Rise of The Runelords Chapter 14: The Taking of Fort Rannick

Sandpoint's heroes were far from home, but what had been a disquieting silence turned out to be far worse than any of them could have anticipated. Fort Rannick had been silently overrun by ogres, and their misbegotten kin roamed the high forests above the village of Turtleback Ferry. The ogre kin were slain, but the true ogres that held the fortress could sweep down at a moment's notice.

If no one stopped them, that was.

To get up to speed on the rest of the adventure, check out the previous chapters:

- 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

Finished? Excellent! Now then...

Retaking Fort Rannick

We can't exactly knock on the door and ask nicely.

While the Black Arrows are drinking deeply of their newfound freedom, eating for the first time in days, and having their wounds seen to, they tell the tale of how giants came down from the mountains and took them in the rear. Undermanned for years, and with their captain off in the forests for days at a time doing the gods only knew what, they didn't have the resources to stand against the creatures. A few had fled, but were trapped by the ogre kin before they could raise the alarm.

Fortunately for their saviors, there was a secret way into Fort Rannick. A side passage through a cave that just might let them get in unseen to spring a surprise counterattack.

A cunning plan was drawn up in the dirt, allowing them to see just what they were up against. There were a dozen ogres all told, though perhaps more now. While some watched the front gate, they didn't stand guard as men would stand guard. Vicious and brutish, the giants weren't soldiers. But if they were all alerted to a threat, then they might descend as one to crush it.

Unfortunately, the band quickly realized that was not an exaggeration. Because while Thok's hunter's instincts allowed him to move silently through the treeline near Fort Rannick, followed by Bostwick and Zordlan, Zhakar was never much of a woodsman, and his soldier's profile stuck out among the trees. Spotted by the ogres at the gate, they roared, and leaped off the wall. Eager to fight a lone figure they'd caught trying to sneak away, they anticipated a swift victory.

They were in for a rude awakening.

The giants were still a dozen paces from Zhakar when Thok's first arrows flew, slamming into the ogres and driving them sideways. Confused and angered, one ran toward the woods where Zordlan was drawing an arrow for his bow, and the other ran at Zhakar, his club raised. Snatching his short sword, Zhakar ducked and dodged around the massive club, cutting at the brute's arms and legs, always managing to stay one step ahead of the trunk. It wasn't until their captain joined the fray that Mirelinda loosed her magic, though, rocking the ogres back on their heels. Pressing their advantage, the brutes were soon slain. Before any of their compatriots could come to investigate, the companions fled into the small cavern behind a waterfall.

Cut Off The Head, The Body Will Die

The caverns were dark and quiet, but also empty of most dangers. Zhakar knelt and clucked his tongue, scratching a mating pair of shocker lizards whose haphazard discharges rolled right off of his skin while the others snuck through to the other side of their territory. A revenant rattled its chains in a forgotten crypt, but it showed no interest in crossing the confines of the consecrated ground.

Other than that, cave was fine!

The secret entrance of the cavern led into the courtyard of For Rannick... a place strewn with bones, and dismembered bodies. Some of them were animals... the others didn't bear thinking about. While one hunchbacked ogre stirred a pot and fussed with a drying rack, Zordlan drew a wand from up his sleeve, and whispered a word as he touched each of his companions with it. They quietly slid up the inner wall, one by one, crawling up the stone like spiders as the ogre cook stirred his pot and crumbled strange spices into the brew.

Once they were on the upper walk, they carefully stepped into the top floor hall. The place where the captain of the Black Arrows had his quarters, and where the men kept a chapel for those who served in the mountains. The hall stank of blood, and of the thick, cloying odor of something still living there.

The captain's quarters were first, where a pair of ogres were half caught in the act of copulation. Though surprised, they fought hard, with one half of the couple letting loose her magic and the other slamming a huge ax around the small space. Thokk managed to slay the warrior, leaving his own share of blood on the floor, and it was Bostwick who distracted the spellcaster long enough for Zordlan to drive his steel up under her arm and into her heart.

The fight had been brief, but they had no way of knowing if the sound of ogres mating and fighting were different enough to raise the alarm. Zhakar laid his left hand on Thok's shoulder, knitting the flesh together, before they opened the chapel. Inside was a slaughterhouse, where bodies had been desecrated, and then used as the components in some twisted ceremony meant to glorify a profane goddess. Another ogre, bigger than the others and drenched in blood, turned to see who had disturbed him. He launched himself forward, howling as battle was joined.

