Rise of The Runelords Chapter 19: The Secrets Beneath Sandpoint

Jorgenfist has fallen, and as the shamaness predicted, the fight went out of the assembled giants without Mokmurian present to stoke the fires of war. Cooler heads prevailed among the stone giants, who walked back into the mountains. With no strong hands to keep them in place, the ogres soon joined them. Jorgenfist was abandoned again, the treasure trove of knowledge and books preserved beneath it ripe for the cataloging.

But more issues awaited the Companions to the south... Sandpoint's secret was about to burst wide open!

Those who need to get caught up, the previous installments are here:

- 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

All caught up now? Lovely! Because back in Sandpoint...

What Was Buried Rises Once Again

When the goblin raids were first conducted on the town, Nualia was looking for something beneath Sandpoint. While she'd found some ruins left behind from the time of the Runelords, she had by no means found all of them. A quake in the earth had shifted the ruins, though, breaching a sealed entrance beneath the town. Strange smoke and the sounds of mad barking rose from the darkness the night before the Companions returned, and no sooner had they been spotted returning to Sandpoint than the sheriff immediately asked them to see what was down there.

Was this shit here last time?

Upon entering the opened chamber, the Companions found it filled with conjured smoke and vapor, making it difficult to see very far. But the walls were covered in script, all of it written in mostly forgotten tongues and by a particularly ancient hand. Scholarly writings that gave way to prophecy, which in turn spiraled into madness.

As Zordlan and Mirelinda attempted to make sense of the words, a booming voice echoed through the room. The madman who had been trapped beneath the earth for so long, seemingly alive and well. Even as Thok slid a set of enchanted goggles over his eyes they'd taken from Mokmurian, he saw no figure lurking within the room. Though he did see a colossal creature standing in the chamber beyond. Still enough to be a statue, it was filled with a raw, brute menace that said it was a trap just waiting for the Companions to put a foot wrong.

Before Thok could give a warning, one of them did.

Chikara howled in pain as an invisible blade slashed into her back. A figure in tattered black, with the wide eyes of a lunatic, grinned, and ducked back into the mist, laughing as he ran into the room. Before Thok could warn her not to, the furious half-orc was hot on her assailant's heels, bellowing threats about what she would do when she caught him.

As soon as she entered the chamber, though, the statue began to move.

Into The Pit, And Out of The Ashes

The demon had waited patiently, and as soon as it had a target it descended on Chikara with claws and fangs. A hulking beast with four arms and a maw the size of a cavern, the mad priest cackled as the denizen of the pit roared for blood.

Thok howled, firing arrows as fast as he could draw them. Zordlan ran forward, pulling his rapier and rushing into the fray to distract the beast. Mirelinda's cards began to shuffle in the air as she invoked names of the long-dead in preparation for a potent spell. Even Bostwick rushed forward, fearless as he tried to harry their foes. But Zhakar... Zhakar just stood there. For a moment he was transfixed by the demon, staring at it like a man who sees something he knows is unfamiliar to him, but which he's witnessed in countless dreams.

You see where this is going.

As he stared at the creature, a nimbus of light burned behind his eyes. The skin of his face flaked away, revealing shining, burnished steel. His right arm was rusted red, turning warped and thorny where it gripped his pick. As he stepped toward the thing, twin protrusions sprouted from his back, and a pair of huge wings burst forth. The one was feathered in purest white and silver, but the other was a dark, twisted thing; red and membranous like some infernal creature.

He rose into a charge, grim and silent as he streaked toward the target of his furies. The demon looked up from Chikara, raising an arm to bat Zhakar aside. He swung his pick, and when the weapon slammed into the demon's flesh, it did so with a blinding burst of light and a thunderclap. The raw power of that blow made the beast stumble, silencing the laughter from the madman who'd summoned it.

It was the turning of the tide. Chikara's ax bit deep into the demon's flesh, and Thok's arrows sank into its chest. Zhakar hammered it, driving blows with more than mortal sinew and fury. As the demon fell, its flesh melting into cinders and smoke, Zordlan leaped at the priest with his sword flashing. The two of them exchanged blows, but when the unholy man tried to flee he found Chikara's ax waiting for him, and it silenced his laughter forever.

What Fresh Hell is This?

As Zhakar fell back to earth, his wings pulling back into his body with painful, bone-crunching twists, he dropped to his knees, trying to breathe. The steel was quickly covered as fresh, soft flesh knit back over it, and the painful light left his gaze. Thok threw his cloak over his friend's shoulders, and patted him on the shoulder. The shaman's son knew that those who dealt with potent spirits were wearied afterward, so he said nothing.

