Thursday, October 29, 2020

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

The Companions have fought their way past dangers untold, and found themselves in the lost realm of Xin-Shalast. Threatened and opposed at every turn, they have forced their way to the very doorstep of the Runelord Karzoug. Only one thing stands between him and them, and that is the barrier of greed. Only three servants hold keys, and the Companions must acquire one if they are to pass by to confront the master of transmutation in his own lair.

For those who need to catch up, previous installments are listed below:

- 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
 
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Stealing From a Dragon


After evaluating all of their choices, the Companions took some time to prepare themselves. Bargaining with a devil was not a contest they relished, nor was fighting a storm giant among the clouds. But she who was draped in gold had potential. For there was something they'd noticed in walking through the marketplaces of Xin-Shalast; gold was a worthless currency in that place. Barely worth paving the streets with, the riches that would have purchased kingdoms on the material plane were nothing more than decoration here. Yet the magma dragon's hoard was filled with gold and silver, and she herself encased in it to the point that she cold only fly through magic.

It was not her hoard, however. That treasure room had become her prison, and the "gift" that Karzoug had given her was the lock that kept her there. Enthralled to a magic mirror, she would stay there of her own volition, addicted to gazing upon her gilded reflection.

A more perfect prison has never been constructed.

To test this theory, the Companions dug through the hoard of the white dragon they'd slain who'd guarded the pass. In it they found a large mirror, wrought in gold and silver, carved with artistry and skill. It was a marvel to behold, and would have been a fit gift for any queen. When they presented the mirror to Zargatoth, the massive dragon lifted the mirror and examined it. Then, as if compelled to, she destroyed it, crumpling the beautiful piece of art in her fist. Sadness choked her voice when she spoke, saying she was allowed to have nothing of her own.

Thok slowly nocked an arrow, his shoulders tense as Zhakar approached the huge dragon. She was near to weeping, confused, and disoriented. She hadn't seen her mirror in so long... she knew it was close, but she couldn't find it. That was when Ivory spotted it, lodged in the melted gold on Zargatoth's back. The mirror was far too potent to be harmed by her body's heat, and she'd lost it within her own gilded shackles. Ivory told the dragon where it was, but she couldn't reach it; not with the heavy slabs of muscle that prevented her flexibility.

Speaking softly, and assuring her that they wished to help, Zhakar asked Zargatoth to allow them to extract the mirror from her. Reluctantly, the dragon lay down, digging her claws into the stone.

 A Delicate Procedure


Zargatoth's possessive connection to the mirror, and it's tight hold over her, made removing it a dangerous endeavor. Even if the Companions were careful, one wrong move could lead to bloodshed... bloodshed they'd rather avoid if it were possible.

Mirelinda spoke softly, the soothing sounds flowing from her lips as she cast a spell to calm Zargatoth's fears and furies. Focusing on the jagged rune burned into his forehead, Zhakar erupted in protective flames, flying onto Zargatoth's back. Using the burning claws of his twisted devil's hand, Zhakar peeled away gold and silver, reducing the metal to slag as he flung it away from him. Ivory floated nearby, keeping an eye on Zargatoth and using precise beams of fire to help cut the mirror out of the dragon's golden shackles. Though becalmed by magic, the dragon's anxiety raised her body's temperature, melting the gold and silver faster, the metal running into puddles on the floor. The mirror was singing a siren's song, trying to persuade Zhakar to look into its surface, to see what he desired there, but its song fell on deaf ears as the memories of what he saw in the gaps between worlds returned to him. Wrenching the mirror free, he set it down on the stone before Zargatoth, backing away from her.

The sight of the mirror immediately smote the dragon between her eyes. She stepped out of the pool of molten metal, shaking herself off. While the carapace that had weighed her down for so long was gone, her mind was as shackled as it had ever been. Withdrawing to a safe distance, the Companions spoke in low whispers; even though Zargatoth was completely lost in the enthrallment of her addiction.

They needed that mirror to cross the barrier, and Ivory could tell from the wefts of the magic around its enchantment that once bound to a new owner Zargatoth would be free of its compulsions. But the new owner would need to break that curse as well, or over time the mirror would enchant and degrade them until they were slaves to the reflection. She could create the spell to break it, given time, but they would need to steal the mirror.

As Ivory gathered the supplies, and penned the scrolls that would be necessary, escorted by Chikara to ensure none thought to try to steal Ivory, the others watched Zargatoth. She barely moved a muscle, lying there enraptured by what the mirror showed her. For hours she stayed there, and would likely have stayed there indefinitely had the Companions not taken action.

With the simple application of a few spells, Chikara vanished from sight, running like the wind. Hefting the huge mirror, she ran, bolting into the city. Confused, the spell broken, Zargatoth cast around for the cause of her mirror's absence. The rest of the Companions fled as well, their speed enhanced by both adrenaline, and magic. Unable to fly, and with no idea where they were going, Zargatoth quickly fell behind.

When they were safely away, or as safe as they could be under the circumstances, they found the mirror had shrunk itself, and changed its form. No longer a hand mirror for a dragon, it was now something sized for any of the Companions... should they wish to take it. After a brief discussion of the risks, and what could happen, Mirelinda held her hand out to the mirror. It all but leaped into her grasp, the metal warm, comforting, and familiar as she gazed into it, and bonded with it. Across the city Zargatoth awoke, truly awoke, for the first time in ages. The hunger in her was gone, the need absent for the first time she could remember in many years.

Mirelinda gazed at her reflection, lips pursed as she examined herself. She fixed her hair, and adjusted her necklace, nodding. When Zhakar cleared his throat she jumped, as if lost in thought, but put the mirror away in her satchel with only a little reluctance.

The final challenge was still ahead.

Return Next Time For The Finale!


One of the longest campaigns I've played in a while, and the finale is just around the corner! Stay tuned, and I'll see you next time on Table Talk!

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