Rise of The Runelords Chapter 26: The Gateway To Xin-Shalast

The Companions have ventured far from the origin of their adventure, and though they were beset by a spirit of hunger and dread, they managed to slay the Wendigo and break its grip on the mountains... but not before it took one of their own. With Ivory's blood cooling on the snow, and the storm finally passing, what will happen next?

For those who need to catch up on this tale, the table of contents for the adventure are as follows:

- 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 24: Preparation For The Final Journey 

- Chapter 25: The Hunger in The Mountains 

- Chapter 26: The Gateway to Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 27: The Path of Temptation

- Chapter 28: The Three-Fold Challenge of Xin-Shalast

- Chapter 29: Crossing The Barrier of Greed

- Chapter 30: The Fall of Karzoug

And now, to see what other gods and monsters will stand in their way as they seek the lost gate of Xin-Shalast.

Rebirth in The Mountains

As the Companions gathered round the body of their slain friend Ivory, they felt resolve grow afresh in their hearts. Not only that, but as they retreated into the abandoned mine for shelter from the cold, they found something on her person. A scroll written in a flowing, celestial hand containing a spell that could resurrect one who had only been gone a brief time. Without hesitation Mirelinda unfurled the scroll, and performed the rite as soon as she was certain she understood it.

"In case of emergency." Well, this seems like the appropriate time...

As the complex ritual flowed off Mirelinda's tongue, the wind outside died. It was as if the frozen valley were holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen. A light began to glow, and to swell, filling the small space with a feeling of warmth, and comfort. A feeling that a great door to a realm of enjoyment was being opened, and someone was leaving once more. Then Ivory sat up, coughing and shivering, cold for the first time in months as she worked circulation back into her body.

She thanked the others for their effort, but suggested that in future encounters they exercise a little more caution. Her contingencies were finite, after all.

Guardians of The Gate

Once they'd rested, and felt reasonably certain that the immediate danger has passed, the Companions returned to the trail. In the day or so since the demise of the Wendigo the surrounding countryside had already begun to scrub away the stain of its presence. Tentative birds were returning, and though still cold, the biting wind had ceased. A curious deer walked along a far slope, as if scouting to see where the change in the air came from.

As the Companions crossed into a cleft between two cliffs, they found a small, hidden valley. A place that had the warmth of a hot spring, and where birds and beasts had come to take refuge. There was fear, but also curiosity... as if something else were watching behind their eyes. It was when the Companions reached a pool, and saw a creature splash out of it that they knew who commanded this place... though not what she wanted.

There you are... what took you so long?

The nymph who watched over the grove was curious to see who it was that had broken the grip of the hungering horror on her mountains, and to see what she could do to repay those bold enough to face it down. When she recognized the Companions as those who had helped her cousin, who had gone mad over the loss of her lover near the Black Arrows' fortress, she was doubly pleased to have them as guests.

When she was told they sought Xin-Shalast, though, she grew somewhat grave. Frost giants had been coming through the ancient gates, kidnapping people and dragging them back through. None of them had been seen again after they were taken. Worse, an ancient shadow still lurked in that pass. A wyrm whose name was so old that most texts of the modern age had never recorded it at all.

Thok and Chikara took to the undergrowth soon after, vanishing into the hills to see what they would have to pass to enter Xin-Shalast. What they found was nearly a dozen frost giants milling around, with a small village of recently taken hostages who bore the cast of Kellids. Many of the frost giants were branded with the old runes of power. Not only that, but there were great beasts walled in ice who had massive chunks bitten from them. Chunks that had been taken in a single mouthful by something that had survived the changing of aeons, and which bore scars from the time of the Runelords' ascendancy.

No Chains, No Slavers

No sooner did Thok and Chikara return with word of what they'd seen than the other Companions readied themselves to move out. They could wait, and sneak in on the heels of the giants, but there were innocents being forced into lives of servitude for the most debased of wizards. Their stealth was not worth a cost that high.

While even one sits in chains, none are truly free.

The Companions approached boldly, making no secret of themselves. Upon seeing such little mortals, the frost giants took up their defensive positions atop the mountain, and began flinging stones. Several fell wide of the mark, but one of them struck Thok in the head. Blood ran down his face, and with the blood came a cold fury the slayer rarely displayed. He loosed an arrow that took the rock thrower in the eye, the air around the giant's head freezing to droplets of snow with the impact from the enchanted bow.