The others cataloged the messages, trying to find what the priest had been protecting. Why he'd been down there, and what purpose he'd been about. What they found was that he had been trapped, and preserved with potent magics for centuries. That in his confinement he had written of the Runelords, their time in the world, and where they had gone with the great apocalypse had come to scour the earth. He spoke of a place past the Spine of The World, lost in the snows. Where aspirants might come to study and perfect their craft within the Runeforge.

A place of such potent power that weapons capable of slaying even a Runelord might be found.

Next Time on Table Talk!

Will the companions reach the Runeforge alive? What deadly threats await therein? Who will claim the Runeforged weapon to stand against the wrath of the awakening Karzoug?

Find out on 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.

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 18: The Taking of Jorgenfist

While the invaders were repelled from Sandpoint, it was only the first, probing assault to come out of the north. The giants are massing, and once they've formed a full spear, they will crush the lands of the small folk beneath them... unless someone can break that spear before it's ready to fall. The Companions are willing to take that burden, mounting up and heading into the wilds of the north, seeking a citadel that appears on no maps, and that is often thought of as a legend to those who weren't born with a giant's blood in their veins.

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 now, onward into the spire of the giants!

The Massing Horde

Finding the road to Jorgunfist was not easy. The Companions traveled through treacherous mountain passes and the biting teeth of the freezing wind, searching for a sight of what might be called civilization. They climbed the great stairs to the Storvald plateau, and that was where they were met with the first outriders. Stone giants who sought to crush the invaders, but who quickly found black-fletched arrows buried in their throats, and the ground opening up at their feet to swallow them whole.

That's a pretty neat trick... how many times can you do that?

When the Companions finally reached Jorgenfist, they saw the colossal fortress commanded a huge swath of the plain... but even the giant keep was not large enough to house the forces that had gathered around it. A battalion of stone giants had staked their claim to the west, and a sprawl of hill giants were camped to the north. The east was a chaos of ogres, several hundred of them, all sitting and stewing as they prepared to put their raw muscle and brute cunning to the test in the self-proclaimed king Mokmurian's upcoming war.

It didn't look good... the Companions would have to go through those forces, or sneak around them, in order to breach the walls, and have a chance at slaying Mokmurian himself. A chance they took just after sunset.

While the Companions destroyed the rune-branded ogres at the edge of the camp, slaying their Taiga giant commander, they didn't manage to evade notice entirely. Barely halfway to the walls of Jorgenfist, and a stone giant scout patrol spotted them. With the rest of the forces being roused, discretion became the better part of valor as they fled to the hills.

(Incidentally, this is why If You're A DM, You Should Get Your Hands On A Chase Deck.)

Though the scouts were frightening foes, able to cover huge amounts of ground quickly, the Companions managed to slip away in the darkness, secreting themselves in a mostly hidden cave. Patrols of giants, and hunting squads of ogres combed the area, but as dawn came they gave up the chase.

What If We Go Under?

Unwilling to try their luck at a secondary assault, especially with the giants riled up and looking for outsiders, Mirelinda shuffled her cards to ask for answers from the weave of the world. She drew and placed, frowning at the messages, and trying to make sense of them. Then she looked up.

Water from the dew had formed a small stream, and it flowed along the ground at the base of the cave wall. There were two pockmark holes in the stone. A spider crawled from one, peering out into the day to examine the new residents of the cavern.

It's a sign! Also, Thok, kill that thing please?

Moving with great care, avoiding the clumsy patrols of ogres, the Companions came to the cliff wall where the great plateau fell away to the east. As Mirelinda's vision had shown her, a river ran alongside the wall... and what looked like two caverns could be seen below the fortress.

Perhaps they were a way in, and perhaps not. The only way to be sure was to look.

Zordlan reached into his bag of tricks, and brought out the wand of spiderclimb that had served the Companions so well at Fort Rannick. Swarming over the side, they made their way down, counting the minutes in their heads. When they reached the cave mouth, Zhakar entered first, followed by Thok and Chikara.

In the darkness, something moved.

A huge, multi-segmented form scuttled out of the darkness, hissing and rasping. Cold as death, the massive, undead spider lashed at them with fangs and pincers. While Chikara hacked at it, her ax sparking against the empty exoskeleton, Zhakar's hand blazed as he blasted open a hole in the creature. The thing let loose with a hollow shriek, half its form crumpled and smashed away by the purity of the beam. Before it could limp away into the shadows, Thok sent a pair of blessed arrows into it, driving out whatever ghost had animated the creature.

It was far from the last threat to be found in the darkness beneath the fortress. The companions came across a furious kobold, as well as a scattering of redcaps, but it was when they found a huge, stone giant general that they knew they were truly inside the boundary of Jorgenfist. Falling on the giant before he could raise the alarm, the Companions tried to take stock of where they were, and how they could find Mokmurian before their presence was discovered.

When the curtain twitched aside, every hand reached for a weapon.

