Krask and Fyn head to the Pinnacle to check out the situation. Again, there is no sign of living creatures here, so they call up the rest of the party and investigate the main floor entirely.
The center of the room has a large, smooth, stone circular depression in the ground. Fyn notices a strong residual necromantic aura emanating from the aura, as if something used to be here. He steps down and breathes in deeply. Suddenly, the magic takes hold and another vision confronts his mind, similarly to the one he experienced when walking through the occlusion field:
Once again, we see that tan boy with the dark hair, although now he’s a young man in his late teens. Likewise, we also see Thurbel, who’s dressed in more finery than he was when we first saw him in the market square. The sun is just cresting over a nearby hill as the pair walk along a cobbled road towards a small, secluded lake.
When they arrive, Thurbel snaps his fingers and the young man begins pulling vials and pouches out from the burgeoning satchel slung over his back. Apparently he isn’t moving quickly enough, as Thurbel sighs and wrestles the ingredients away from him, scowling. Within minutes, Thurbel arranges the ecoutramon around him, and begins casting.
A series of strange purple glyphs form in the muddy shallows of the lake and Thurbel continues chanting. The water swirls and swarms before a webbed demon emerges from the depths, its eyes glazed over with a milky white sheen. Thurbel commands the demon to shore, and the demon obeys, approaching the young man, who is watching in awe.
Suddenly one of the demon’s eyes returns to its normal state and it lets out a shriek as it claws viciously at the young man. With a cry of pain, he stumbles backwards, bleeding from a deep gash that extends along his torso. He collapses in the bloody sand as Thurbel quickly regains control of the demon, and the man’s eyes go lifeless.
We flash to the interior of a dark chapel, where Thurbel hands over a large bag of coin to a hooded figure. The young man’s body lies on an altar in front of them, pallid and gray. Again, the sounds of spellcasting echo throughout the room as bands of yellow and red light wrap themselves around the young man’s body.
The tendrils tighten and glow before reconvening over his chest wound, entering the man’s body. In a few moments GASP the dead man opens his eyes and sits up. Thurbel slaps him across the face. “Be mindful, Karzoug.”
The scene flashes again and we see Karzoug huddled over tomes in the middle of the night. His eyes, filled with life again, dart back and forth as he hungrily consumes knowledge by the light of his palm. With his other hand, he is casually flicking his wrist and muttering, morphing a pebble into a stone needle, and then into a circular disk.
As he turns the page, we see a piece of parchment folded up in between the pages. Karzoug lets the floating disk drop to the ground, and pauses to open the parchment. Written in the angular Thassilonian script, it reads: “Accepting Apprentices to study under the Magnificent Runelord Haphrama. Experienced applicants only. Wealth required.”
Another flash, another scene. This time, we see Thurbel squaring off against a huge multi-horned demon. Thurbel is keeping the demon at bay while it towers several feet over him. But Thurbel’s magic is strong, and Karzoug provides a weaker form of support, trying to impress his master with his own amateur binding techniques.
On the ground, the demon stands inside an intricate circle of salt, forming a restrictive barrier between the demon and the two wizards. “Karzoug! How many times must I tell you? Annuciate the initial consonants with an Egorian accent. I swear boy, I wonder why I even keep you around anymore.” brow
Karzoug frowns and furrows his brow as he concentrates, magical beams blasting into the demon as it tries to break out of its bindings. And as he continues his casting, a thin, dark shadow washes over his eyes. He looks over at Thurbel, clad in finery, with an assortment of jewels and rings. His arrogance. His stupid face.
Karzoug lets his left hand drop, turning it as if opening an invisible doorknob. A gust of wind rushes out from his palm, straight into the binding circle, breaking the link.
The demon bounds forward onto an unsuspecting Thurbel, sending them both to the ground. There’s a thick crunch as the demon’s weight crushes the wizards body, and a claw across the windpipe silences his bloody shrieks. The demon stands and turns towards Karzoug, who has already surrounded himself with a new ring of salt and runes.
With a grunt, the demon hulks away, leaving Karzoug standing at the massacred remains of his former teacher.
Hours pass before Karzoug steps out from the circle towards Thurbel’s body. Emotionless, Karzoug plucks the magical items and jewelry, changing out of his dirty, torn clothing and replacing it with luxurious linens. He looks down at the bloody mess, stripped of wealth and power. He snaps his fingers, and the body goes up in flames.
This depression in the ground reminds Krask of his time underneath the Glassworks in Sandpoint, particularly the pool that the sinspawn came from. Using Krask’s description, Fyn is able to make the connection that these are runewells. These magical creations are powered by souls; the more souls that are stored within, the more power that the runewell has.
At this moment, the party thinks back of all of the enemies they’ve killed over the course of the adventure, who have been marked with Sihedron runes. They think about the patrons of the Paradise, the gambling barge back at Turtleback Ferry. They think about the lamia’s comments regarding the efficacy of souls.
Have they been inadvertently aiding the rise of Karzoug?!
Emboldened by the gravity of their actions, the party begins ascending the spiraling corkscrew ramp upwards to the Pinnacle’s peak. After 1,000 feet, the opulence is astounding; everything is coated in gold, gems, and baubles. The Runelord of Greed certainly lives up to his moniker.
It isn’t until the party nears the top of the Pinnacle, at an astounding 2,000 feet up, that they finally here the sounds of voices. They’re not friendly, however, as four cloud giants descend the ramp and attack the party!
Immediately, Fobias takes a damaging blow from the lead giant’s oversized morning star. Richard’s advance is also similarly thwarted, nearly getting killed in a single hit. As the wolf retreats, Fyn gives himself some mirror images and Fobias some much-needed Greater Invisibility.
The cloud giants chuck a few boulders, but they’re nowhere near as effective as their oversized melee weapons. Barnaby and Trace step up to the frontlines to protect the rest of the party. Surprisingly, Fyn joins in that endeavor, his eight mirror images flanked by Trace’s defensive fighting techniques.
Despite the initial setback, the party manages to soak up enough hits before turning the tide with a pair of critical blows from Barnaby’s scimitar. At the end of the battle, Fyn has a single image remaining, Trace is suffering from one of the biggest hits he’s even taken, and Fobias is still reeling.
Unfortunately, the pounding of feet on stone resonates from the top of the ramp.
This is only the beginning.
How will the party survive Karzoug’s personal army? Will there be an opportunity to rest and recover? Why does the GM taunt the party with lies about levelling up?