Zhakar grabbed the descending spear head, wrenching it aside with his gauntleted hand. Green fire lit in his eye, the skin flaking away as it pulsed, revealing the gleaming steel beneath. His sword chimed as it cleared his sheathe, and bit deep when he sank it into the ogre. Surprised, and enraged, the creature fought on, blood pulsing from its side. Zordlan ducked a swing of the huge spear, angling to take their enemy in the rear, but the creature's thick hide turned the point of the elf's rapier. Mirelinda retreated from the creature, a long, willow wand flinging bolts of magic at the monster. Thok fell for its feint, and felt the whole weight of the spear slam through his side, driving him from the room. Just as the Numerian fell against the wall, Zhakar's blade slid between the ogre's ribs, and the mad flames roaring in the creature's eyes went out. It fell to the ground with a thud that nearly shook the walls.

What Lies Beneath

Though gravely wounded, Thok was on his feet after a slug of the sweet water potions the companions had brought all the way from Magnimar. Which was for the best, as Fort Rannick was far from reclaimed.

Gods and devils, how many of these bloody things ARE there?!

While the ground floor of Fort Rannick was not overrun with ogres, there were perhaps a dozen of them idling in the grand halls, and building nests in the unused rooms. In no mood to leave their new home, the giants fell one by one before the steel and spells of the companions. Rather than feeling as if they were drawing closer to victory, though, the entire fortress seemed to be holding its breath. As if there was something lurking... something that was merely waiting for them to find it.

That thing waited in the bowels below.

In the dungeons below Fort Rannick, a woman awaited them. Standing in an open cell bedecked with comforts, her red hair shone like a blaze, and her smile was radiant as the battle-wearied and blood-streaked Zhakar came down the steps, blade in hand. Thok stood behind him, his initial pleasure at the sight of the woman fading into suspicion, his grip on his spear tightening. Zordlan was more pleasant, but even as he spoke he did not sheathe his rapier.

If rumors were true, this woman should have drowned in the lake months ago beneath an overturned ferry. Why was she here now?

Her question, of course, was why the companions had traveled so far to see little old her. They'd been heroes in Magnimar, after all, why come to this little corner of nowhere? Unless, of course, they'd read her sister's letters and decided they wished to join her?

Oh son of a bitch, not another one!

The lamia matriarch revealed her true form, and asked if the companions would consider joining her and her masters. Such service was certainly preferable to death at her hands in this godsforsaken rock pile.

In response, Zhakar merely raised his empty left hand toward the creature. His hand glowed bright as day, and the light narrowed to a pinprick in his palm. For a moment the dust in the room stilled, and a beam bright enough to leave purple afterimages across his companions' eyes streaked across the dungeon cell, and slammed into the creature. It smashed through her resistance, and she screamed as her eyes were burned blind in her head. Clutching at her face, the matriarch slithered back, lashing out blindly before she bellowed a single word, and vanished with a crack of imploding air.

"The answer is no," Zhakar said, as he lowered his smoking left hand. He flexed the fingers, waiting until the last motes of light had winked out of existence before he turned to his friends. Zordlan stared, all but open mouthed. Mirelinda wasn't far behind. Thok grinned, proud of his friend for commanding the light that he knew had lived within him all along. "Let's go get the others. Tell them we got their fort back."

Though the fortress has been retaken, is the giant threat truly over? What other dangers lurk in the hamlet of Turtleback Ferry? Find out on the next installment of Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal and Gamers 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.

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 13: Trouble at Turtleback Ferry

With Sandpoint cleansed of the undead outbreak, and the conspiracy in Magnimar thwarted, the heroes are about to depart. It feels like it might finally be time for them to part ways, and to return to their lives... until the Lord Mayor asks them for one more favor. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, of course.

The adventure to-date, for those who need to catch-up:

- 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 what would the Lord Mayor ask of the band of strangers who had become the toast of the city? Well, it's an unusual favor, and one that will certainly be filled with peril!

The Silence From Fort Rannick

Varisia is a large nation, and while Magnimar is both powerful and wealthy, it sometimes allows the outer territories to govern themselves unless something truly unusual happens. And while there isn't a panic, there is a noted silence from the town of Turtleback Ferry (so named for the massive turtle shells that have been turned into ferries that play the waters across Claybottom Lake). Normally they receive a regular correspondence from the rangers of the Black Arrows stationed at Fort Rannick, but there hasn't been so much as a peep. And while they could send regular troops to investigate, it would be so much more efficient if this band could assist the great city one more time.