An Unexpected Ally

The giantess who stepped into the room was different than the others the Companions had seen. She carried no weapon, and was not garbed for war. Her simple shift was almost religious in its simplicity, and she whispered rather than shouting. She had known they would come, and their purpose, telling them that if they would see Mokmurian dead, then she could lead them to him.

Trusting to fate, the Companions scooped up the spoils they'd found in the erstwhile general's chamber, and followed the giantess deeper into the caverns.

A calculated risk is still a roll of the die.

The Companions' new ally was a giantess of faith, and one who told them that it was only the sheer potency of Mokmurian's magic that kept many of the giants there. Without him, this raid on the southlands would fall apart. Her people would return to their mostly peaceful way of life, and the ogres would disband, unable to function in such a large group without a greater force holding the reins. She paused at a shrine, and left a small offering. Mokmurian had killed her husband for opposing him,she said, and she would see him thrown down, the great war machine he was building broken.

The Companions were all too happy to oblige.

The shaman pointed them down a pathway, warning them that it was guarded by fell forces. A warning the Companions took to heart, but which did them small good as the creatures guarding Mokmurian tried to block their path. A demon that belched molten iron emerged from the wall, its belly burning hot. It chose Zhakar to unleash its fury on, but the enchanted pick he'd taken from the dead general's quarters, along with the strange spirits that flowed through him, quickly put an end to the thing. A glowing, howling wraith emerged from where it had been bound in a door, swiping and sucking at their life essences. Chikara gave it the blade of her ax, and Thok pierced its heart with a flurry of arrows. A pack of Tindalos hounds thought they had the Companions surrounded, but as Bostwick's fists splintered teeth, and Zordlan's holy rapier slid between their ribs, the creatures learned the invaders had not come to play games.

The Fall of The Great Wizard Mokmurian

Beyond the final doors loomed a strange mist... and the scent of danger. The Companions knew Mokmurian awaited within, and that someone of his supposed powers would be prepared for them. Taking a deep breath, they charged once more into the fray.

Blow the door, I'm going in!

The mist was no mere smoke screen. A thick, enchanted fog, it sapped at the Companions' strength, and tried to slacken their limbs. Chikara forced her way through, followed quickly by Zhakar. Mokmurian, a towering stone giant dressed in a patchwork wizard's robe, was waiting for them. With a huge club he wielded like a staff, he wasted no time on pleasantries. He rose into the air, snarling words of power and unleashing his magic upon the Companions.

Chikara took the brunt of the assault, howling with fury as she tried to resist the spells he wove around her. Zhakar sent forth another blinding ray, blinding the wizard and sending him reeling. Thok coughed and spat, trying to put an end to the wizard before he could do any further harm. Mokmurian recited the words of an ancient spell, the ashes dropping away from his face as new sight returned to his gaze. Enraged, her strength siphoned off by the fog, Mirelinda pointed at Mokmurian, and spoke an incantation none of the others had heard before. A harsh, scolding command that reverberated like a thunderclap. The wizard stared at her, his mouth slowly falling open. The brutal, wicked gleam of intelligence faded from his eyes, leaving behind nothing but the slow churning of a brute mind.

His wits enfeebled, Mokmurian had nothing but his strength and staff to rely on. Potent weapons, to be sure, but no match for the tools the Companions had brought with them. In moments the hulking form of the would-be warlord fell from the air, settling to the ground in a puff of dust. His dreams of conquest and death stilled as surely as his heart.

But What Happened Next?

With the wizard slain, the Companions appeared to have stopped the giants' march south... but why had they gone in the first place? What did they need? And who lurked in the shadows, whispering into Mokmurian's ear?

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 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 9: Fox in The Hen House

The undead are roaming Sandpoint's countryside, threatening not just the town, but also their ability to feed themselves. If the ghouls aren't killed soon, and the ghast that created them stopped, then it could spiral out of control to threaten Magnimar, Riddleport, and the other prominent cities of Varisia. It was after slaying a pack of the creatures that our heroes found a key... a key that might unlock what's been going on out in the farmlands.

If you need to get up to speed, the previous installments include:

- 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

Caught up? Lovely! Because today our heroes get to the heart of the matter with...

The Horror At Foxglove Manor

Foxglove Manor, an aging mansion down a narrow and twisting walk from Sandpoint, was the ancestral home of the Foxgloves. Aldern, though, barely went there at all (or so he'd told the heroes when they rescued him), and spent most of his time in Magnimar. When they approached the house, it was easy to see why he preferred the city life.

"Haunted?" Haunted. "Weapons?" Weapons.

Foxglove Manor, a sagging edifice looming over a cliff face like it was considering jumping, reeked of the haunted, and the unnatural. The front door yielded, the lock recently oiled, but inside the smell of decay, and a kind of sweet corruption, hung in the air. Tapestries moldered on the walls, the boards threatened to give way underfoot, and it seemed like whispers shushed from every darkened room.