Zhakar raised his burning sword with a mighty battle cry, and the light that burned within him went chill, and bleak. It pulsed from him like a shield, protecting those who sheltered within it. And not a moment too soon, for it had barely flicked into existence before the great, white beast fell from behind the clouds, frost burning from its maw and hammering down upon the Companions. Though chilled, their fast reflexes and Zhakar's shield managed to blunt the worst of the monster's breath.

Chaos ensued. Mirelinda took shelter beneath overhanging rocks, attempting to speed the others with one spell, and then to open chasms beneath the frost giants with the next. Chikara tensed and leaped, bounding from one stone to another, roaring as she brought down her ax like thunder upon the giants who stood before her. Zhakar took to the air, hoping to draw the dragon to him. Below, Thok reached into a special pocket on his quiver and slipped out a pair of arrows they had taken from the last dragon who had attacked them. Arrows that had once belonged to a dragon slayer, and which had lost none of their potency.

As the dragon came around for another attack, Thok loosed the arrows. The first hit cleanly, smashing through the wyrm's protections and embedding itself in its chest directly over its heart. As it roared, rearing back its head, Zhakar let forth the beam of fire from the flametongue in his hand, using the arrow's fletching as his place to aim. The fire ate through the frost wyrm's defenses, blackening and charring its flesh. The creature belched ice, flagging as it tried to turn, fire melting its guts. Before it could flee, Thok nocked the other arrow, and let fly. It caught the wyrm in the throat, and it tumbled from the sky, its blood freezing into hail as it dug a new trench in the valley floor.

A Small Change That May Mark an Avalanche

Though several of the frost giants were dead, several others fled into a great cavern. Something howled in its depths, as if there was more than a hole in the earth beyond. One frost giant remained, his ax on the ground, prostrating himself for mercy.

"The tales are true," he rumbled, fear and awe mixing in his voice. "They did not believe, but I knew one day you would come for us."

You know you've made it when giants take you seriously.

Zhakar looked at their captive, and into him. He bore no marks of the Runelords' control, nor did he have the twisted soul of an evil creature. Many captives, once freed, said that he had treated them fairly, if not kindly, and that he had been hurt by his companions for it.

"Would you take service, and embrace a new path?" Zhakar asked.

"You have only to name it," the giant said.

"You are Shepherd, now," Zhakar said, touching the giant upon the brow with his left hand, healing the wounds he had sustained. "Tonight we shall rest here, and upon the morrow you will escort your small brothers and sisters south. There is a vale held by a nymph where they can rest. From there, help them find their way home once more."

"And... and what of you?" the giant now called Shepherd asked.

The Companions looked at the cavern. It seemed to suck at the air and the light, eating at the world around it. The howl was filled with greed and darkness, and it made the skin pebble with discomfort and wariness.

"We will go to Xin-Shalast," Zhakar said. "And if we must, raze it to its foundations."

Next Time on Table Talk!

We have entered the final book of the campaign! Will the Companions overturn the corrupt rule of Karzoug, or will they succumb to the temptations of green and power? Will they destroy Xin-Shalast, or will they find something inside it that can undo the damage wrought by its keeper? Stay tuned, and I'll see you next time on Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife or my recent short story collection The Rejects, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.

The Best Zombie Game I Ever Played (Where Nothing Happened)

Thanks to the holiday happenings, my gaming schedule has been all up in the air recently. Because of that, one of the fellows at my table volunteered to run us through a kind of introductory one-shot for a game I've often admired, but never actually gotten to play... All Flesh Must Be Eaten!

Because zombies never really go away, do they?

The experience I had with this system was fast, fun, engaging, and in this case enough to make me plan to add more of it to my future gaming schedule. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Small Town Evacuation

The game opens in a lowercase "c" Midwestern city; the sort of place that's not quite big enough to be a suburb of a place like New York or Chicago, but which still has a sizable population. The zombies have been steadily growing, but worse than the walking dead are all the other accidents and breakdowns that have been straining the local government at the seams. Keeping people safe is important, but so is providing medical care, finding food, putting out fires, and evacuating the living so the military can come handle the undead infestation.