The ferry is a charming place, really. You should go there!

While it's a long journey, and one that's quite far out of the way, there is no denying something strange hangs over the remote province. And when Mirelinda asked her cards what awaited them at the ferry, the blood drained from her face. Seeing the Harrower's expression was enough to convince the others that they should accept, and depart with full haste.

A Cold Welcome

Travel up the river took months, and the chill damp was beginning to settle in over Turtleback Ferry by the time they arrived. A small town barely worth the name, the locals were drab and distrustful, watching the newcomers with suspicion. Even Zordlan, with his silver tongue and glib humor, could barely get more than a few words out of the reticent fishermen and foresters.

"We don't take kindly to your type round here." Elves? "Bards."

What they managed to learn was that no one in town had seen any of the Black Arrows in months. Not since one of the ferries overturned, and killed a lot of people. Was dedicated to sin, that boat, full of vice and gambling. The woman who ran it was a beautiful, red-haired temptress, spoken of alternatively in tones of lust and disdain by those in the bar. Other than that bit of excitement, and the wet season rolling down from the mountain, no one had much to say.

A Lost Cat

Undaunted by the lack of welcome, the companions mounted up the next day, and took the path toward Fort Rannick. They had just crossed a bridge over a waterfall, though, when they head an unexpected sound; an animal in pain, and the strain of a steel chain. Cautious, but curious, they dismounted to see what could be making such a sound.

Get me out of this godsforsaken thing!

In the center of a meadow was a firepelt cougar, it's leg caught in a bear trap. The animal was trying to get loose, but as the companions watched they noticed it seemed deliberate. Smarter than an animal would be. And it watched them, not with a wild wariness, but as if it were trying to plead for their help. That was when Zhakar sheathed his sword, and approached the big cat. Thok came with his friend, though a bit more carefully. Zhakar whispered to the big cat, gently stroking its head while handing his adamantine sword to Thok. The big hunter studied the trap, placing the blade deliberately, before slicing through the mechanism. The teeth fell open, releasing the animal. Zhakar gently laid his fingers on the firepelt's leg, and golden light knit the wounds mostly closed.

The big cat had barely had a chance to put its weight back on its newly healed limb when the trees shuddered, and the hunter came looking to see what was caught in his trap. A hulking, malformed figure stomping into the clearing, malice in his one bulging eye. It was an ogrekin, surrounded by a baying pack of hyenas. One look at the broken trap, and at those standing near it, was enough to put a wicked, hungry smile on his face. He barked a single order, unslinging his ogre hook and siccing his dogs on the prey.

The battle joined, it was a dance they all knew well. Arrows were nocked and released, thudding into the ogrekin's torso. The giant didn't seem to notice as he lumbered closer, swinging his hook and hooting a war cry. The mangy pack surrounded the firepelt, but even with their numbers the cat tore into them. Bones cracked, and blood flew as it attacked with a ferocity far beyond that of a normal beast.

Slavering for the kill, the ogrekin waded in, hook swinging. It took Zordlan off-guard, but Zhakar caught the blade on his gauntlet. The giant hammered him over and over again, and Zhakar returned what blows he could. When Thok approached it from the rear, though, the creature howled in pain as the longspear lanced into its back. Its attention distracted, Bostwick rushed under, his fist smashing into the ogrekin's knee. Unable to fight on so many fronts, the ogrekin soon crashed to the ground. It tried to rise, but the firepelt was on it in a flash, tearing out its throat.

Led To A Cabin in The Woods

Bloodied from the battle, the firepelt barely waited for the ogrekin's body to cool before it rushed to the edge of the clearing. It stopped, looking back at its new companions as if impatient for them to join. Taking a deep breath, and not putting away their weapons, they followed the big cat into the woods.

I don't like where this is going... not at all...

The firepelt led them to what could only be described as a farm. But though the cabin was big and rustic, and the barn seemed quite sturdy, everything else about the place was wrong. It stank of sour meat, and spoiling moonshine. The cat padded to the barn, and pawed at the dirt, looking back at its rescuers.