The house knew they were inside, and it was not pleased.

The manor seemed a thing alive, haunted by a thousand little furies. A stuffed firepelt cougar that seemed alive, but which hadn't moved at all after Mirelinda blinked at it. A portrait above the fire that seemed to wail sorrowfully, making Zhakar's cursed right hand clench. A woman's scarf that rose from a chair to try to strangle Thokk. Enemies not of flesh and blood, but of malicious spirit flooded the place as murders of crows gathered about the eaves.

As they went room to room, they began to build a picture of what had happened at Foxglove Manor. They found symbols of an esoteric order related to a strange, 7-pointed star. They also found hidden keys that led to a basement replete with arcane and alchemical workings. Someone, likely a previous generation of the Foxgloves, had tried to conquer death by mixing the draught to become a lich. They failed... but perhaps not entirely. Their soul lingered, after a fashion, in the very stones and wood of the house. Turning the crumbling manse into a kind of phylactery.

But worse things were found below.

Down In The Depths

Beneath the basement of Foxglove Manor there was a hole that led to a tidal cave. Though the cavern was filled with terrible creatures, including several more ghouls, it was what lurked at the bottom of the spiral stone walkway that was truly a horror. Aldern Foxglove, dressed in ragged finery, and whispering to himself at a fever pitch as he stared at his sallow reflection in a huge, polished war razor.

When he turned and saw Mirelinda, though, a change came over him. His eyes went black, and his tongue lolled obscenely from his expanding jaw. His teeth, cracked and filed to daggers, clacked, and he advanced, taking on the form of a full, mad ghast.

Undeath is not kind to the sanity of those afflicted.

While his obsession with Mirelinda was enough to drive his mad mind to the brink of collapse, the presence of such an anathema brought something out in Zhakar. That white light began to shine from his eyes once more, and the skin around those glowing orbs began to crack and flake away, revealing the gleam of steel beneath. He gripped his sword more tightly, and it burst into black flames. He closed with the creature, standing between the thing that Aldern had become, and Mirelinda. The ghast snarled and lashed out, but Zhakar turned aside his razors with his gauntlet, and the creature's teeth scraped against the steel beneath his skin. It raged and howled, slashing in a frenzy, but Zhakar barely seemed to notice as he stood his ground.

The creature's forward momentum halted, Thokk charged into its flank, driving his spear hard against it. The ghast seemed to dance away, the cuts barely harming its undead flesh. Zordlan hurtled a wing-backed chair trying to take the ghast in the flank. It hissed, snarling as it tried to dodge aside from yet another blade. There was only one of him, though, and every time Zhakar drove his longsword home, the cuts burned and bled with ichor. Aldern stepped away, trembling, and falling to his knees. He panted, and begged for mercy. He seemed, for just a moment, to be himself again. But then the madness that had consumed him reared up once more, and he surged to his feet with a roar of mad laughter.

Three blades that had been lowered pierced his heart, and left the ghast dead on the floor.

There was something else in that cavern, though. A strange, man-shaped patch of mold along one wall. It smelled... wrong. Worse, it reeked of disease, and wickedness. The remains of Aldern's elder, the ghost in the foundations, couldn't reach out and hurt those who had slain Aldern... but it couldn't be simply wiped away with holy water. It would need to be exorcised... something none present could do.

They found one other thing, as well. A letter from a mysterious contact in Magnimar. She spoke of pacts, of deeds, and of the seven-pointed star. They would need to venture south for aid in order to purify Foxglove Manor, but while they were there it seemed there would be other business to attend to as well. Business that simply could not wait if they were to get to the heart of who had unleased the undead plague on Sandpoint.

What lurked in the shadows of Magnimar? Tune-in for the next Table Talk installment to find out!

For more articles by yours truly, check out my Vocal page, or go to my Gamers archive to see only my tabletop stuff. You should also swing by the YouTube page Dungeon Keeper Radio, where I get together with other gamers to make videos for dungeon masters and players alike!

To stay on top of all my new releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. If you'd like to support me, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or going to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron. Or, if you're looking for a new book, you could head over to My Amazon Author Page where you can buy books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife!

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 8: Halfings and Ghouls

Sandpoint just can't seem to catch a break. No sooner is the threat of the goblins ended, than murderous undead begin filling up the countryside. With a handle on what's happening (if not who is behind it), or heroes mount up to try to put a stop to yet another brush fire before it can build into something bigger.

For those who aren't caught up yet, previous installments include:

- 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

All caught up? Good... because in this installment we're about to take another step down the rabbit hole surrounding the misfortune of one of Varisia's adventuring hot spots.