Which is, of course, when things go awry.

The protagonists seated round the table have become part of the local safe zone established by a task force of national guard, police, and relief workers. A former furniture outlet, the fencing keeps the undead at bay... or has for the past week or so. One of the residents, a Samoan dancer and occasional biker named Leilani has been trying to figure out her next move in this situation. A recent friend she's made is a huge man named Otis, who fixed cars before this all went down, but who is a little lost without his medications and his strict schedule. Lastly, Richard Freeman, an African American firefighter who's been pulling doubles ever since this mess started to prevent his city from burning down.

It's just as one of the engines are dropping off supplies when the unthinkable happens... the fences come down, and the living dead start shambling into the compound!

While the hoses get turned on the horde to slow them down, and small arms fire cuts into the walking corpses, everyone else gets pushed out the rear exit. The area behind the outlet is still clear, and people are scattering. Some of them just run, terrified now that their safety net is gone. Others are trying to figure out where to go, but seem too afraid to stop moving. These three find themselves clustered around a table with maps, and where a radio is broadcasting a public service message.

Residents must get out of the city in the next 24 hours. At that point the armed forces will arrive, and they will begin exterminating the threat. For their own safety, residents need to follow the approved routes to an extraction point. The three of them look at each other, look at the maps, and that's when Richard says, "All right... we'd better hoof our asses over to the hospital."

The Easy Way, or The Hard Way?

Looking at the maps, Otis frowns, nodding to himself as he traces a route with his finger. "This goes right by where I work," he said. "There might be a car there we could borrow?"

With the ruckus going on in the building getting louder, Richard nods, and Otis leads the way down a side street just as the pounding on the doors starts to reverberate. By the time the zombies make it out into the rear of the former warehouse, though, their quarry is several blocks away, out of sight, and hustling along as quietly as they can.

Those weren't there when I left...

They found the auto garage where Otis works (or worked, it's hard to tell) in fairly short order. Tucked off the main roads, the place only has two bays, and a small lot of cars that need to be repaired, as well as a few repo tows. The front door's glass has been smashed in, but Otis unlocked the door with his key, and they stepped inside.

The first thing they smelled was blood. Stepping carefully around the desk, they found the manager on the floor, a gun in his hand, and a hole in his head. Trying to shield Otis from the sight, Richard checked the pistol, then handed it to Leilani when she said she knew how to use it. Otis stepped into the back office, a little shaken, but looking for keys. Sadly, it looked like all the readily drivable cars were gone, and only a few of the ones who needed repairs were still there.

They could get them working, but it would take time.

With the daylight fading, and everyone trying to get to the extraction zones, it wasn't worth the time to wait. The hospital was only a few miles from where they were, and if they cut through the smaller living area of town they could save some time. Even if it meant jumping a few fences.

Stop For Supplies?

While the cadre ducked down side streets that didn't have a lot of traffic, keeping their eyes on windows, and making sure their profiles were small, they opted to duck through a small strip mall. There was a pawn shop and sporting goods store on one end, and a drugstore at the other. With the daylight fading, they had some choices to make.

Well, at least looters aren't gonna eat you.

The drug store was open, the power out. After a quick listen, and a fast check to be sure there weren't any trigger-happy shoppers or shambling horrors, Leilani and Richard split up and snatched the things they were likely going to need; medicine, batteries, bandages, some hand tools, some dense packs of protein bars, water, and a few hefty backpacks to carry them all in. Otis offered to help carry, but he grabbed a couple of comic books for when he got somewhere safe again.

The shopping trip done, they were passing the sporting goods store when they heard the siren's song of weapons. Baseball bats, helmets, reinforced gloves, rifles, handguns... all of it was right there. Provided they could get inside, of course. Richard was looking for the place to kick, when the light inside caught his eye; the emergency power was on. A backup generator meant that the alarm would go as soon as the door got smashed in, or any damage occurred to the wired windows. Leilani took a turn all the same, trying to persuade the locks to open. She had no dice, though, and when something around the corner bumped into a trash can, they didn't stick around to see what was sneaking up their back trail. They were only three quarters of a mile from the hospital, and if they got a move on they might be able to get out of town sooner rather than later.

