Saturday, October 5, 2019

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge

With the buried poison beneath Sandpoint put back to rest, the Companions realized the clock is ticking faster than they'd hoped. One of the Runelords, at least, appeared hellbent on waking from his slumbers to unleash his magic upon the world. To stop a being of such power, they'll need the proper tools... but a runeforged weapon can only be found in one place. So they made their preparations, and set off to arm themselves for one, last battle.

To catch up on how we got here, check out:

- Chapter 1: Blood and Butterflies
- Chapter 2: Murder and Glass
- Chapter 3: The Sin Pit
- Chapter 4: Tussles in The Tangle
- Chapter 5: The Assault on Thistletop
- Chapter 6: Secrets Behind The Curtain
- Chapter 7: Murders At The Mill
- Chapter 8: Halflings and Ghouls
- Chapter 9: Fox in The Hen House
- Chapter 10: Something Rotten in Magnimar
- Chapter 11: The Crumbling Tower
- Chapter 12: Demonbane
- Chapter 13: Trouble at Turtleback Ferry
- Chapter 14: The Taking of Fort Rannick
- Chapter 15: Water Over The Dam
- Chapter 16: Mad Lovers, And Lost Captains
- Chapter 17: The March of The Giants
- Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist
- Chapter 19: The Secrets Beneath Sandpoint
- Chapter 20: At The Gates of The Runeforge
- Chapter 21: Storming The Halls of Evocation
- Chapter 22: The Bowels of Necromancy's Tomb
- Chapter 23: The End of Runeforge
- Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

And after all that, the Companions headed north again... into the crags of the forgotten mountains, looking for a place buried by time.

The Gateway To The Runeforge


Reading and re-reading the notes left by the Scribbler, the Companions begin to piece together the bizarre history and purpose of the place they seek. Like the Runelords themselves, the Runeforge appeared to have been created with something of a noble goal, when it was first founded. A place for arcane scholars to come and study, it was a place of magic and learning... and only those with the proper spells could enter it.

Fortunately, we brought some arcane experts with us.
The journey was arduous, and cold. The Companions didn't speak much, each focused on what lay ahead, and for some what roiled within them. Mirelinda read her cards every day, the fortunes only growing worse the closer they came. Danger, the cards said... but what form it would take they didn't so much as hint at.

When they finally found the gate, it seemed almost underwhelming. Ancient standing stones atop a plateau, each marked with runes and left filled with magic. Keys to the gateway that, if opened at the proper time, would show the way to the Runeforge... or so the made writings of the trapped Scribbler had said. Mirelinda and Zordlan examined them, prodding the stones with cantrips until they felt the eldritch mechanisms unlock. Rumbles in the stone as tumblers turned. One, then another, then another. It seemed that Runeforge wouldn't be as hard to get into as they'd feared... until a shadow fell over them, and a scream of fury split the air.

On Winter Wings


From the sky, frost hissing from its gaping maw, came a huge, white dragon. Fully grown and enraged, it swooped down on what it seemed sure was an easy meal. Thok's eyes went wide, and he dashed for cover to get away from its curving, raptor talons and piercing gaze. Bostwick skipped aside, spreading out so it couldn't get everyone. Zordlan swore, and Mirelinda ducked behind a standing stone. Even Chikara retreated a few steps, raising her bow.

Zhakar shrugged his cloak off his shoulders, and unfurled his wings. When the thing came down, he rose to meet it.

Well shit, they don't usually do THAT!
The dragon's breath raked the circle as the Companions dove aside, trying to return fire with spell and bow. Zhakar shook off the frost, and blasted a blinding beam into the dragon's eyes. It roared, eyes white and scaled from the burning light. It shook its head, listening for what it could no longer see. Shocking arrows thumped into its hide, and it roared. As Mirelinda prepared another spell, it dove, snatching her up and flying her high into the sky. It tossed her, and she spread her arms as the air slowed her descent. Confused, and angered, the dragon circled to within reach of Zhakar's pick once more. Instead of an easy meal, it found the steel digging straight through its scales, spilling its freezing blood onto the plateau below.

Crippled and wounded, angry and unable to conceive of how close to death it was, it was only a matter of time till the dragon came back to earth. Turning to meet the charge from above, it didn't expect the rest of the Companions to descend upon it. Chikara's ax bit deep, and Zordlan's blade punctured its underbelly. Hellfire bloomed, and it screamed as the black flames burned away what life remained in it.

Rimed, But Triumphant


Chilled and shaken, but very much alive, the Companions rested, healed, and then sought the dragon's lair to be certain it didn't have a mate. It didn't, but it had a hoard. Filled with treasures stolen over hundreds of years, ranging from potent magical weapons like a Flametongue, to enchanted armors and wands, the creature had been sitting on the very weapons that would have been ideal for slaying it. But it had no mate that they could see. Sorting the wheat from the hoard, the Companions began the ritual opening once more. They ascended the stairs to the top of the path at speed, thanks to Zhakar's wings, and despite the crumbling drops, found the gateway into the what they assumed to be the Runeforge. Guarded by two constructs, the gateway yawned before them... leading into dangers untold.

What was in the realm beyond?

Next Time on Table Talk!


Will the Companions survive the horrors of the Runeforge? Will they find the weapons they seek, or is it all just a deadly trap? Find out on the next installment of Table Talk!

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