossbows among them. Undead guardians pose no small danger within. And here too are artifacts and resources of value to be had — holy water, and arms besides.