Filled with disgust, and a fury that would not wait a moment longer, the Companions stormed through the waiting room, and into an audience chamber. 227 was in there, as they'd expected, but so was a strange woman with a clearly infernal heritage, alongside two massive rune giants. The woman drew the weapon at her side, a shimmering scimitar, and when she spoke her voice sounded hollow; the delivery of a puppet master from somewhere off to one side of the stage.
Now was not the time for debate and discussion, though. The Companions had seen the black heart and rotting guts of Karzoug's enterprises, and there was no longer a need for words.
For all the Companions' fury, it was the strange fighter possessed by the malignant blade that rushed forward first. The blade dragged along Zhakar's ribs, piercing his steel skin and drawing blood in a dozen places. He returned the attack blow for blow, his blood sizzling where it struck the floor as if molten metal pounded through his veins. Thok rushed to his friend's side, his ranseur raking and slashing, leaving rents in the swordswoman's side.
Slow, but powerful, the giants soon joined the fray. Though they struck Ivory and Thok with crushing blows, they were not enough to turn the tide. One fell beneath Chikara's sparking ax, and the other fell dead at a wave of Mirelinda's hand, ghostly harrow cards whirling round it in a swirl that cut it to ribbons. As the infernal puppet fell, the sword reformed itself, growing legs and eyes like some bizarre insect, and running for the safety of the laboratory. Before it could pass, Ivory whispered a spell, and brushed her fingers against the blade. The air popped, and the weapon vanished into the very edges of the planes where it could do no one any further harm.
As Ivory healed the Companions' wounds, 227 got back to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth where the possessed creature had struck him. He limped ahead, prattling about the rooms they passed, and finally gestured the Companions forward. His master was through there, preparing a meal for them. Zhakar bent, and saw Karzoug through a keyhole, but the door would not budge. There was a strange enchantment on it, and when they finally found a set of keys that fit the lock they discovered that turning the key transported them somewhere they had no expected.
They were in the kitchen, yes... but they had been shrunk to the size of toys upon the table. Hams reared up like hill tops, teapots stood like fortresses, and across an expanse of pie and rolling loaves of bread stood the towering figure of Karzoug. He welcomed his guests, and asked them once more if they would not agree to join him. When they refused, parts of the table erupted, changing themselves into deadly enemies. An onion became a white dragon, an apple core a bat-winged devil, and a twist of licorice metamorphosed into a massive scorpion with black venom dripping from its claws and tail.
They fared no better than Karzoug's other minions had.
Zhakar took to the air to menace the dragon and the devil alike, keeping them away from the others. Thok climbed to the top of the tea kettle, and drew a bead on the scorpion just as it snapped its pincers around Chikara. Ivory whispered a spell, and when Thok's arrow flew the enchantment the Companions were all under vanished, and his arrow returned to its normal size, slamming through the creature like a giant's balista.
Taken aback, Karzoug fled the field as his creatures were torn to pieces. A shimmering doorway at the far end of the table marked what the Runelord had likely intended as the exit for the Companions once they graciously accepted his offer. With no time to waste, they dressed their wounds on the fly, and flung themselves through the portal.
The Fall of The Runelord
The Companions found themselves in a golden chamber, supported by a dozen pillars. Karzoug sat upon a huge throne, the gems in his head glimmering in the light. He was impressed with them. They were more determined than he'd given them credit for. But having fought so hard just to get where they now stood, did they really feel they could best him? In his own chamber of rulership? Ivory raised her voice, and entreated Karzoug one last time. He could end this... undo all of it. It was within his power to change things for the better. He sneered, and said he would show her what his power could change.
 |
You wish to see my final form?
|
With a silent whisper of his will, the chamber melted around Karzoug, altering and changing. Cylinders of thick, viscous liquid emerged from the walls, with dark creatures floating inside of them. The floor fell away, except for a central path leading to the seat upon which Karzoug sat. As the Runelord stood, though, the throne melted and parted, and Karzoug himself grew. His robes flowed, and his skin altered, his body becoming a massive form of war that still boasted the smiling, self-assured face of the man who had survived the end of the world when doom had come to Golarion so many centuries before. A relic of another age, convinced that nothing so young in this world could pose a threat to him.
He was about to realize that his hubris would be his undoing.
Unfurling his wings, a light shone from Zhakar. It was bright, but not blinding, and for the first time the voice that issued forth from him sounded like his own. A whisper that entered the Companions' ears, their minds, and their hearts. Light filled them all, and as one they turned their gazes upon the Runelord. Then, driven by the conviction that had been breathed into them, they struck.