A New Friend, And A Whole Lot of Enemies

Returning from the asylum, and burying the unfortunate victim of the ongoing ghoul plague, Sandpoint's heroes found that the farmers had all come in from the outlying farms. The ghouls were rampaging, killing livestock, menacing the people they found, and it wasn't safe out there anymore. With everyone huddling behind stout walls, and the fields going to rot, it was only a matter of time before things grew worse.

Eager to set the cold thing in his guts to rights, Zhakar was only too happy to ride into the fields. Thokk came with to watch his back, and Zordlan came to help the people he'd known since they were born. Mirelinda groused about it, but her heart was only halfway in it. She knew there was no one else who could do the job, which meant she was part of the solution. The only one who remained behind was Chikara, who opted to make sure no threats attacked the town while the others went on the hunt.

Do you remember there being scarecrows? I don't remember there being scarecrows...

The first sign something was wrong was the silence hanging over the countryside... and the stink. A taint floated on the air, putting everyone on edge. There was no banter as they rode. None of the usual jibing or storytelling. Just grim purpose as they approached a scarecrow... and an ambush.

The ghoul masquerading as a farm distraction, leaped down, tongue lolling and claws at the ready. Two of its fellows stepped out of the fields, rushing into the fray. Though they were used to fighting farmers and peddlers, they weren't prepared for the assault they received. Zordlan parried the claws and fangs of a ghoul on the flank, running it through time and time again until he found the heart. Zhakar drove his fist into one's teeth, shattering them even as it tried to sink its fangs past the steel of his gauntlet. Thokk's bowstring thrummed, planting arrows into the creatures' flesh. When one fell and tried to rise, Mirelinda flicked a bone wand into her hand, and splattered its skull with a spray of glowing missiles.

When the dust settled, though, they heard another sound; a low groaning. It came from a scarecrow, but this one wasn't a ghoul. It was a halfling, tied to a crossbeam, with a bite mark at his neck. He had no fever, though, and the wound didn't seem to be festering or spreading.

Bostwick may no longer be welcome at the monastery he'd left, but disease had no hold over him. A fortunate advantage to have in ghoul country.

A Barnyard Brawl

With a new ally, and one who has a score of his own to settle with these creatures, they rode on. The oppressive feeling all around them grew, like an oncoming storm, and that was when they heard the moaning. It came from a barn, barred from the outside. There was a scrabbling, but nothing too determined. Someone had trapped a pack of the things before they fled.

Lovely... a target-rich environment.

They drew rein at the edge of the property, and Thokk reconnoitered the building. A dozen ghouls were pent up in there, listlessly shuffling this way and that. They looked half-starved, and particularly dangerous. Zhakar nodded, and drew his sword as he approached the gate. He and Bostwick would act as the bulwark, with Thokk and Mirelinda behind. Zordlan would act as support and a flanker, filling in gaps as they appeared. Once the plan was set, the bar was lifted, and the doors opened.

The ghouls snapped their heads toward the opening, charging in a single rush of mad hunger. Bostwick's fists flew, smashing a kneecap, and crushing another ghoul's pelvis. Zhakar's sword bit deep, tearing out streams of gore even as he parried claws and teeth. Every flick of Mirelinda's wand sent fresh streaks into the ghouls' ranks, and Thokk let arrows fly with impunity over Bostwick's head. Zordlan's song drove strength into his companion's arms, and his bow found more than a few marks of its own.

Beneath the sounds of battle, though, was another sound. A stranger sound; the grinding of claws against metal. Though some ghouls' blows were parried, and others turned away on Zhakar's shield, many of them struck home... or seemed to. The claws and fangs drug along the skin of his arms, his neck, and even the left side of his face, but no blood welled from the gashes. Instead, they revealed a layer of shining steel just beneath.

When the last of the ghouls fell twitching to the floor, it was Thokk who touched his friend on the shoulder. They conversed in Thokk's native language, one that Zhakar had learned during their long walks through the northern woods, but even as they talked the gashes seemed to knit themselves closed. The wounds, if wounds they were, gone as if they'd never been. Unsure of what to make of it, Zhakar rolled his sleeve down, and turned his collar up, before sheathing his sword. They needed to identify who was in that barn, and carry the news back to their families if possible. Whatever was happening to him would wait until that was seen to.

Who Is The Master?

Most of the bodies in the barn belonged to farmers and their families. But there was one that stood out... one that didn't belong. Its clothes had been finely made, once upon a time, and he still carried some of the tools of his former life. Along the figure's belt was a key wrought with a family crest... the Foxgloves.

Either Aldern was in trouble... or he was already far past saving.

That's all for this installment of Table Talk. What happens next? Well, you'll have to tune-in next month to see what happens to our heroes when they kick in the doors of Foxglove Manor!