It's Quiet... A Little TOO Quiet...

Guys... you think that sign's for us?

 As they approached the hospital, the sun was just dipping below the horizon. Up on the roof they could see a helicopter coming in for a landing, the blades just starting to slow. Down on the ground there were half a dozen squad cars with their bubble lights going... but no cops in sight. Not a one. Leaning into a car, Richard checked the radio. Nothing. No one answered signals, and nothing appeared to be going out. Popping the trunk, he found a riot vest, a shotgun, and a brace of shells. Taking a moment to slip into the kevlar, Leilani did a quick circle of the perimeter... all was quiet outside, and nothing was moving inside. As far as she could see, anyway.

Opting to go in through the side entrance for the ER, they found the doors juttering, and the floors covered in blood. Puddles of it were dark and stagnant in the waiting room, but sodden streaks went down the hallways. Quietly checking the directory map with a penlight, Richard traced the route they needed to take to get to the stairwell. It should go straight up to the roof, right to the whirlybird, which was where they needed to be.

So they ran.

They were about halfway down the hallway when the zombies who'd been just out of sight in the nurses' station heard them, and started to give chase. As their pounding footfalls rounded the corner, other heads began to lean into the corridor. EMTs and police officers, teenagers and soccer moms, all turned by the hungry dead came after them with the snuffling, shuffling, hungry snarls of monsters from a nightmare.

They made the stairwell half a hall ahead of the horde, and Richard paused just long enough to chock the door with an ax blade before they started up the stairs. The zombies managed to break through, but it bought the cadre enough time to get a few floors head start. While there were other snarls and grunts coming from the other hallways through the open emergency doors, they were far away, and not a problem at the moment. Panting, Otis hit the rooftop door hard, the three of them bounding out into the night. The chopper pilot, halfway through a smoke, jumped when he saw them.

"Get us in the air!" Richard bellowed at him. Before the door had time to close, Richard and Otis both grabbed a heavy equipment rack, straining with their backs and shoulders. It rocked, then toppled, hundreds of pounds ramming against the door. The zombies were pushing and scrabbling, but before they could get the door open more than an inch the three survivors were into the chopper, and heading out into the night sky.

Not A Single Combat Roll (Which Suited Us Fine)

While I've heard a lot of stories about All Flesh games that were high-octane runs through blasted cityscapes, or last stands against armies of enemies as parties of diehard survivors fight for their lives, this particular game did something very special for me as a player... it rewarded the smart choices of the group.

Ah ha... I see what you did there. Very well.

The fellow running this game went through all of our choices, and pulled back the curtain on what would have happened had we done things differently. Firstly, by sticking around the starting area to grab maps and listen to the broadcast, we figured out where we needed to go, and how we needed to get there. And we booked it fast enough to avoid a combat. Then, when we went to the garage, we didn't waste time going into the back lot, or digging around in the bays, where we might have run into additional dangers. When we hit the strip mall we kept things fast and quiet, and we didn't smash open any windows, or trigger any alarms that would have quickly summoned a few squads of curious zombies wondering what all the racket was. We chose not to go right into the main lobby of the hospital (more of a lucky choice than anything else), and instead of crawling through the bloody hallways we just went for the goal before the enemy could shake themselves up to react.

At first he was apologetic that he hadn't just forced encounters, but we'd made all the smart moves, and he didn't want to punish us for sidestepping the threats in what was supposed to be a survival game. However, as I said at the time, I felt far more accomplished for outsmarting the challenges and getting to the destination in one piece than I ever would have felt for just fighting my way through a huge pack of zombies just because.

I might be unique in that, but it's something I wish more DMs would keep in mind; if your party is making the smart moves, don't punish them for it... just keep things tense with skill checks and atmosphere, and let them see just how far they can push their luck!

Next Time on Table Talk!

This week we had a bit of a break, but next time we should be back to the Sandpoint Companions, and their adventures in the Runeforge! So, make sure you come back for the next installment of Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archives, as well as the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. Or, to check out books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife, head over to My Amazon Author Page!

To stay on top of all my latest releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, as well as on Pinterest where I'm building all sorts of boards dedicated to my books, RPG supplements, and greatest hits. Lastly, to help support me and my work, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly patron! Even a little donation can have a big impact.