Thok was the first to rush the dais, his ranseur cutting a swath through Karzoug's belly. Though the Runelord had laid protections across himself, Thok's aim was true, and his weapon blazed with the fury of both the divine, and the power of the Runeforge. He'd barely finished his swing when Chikara was at his side, her ax biting into the Runelord's mercurial flesh, chewing through his wards as if they were made of paper. Karzoug laughed, and light flashed. On the far wall, one of the cylinders shattered, and a creature fell out of the chamber. It had a body identical to Karzoug, but which bore the wounds the Runelord had taken in his stead. It fell away into space, vanishing into nothingness.
Ivory looked at the rows of cylinders, each of them holding a copy of the Runelord... and she understood why he had been so confident.
Realizing the full scope of how dire the situation was, Ivory shouted for the others to hold nothing back. She unleashed fire at Karzoug, the spell infused with the light granted her by Zhakar. Mirelinda concentrated, and plucked at the threads of fate, bolstering the destiny and fortune of the others. Chikara struck like she'd been possessed, and Thok slashed and stabbed as if his life depended on it... as indeed it very well did. Karzoug flung fire and force at Mirelinda and Ivory, bringing his sword down on those assaulting him.
As more cylinders popped, and the bodies within them vanished, though, he unleashed deeper magics.
In the blink of an eye, Thok and Chikara were locked within a prison of force. The Runelord shimmered with additional protections, and he laughed. The laugh was mocking, but deep within there was something... a single crack of fear.
Zhakar flew into the fray, hammering at the prison with his pick and attempting to parry the huge blade that Karzoug brought down toward his neck. Thok's ranseur sliced through the walls of the prison, and Chikara's ax burst it apart from within, leaving her panting and snarling up at the creature. Ivory attacked the cylinders directly, her spells smashing them open and denying Karzoug the regenerative power of his doppelgangers.
The Runelord had his arm raised, when Zhakar exploded in a burst of light. Thok and Chikara felt their wounds and weariness leave them, and Kharzoug howled, holding a hand across his temporarily blinded eyes. Thok, seizing the advantage, drove his ranseur into the Runelord, ripping at his weakest places. More cylinders burst, leaving Kharzoug alone before the panting, bleeding Companions.
Just as Kharzoug regained his sight, Zhakar leaped into the air. His wings beat a powerful charge, and with a single cry he brought his pick down into the center of Kharzoug's forehead. The runeforged blade shattered the gem set in the wizard's forehead, and drove deep into his brain. Kharzoug hung there for a moment, his body attempting to remake itself; to transform into something else. But there was no denying the inevitable; no way to fight against the darkness snuffing out the last of his life force.
Thus fell Kharzoug, who had thought himself the greatest of the Runelords.
Epilogue
Kharzoug's death reverberated through the realm, and the seat of power he had forged sat empty. The Well of Greed, which had been beneath his throne, needed to be bound to someone. If it was not, then Xin Shalast would tear itself apart.
Each of them felt the temptation. That desire to seize such colossal power. But they also knew that even if they did so with the best of intentions that it could lead to disaster. That it could corrupt them. The Well of Greed needed to be bound to a creature who could withstand its influence. Whose altruism was unassailable, and purer than that of any mortal's.
So they offered it to the realm of heaven, and to the angel who had been bound as a slave to the realm for so many years. It only seemed right that she should be the one to help shape Xin Shalast into something new. Something better.
 |
Huh... didn't see that one coming.
|
The coming days saw many changes come to Xin Shalast. The release of slaves that had been taken from the material plane, the shattering of bonds of those who'd lived in servitude in the realm, and the scouring of the wicked, the corrupt, and the degenerate. Succor was given to the weak and the wounded, and some of the damage Karzoug had done over the many centuries of his rule began to heal.
It was as the Companions stood at the gates to return whence they'd come, that Zhakar stopped. He had been contemplative for days, as if listening to a force no one else could hear. At the doorstep of a return to the material plane, he clasped Thok's arm, and pulled his friend into a fierce embrace.
"This is where our paths diverge," Zhakar said, the rune on his forehead burning and throbbing. "Would it were otherwise. But the places I must go, I cannot bring you with me. I wish you warm days and bright fires Thok, son of Uugoo."
Zhakar unslung the flametongue, the weapon warm to the touch even wrapped in its sheathe of dragon hide, and offered it to Chikara in both hands. It was a strangely formal gesture.
"Please, name one of your sons for me," Zhakar said. "When you do, put this weapon in his hands to mark the event. Then, when you feel he's earned it, give him the blade to light his way in the world."
He turned to Mirelinda, and reached into his pouch. He pressed a small vial into her hands. It glowed faintly, filled with a thick, viscous fluid. "I much doubt this is a surprise to you, but this is the greatest value I have to give. Should you need to find me, or to call me to you, inscribe the spell with this."
He took a last, long breath, pulling the air into his lungs before he turned to Ivory. "I have waited long enough. There are introductions I need to make... and a promise I need to keep before I can rest."
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