If you'd like to see more of my work, stop by my Vocal archive, or just look at my Gamers page for all my tabletop stuff. Alternatively, stop by the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio to check out the show I work on with other gamers to make content for DMs and players alike!

To stay on top of all my latest updates, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter! And if you'd like to support me you can Buy Me A Ko-Fi as a one-time tip, become a patron over on The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page, or if you're looking for some additional reading you could head over to my Amazon author page to Buy My Books!

Rise of The Runelords Chapter 5: The Assault on Thistletop

The town of Sandpoint has been under assault by the goblins of the Nettlewood... but there are darker deeds afoot. Nualia Tobin, an aasimar who has given herself to Lamashtu in order to corrupt her own celestial heritage, is serving much darker masters. A small band of heroes have fought their way through the wood, dragging the imprisoned druid Gogmert with them. And now, they face the crumbling ruins of Thistletop, and the dangers that lurk within.

To get up-to-date on this adventure, previous chapters are 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 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

3 Lieutenants, and A New Ally

While Gogmert had been helpful as a prisoner, his demense was the Nettlewood. He knew practically nothing about what lay inside the crumbling fortress. There were goblins, he knew that, in addition to Nualia's other commanders; the bugbear Bruthazmus, the mercenary Orik Vancaskerkin, and the wizard Lyrie Akenja. And then, beyond them, Nualia herself.

Four on four? We got this.

The initial thrust into Thistletop took the enemy by surprise. Bruthazmus, long a terror in the region, was taken unawares while he was at his pleasure with several of his lesser goblin kin. Though he fought hard (literally and metaphorically), It didn't take long before both the bugbear and his paramours were dead in Bruthazmus's chambers. Though the battle was loud, telling the difference between a bugbear in battle and one making love is a subtle distinction for some, and it appeared the invaders still had the upper hand.

Until they were ambushed, anyway.

It turned out that Orik was quite able to tell the difference between battles carnal and deadly, and had taken the time to arm and armor himself before preparing an ambush. Though not to rush to Bruthazmus's aid, which was fortunate for Sandpoint's heroes. Zhakar led the way into the chamber, and was the one who took Orik's bastard sword across the shoulder blades. His response was swift, his short sword trying to duck into the big mercenary's guard while parrying the heavy blade with his gauntlet. Thok rushed to his friend's side, using his superior reach to put Orik on the defensive, his ranseur probing at the man's defenses. Orik was a professional, but once Zordlan leaped into the fray, there were simply too many blades even for his heavy shield and stout armor. He collapsed to his knees, trying to fight even as he drowned in his own blood.

Panting and wounded, though far from dead, the band proceeded through the halls. Orik hadn't bellowed a warning, but there was no mistaking the sounds of that clash. And unlike Bruthazmus, the battle hadn't been confined to a narrow room that was often filled with grunting and bellowing anyway. Cautiously, they advanced... but when they caught a sudden movement, they found Nualia's last lieutenant; the wizard Lyrie Akenja. Panicked and terrified, she'd been hiding in the hopes she could avoid being discovered. Rather than surrender, however, she tried to bring her magic to bear. While she managed to shatter Thok's ranseur, it was the only thing she succeeded in doing before Zhakar stepped in close and backhanded her with his heavy right hand. She was given a chance to surrender, but tried to cast a final spell. Another hard blow drove the wind from her belly, and the light from her eyes as she slumped unconscious to the floor.

Zhakar placed his left hand over her wound, and her breathing eased. Once she was no longer at risk of dying, the party captured her familiar, and carefully bound the enraged cat in a cloth so it couldn't escape. Then Zhakar took off the banded mail he was wearing, and slid the wizard into it, binding her ability to fight as surely as he did her ability to bring what spells she had left to bear. To be safe, she was also bound and gagged. Mirelinda used her magic to clean the blood from Orik's armor, and Zhakar donned it. He left the mercenary's sword, though, as he had no need for something so large and cumbersome.

With two prisoners securely locked in bare rooms in Thistletop, there remained only one threat left for them to face.

A New Friend?

It was when they opened a door to dungeon cells that they found something unexpected. Slumped in a far cell, her eyes simmering with resentment and fury, was someone who didn't belong in Thistletop. Big and hard with muscle, her skin was a green that spoke of lush jungles, and the patterns of scars across her body told a story of battle, as well as community. Though unarmed and unarmored, the callouses along her hands and the lack of fear in her expression testified that she was, indeed, a warrior.

Her name was Chikara, and she'd come north from the Mwangi Expanse looking to trade her skill for silver. Of course, in this case, she swore she'd fight by her rescuers' side if they would get her out of that cage. Vengeance on her captors would simply be a bonus.