When they threw open the doors to the barn, two more of the malformed ogrekin whirled to stare at them. With their mis-matched limbs, and dull, hate-filled eyes, it only took a moment for them to react. Swinging their huge hooks, they smashed through wooden railings, and took huge chunks out of the barn door frame trying to reach their foes. Zhakar stepped into one, driving his short sword under the thing's arm. Thok dodged and weaved, using the tip of his spear to push the other back into the barn. The cougar bolted up one of the rickety stairways, streaking for a door on the second floor. Zordlan took the opposite stairway, parrying a thrust from the ogrekin's steel and leaping up higher as he wrenched open the door.

Beyond, in the rear room of the barn, they found a huge, iron cage filled with the black-cloaked members of Fort Rannick's elite Black Arrows. The remainder of the room, though, was choked with thick strands of spiderwebs... and the spinner hung suspended from the center of the room!

Come into my den, won't you?

This new foe represented a unique challenge. The huge arachnid was too far away for Zordlan's steel or the firepelt's claws, but more than able to reach them with it's legs, webs, and venomous bite. Zordlan only realized this too late, as he feverishly tried to parry the creature's attacks, only for its fangs to sink into his shoulder. His cry of agony was what caught Thok's attention, just as he drove his spear through the ogrekin's throat. He rushed in, Mirelinda at his heels, and wrenched open the ground floor door.

As the spider turned her gaze to the Varisian sorceress, Mirelinda let out a shriek. Then, in the next breath, unleashed fire from her fingertips. The flames flickered across the web, burning everything in its path. The spider screamed, panicking as her lair burned around her. Unable to hold her weight, the spider fell, crashing to the dirt, splintering her legs beneath her. Before she could rise, or attack again, Thok drove his weapon into her grasping mouth, stilling the beast.

The barn catching fire, Zordlan hammered at the cage with the pommel of his sword, but the iron refused to give way. Zhakar finally brought down the ogrekin he'd been fighting, then sprinted up the stairs, already drawing his adamantine blade. Cutting through the lock with a single swipe, they began helping the starved and dehydrated rangers to safety. They were nearly across the yard when a hooded figure stepped from the forest, bow in hand. Then, as the barn exploded, Shalelu ran forward, putting her shoulder beneath the lead ranger's arm to help hustle him into the safety of the trees.

Within The House of Horrors

Taking a moment to regroup, the Black Arrows gasped out their story. Fort Rannick had been taken by ogres, as well as some kind of... creature. There had been giants as well, and their commander had gone missing. They believed he was slain, but weren't sure.

The fort would need to be re-taken... but first the creatures who lived in that cabin needed to be slain. The prisoners had witnessed things they could not unsee, and they spoke of the inbred clan that ran the farm. They also spoke of the grotesque matriarch who commanded her legions of ogrekin children. She was a potent threat that would need to be dealt with before moving onto Fort Rannick.

Necromancers... why is it always necromancers?

With the prisoners safe, and Shalelu escorting them back to town along with the firepelt cougar who had found her master in the cage, the others girded themselves to assault the cabin. As prepared as they thought they were, though, they couldn't have known what awaited them behind that front door.

The porch, the front room, and the hallways were filled with deadly traps, many of them left filthy and rusted to inflict greater pain on those who would attempt to invade the ogrekin's home. In a blacked-out chamber, three rotting sons stood at their mother's beck and call. The matriarch lounged atop a bed of filthy rags, stinking of sweat, filth, and corruption. Her undead brood fell beneath Zhakar's flashing blade, and Bostwick's fists stole the air from her lungs before she could cast more than a spell or two. Zordlan's steel silenced her permanently, leaving the obese necromancer lolling in the bed of moldering skins she hadn't left in years.

After the gut-wrenching disgust of the bedroom, the basement was almost a breath of fresh air. The last of the ogrekin brood waited, hook and chain at the ready to defend his home. Though he fought as hard as any of his brothers, and drew his share of blood, he was the one who fell. Perhaps the most unexpected creature of all, though, was the strange plant he'd been raising in the back room of the basement. Something that tried to swallow and digest its foes, while slamming the others to death. And though it did manage to swallow Zhakar, its meal didn't agree with it, driving a spiked fist through the side of its stomach while his companions hacked at its woody body and grasping fronds.

When the last resident of the cabin had been slain, the companions left the same way they'd entered. Mirelinda snapped her fingers, and a spark leaped onto the ragged curtains. They went up like kindling, and the homestead burned alongside the barn.

Only time would purge the stain of what had been there. But fire would have to do for the time being.

Will Sandpoint's heroes be able to retake Fort Rannick? What was the strange creature who led the ogres? Is the commander dead, alive, or something altogether worse? Find out on the next installment of Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal and Gamers 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.