Unfortunately for Chikara, and for the others, the creatures that awaited them in the next room were not of this world. The sinister baying of yeth hounds sent Zordlan running from the room, and Mirelinda was reluctant to approach them. Thok stood steady, but the beasts seemed immune to the tip of his spear, as well as the blade of Chikara's greatax. Zhakar had found a silver blade among Tsuto's effects, though, and had never left it behind. So when he struck home with the small weapon, the creatures howled in agony. The others retreated, with Zhakar holding the beasts back, parrying their snapping jaws, and driving the dagger home time and time again. The hounds soon became the prey, with first one falling, then the other following suit.

Spirits shaken, the five of them took a moment to regroup. Tossing back potions, and waiting to see if anything else dogged their heels.

The Architect of Suffering

They advanced deeper into the bowels of Thistletop, wary for ambushes and traps. Down a dark hallway, they heard something. A keening sound, rising and falling as if in perverse prayer. Though there was a trap near the door, they leaped over it, and threw the door open to confront the creature behind the crop of fear that had been sown in Sandpoint.

We've got you, my pretty... and your little dog, too.

Zhakar approached her, his weapons sheathed and his hand extended. When Nualia saw her mirror in him, down to the corruption spreading along his arm, she smiled. In that moment they knew there was no bringing her back from what she'd become. Madness burned in her eyes, and she howled like one of her yeth hounds that answered her summons as she leaped into the fray.

The response from Zhakar was equally strong. Black fire burned on the knuckles of his devil's grip, and white light shot from his eyes. Slipping her first slash, he hammered the palm of his hand into her chest. Fear joined the madness in her gaze, as the touch took hold of her, putting doubt into her every swing. Zhakar drew his blade, then, and drove into her, aiming the tip of his sword for the scars along her belly, the exposed hollow of her throat, and for the dark veins of her own demonic arm. Zordlan joined the fray, his song lending strength to his allies' attacks even as he fenced with the snapping jaws of another yeth hound. Chikara, determined to prove her worth, attacked with reckless abandon, her weapon driving past the creature's otherworldly protections. Thok slid through the fray, his spear point striking like a serpent. And, from the doorway, Mirelinda tested her arcane might against the protections of the Mother of Monsters.

After a furious battle, the yeth hounds were sent back whence they'd come. And despite the gifts of her new mistress, Nualia fell. When Zhakar reached for her, his left hand already emanating a gentle glow, Nualia's scars tore open from within. Fanged maws and grasping tendrils ripped at her flesh, bending her in half at the spine. She shrieked, screaming as her own promises rent her apart, devouring her until there was nothing left but spatters of blood, and the smell of corrupted afterbirth.

The fires dimmed, and somewhere in the ether was the barking laugh of a mad hyena. The glow faded from Zhakar's hand, and he retrieved his gauntlet. Hiding the shame that drove him from his home, he turned from the belly of the beast. His silence was a cold, empty thing, and it left a blackness in his wake that turned their victory sour. There were prisoners to deliver to Hemlock, and when that chore was complete, a more thorough scouring of the fort would be necessary. But for now there was no denying that, for at least one member of the company, heady wine had turned to ashes in his mouth.

What other secrets lie beneath Thistletop? And what is the dark origin of Zhakar's curse? Find out more on the next installment of Table Talk!

For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive (or click for my Gamers page), and stop by the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out from time to time. To stay on top of all my releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you want to help support my work here, you can leave me a tip by Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or becoming a patron over on The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page. A little bit of help goes a long way, trust me, and there's some free stuff in it for you as a thank you, as well!

Rise of The Runelords Chapter Three: The Sin Pit

When last we left our intrepid adventurers. Thok and Zhakar had delved into the glassworks, and saved Ameiko from the clutches of her scheming half-brother. There is more going on in the depths of the glassworks, though, and for that these two mysterious strangers will need the full strength of their allies.

For those who aren't caught up yet, previous chapters can be found 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 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

What lies in the darkness below Sandpoint? We're about to find out.

What Lies Beneath

Once Tsuto was remanded to the custody of Sheriff Hemlock, and Ameiko placed in the care of Father Zanthus for healing, Zhakar and Thok sought their allies to deal with the greater potential threat. They found Zordlan in the common room of the Rusty Dragon, and Mirelinda near the wagons haggling over a trinket. When they saw the looks on the two warriors' faces, both the elf and the Varisian knew something dire was afoot.

Though what it was, they could not have guessed.

They formed up, and told Sheriff Hemlock where they were going. The suggested that guards should keep an eye on the glassworks, and make sure that nothing slipped past them into Sandpoint. Then, shields strapped and weapons ready, they descended into the glassworks' basement, and then into the tunnel that had been bricked over in the depths. Beyond it they found rough stone work, but it quickly gave way to ancient halls that bore a strong resemblance to the Thassalonian ruins that dotted the Varisian countryside.

These were no ruins, though. These halls had been preserved for centuries, lurking just out of sight below the prosperous town above. They didn't smell right, though. Something was alive in those tunnels... something foul, and hostile.

The Slaves of Sin

Stepping round a corner, a creature the likes of which they had never seen leaped forward to attack. It was malformed, its too-long limbs covered with ropy cords of muscle and tipped with vicious claws. There was no intelligence in its black gaze... just an atavistic rage that could not be quenched by anything short of violence.

A meal we were more than prepared to feed it.

The thing raked its claws down Zhakar's arm, drawing blood and curses. Thok, thinking quickly, thrust his spear over his friend's shoulder and jammed it into the creature's side. It had no interest in death, though, snarling, clawing, and biting at the pair of warriors. Zhakar managed to catch its next blow on his gauntlet, driving a hammer blow into the creature's face. It was Zordlan, though, who tumbled past the creature, and thrusting his rapier into its back. It gave up its awful vitality, and slumped forward, black blood pooling on the ground.

Shaken, but knowing there must be greater dangers beyond, they stepped deeper into the forgotten halls. Though there were other creatures like the one near the entrance, there weren't many. They came across an ancient statue holding a ranseur of masterful quality, a room filled with pits containing the living dead, and a mutated goblin overseer caring for them. They also found carvings of a three-eyed jackal head... the sign of Lamashtu, the mother of monsters.

The Wellspring of Wickedness

In the depths of the lost halls, they found a font of unholy water that smelled of brackish afterbirth, and a pair of double doors marked with the sign of the demonic mother. There was no choice but to see what lay beyond, and to do their best to slay it.

Past the sign of Lamashtu there was a cavernous room, with a pair of curving stairs leading up to a balcony. Atop the balcony was a bizarre bowl filled with swirling liquids. And above that bowl, leathery wings flapping and its tail thrashing, was an imp. It whirled on the interlopers, and smiled a razor-toothed smile. It hadn't been expecting them, but that didn't mean it hadn't been prepared for unwelcome company.

Even in hell, there is hospitality.

The imp drew a tiny dagger, sliced open its palm, and dripped its ichor into the strange bowl. Then, as the heroes of Sandpoint looked on, something crawled out of the bowl. One of the creatures they had seen below, with its mouthful of teeth and eyes brimming with rage. They were spawned from this strange item, and from the foulness of the tiny fiend's blood. Sword in hand, Zhakar rushed the stairs, Thok no more than a step behind. Zordlan sprinted up the other side, trying to reach the imp before it could escape. Just as they came within striking range, though, it vanished with a dark little chuckle.

Unsure where their true enemy was, Zhakar and Zordlan flanked the sin spawn, hacking it to pieces before it could reach their allies. Mirelinda shrieked, drawing their attention to the base of the stairs. A man-sized spider had appeared from thin air, scuttling toward her. Thok turned, howling in a combination of rage and disgust, slamming his spear through the thing's side. It gnashed its fangs at him, trying to crawl around his flank, but he was having none of it. Above them rang laughter as the imp admired its handiwork.

Zhakar stood at the balcony, staring at the infernal creature. As he watched, something flared behind his eyes. He laid aside his sword, shrugged his bow off his shoulder, and nocked an arrow. When he loosed, the imp's laughter turned to shrieks, the arrow piercing through its protections and raining its blood down upon the steps. It swore, and lashed back at Zhakar, belting him with a beam of crackling black energy. Though his knees tried to buckle, Zhakar braced himself on the balustrade, and continued firing.

Mirelinda backed up the stairs, spouting words of power and sending balls of force streaking toward the little devil. Zordlan took aim, but drew little blood as the thing's thick hide turned aside his arrows. Thok drove his spear through the spider's maw, piercing straight through its gullet and sending it back to wherever it had been summoned from. The imp's wounds, many of which seemed grievous, began to close. Zhakar reached for an arrow with his gauntleted right hand, but rather than nocking another shaft, his hand drew a vicious short spear instead. With a surge of strength, he hurled the spear, slamming it straight through the imp's heart. It shrieked, and flew apart, the shattered, smoky remnants each being sucked back to the hell that had spawned it.

A Plan Unearths

Just as the goblins were not the only threat to Sandpoint, the imp was merely a single piece in the ongoing chess game. But where were the more powerful pieces? And who was playing this game with the townsfolk's lives? Stay tuned to find out in the next chapter.

That's all for this installment of Table Talk. If you've got a gaming story of your own that you'd like to share, feel free to reach out and let me know! For more of my work, please check out my Vocal archive, or stop by the YouTube channel Dungeon Keeper Radio where I help out. To stay on top of all my releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you'd like to help support my work so I can keep getting content right to you, then go to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron, or just Buy Me A Ko-Fi. It really helps, and any support you can give is highly appreciated!