Scott's Rise of the Runelords Campaign

The Giants Defeated?

The heroes are tasked to rescue the hostages

Stone giants raid sandpoint2The assault on Sandpoint began at the north garrison. Boulders torn from the Varisian hillside were turned into missiles that tore apart the northern gate. The untested guard at the north gate froze at the attack – after a year which had included both an attack by goblins, the town’s glassmaker encased in a death cage of his own glass, the horrible retching sinspawns that dragged themselves from below the depths of Sandpoint – work in the militia had ceased to be a desirable prospect.

These raw recruits, now faced with an assault by what looked like moving pieces of the mountains themselves, screamed for the town’s protectors – the heroes of Sandpoint, the detectives of Magnimar, the lords of Fort Rannick.

Where could they be? They had come to the town’s aid before, and must be expected now, if this idyllic, once-peaceful town perched atop the white coastline’s sudden cliffs was to be saved.

Again, the heroes must come.

Again, the heroes must face the horrors of Golarion.

Variel – the dark, enigmatic elf who spoken in arcane tongues and whose disapproval could court one death. Geth, the holy man of Abadar whose sunken eyes and stern dispotion betrayed a callous, cold, unyielding commitment to justice. His brother in spirit – if not deity – Dmitir, who had befriended the town’s own priest. Jessail, the newcomer, an elf that seemed to smell slightly of sulfur and avoided all eye contact, but whose skill with bow and arrow was even deadlier than Shalelu Andosana, herself. Moagh, the foulmouthed and poor-manned dwarf whose strength with sword and weapon was matched only by his consuming rage. This was the party, and as always, they came, running, to the aid of Sandpoint once again. Once more, into the breach.

Giants had breached the northern gate but were quickly put down. Giants were wading through the Turandarok river to the east, the heroes raced to meet this new threat -

and then the sky lit up in fire. Crimson flames against the morning sky. The scream of an ancient creature.

Red dragon.smallOnly Variel knew what it was. He had never heard one, but had read of them countless times in the dark, eldritch and ancient tomes which had become his only, true friends. This was a dragon. By the sound – young, by the brashness which it flew over the town, probably untested in combat with such as these heroes. He had taken one of the stone giants from the north’s body hostage, but he began to finger the jar which now held the giants soul – if only, if only, he could trade it – what a price the soul of a dragon must be.

He and Jessail raced to meet it, while the rest of the party did battle with the horrible, spiked Dire Bears and stone giants attacking from the east.

Longtooth. A red dragon. A creature of myth – the sire of countless years of myth, fear, respect. Such an ignominious way to go, such a horrible way to meet defeat. His soul struggled against the magical container, enraged at the spell which had entrapped him. He knew he would be dead soon – and so called out to Mokmurian in his mind.

“Kill them. Avenge them for me, my master. My master, Mokmurian.”

The town was saved, but the threat was not finished. Two groups of stone giants that the heroes had not been able to defeat had destroyed the Two Knights Brewery – its large brewing vats torn asunder and Moagh adding his own tears to the beer drying in the noonday sun – and had ransacked Scarnetti Manor.

Worse, the giants had taken hostages. Gaven Deverin had been taken from brewery and Titus Scarnetti, and much of the Scarnetti family fortune, had been pulled from his home. The heroes must track these giants down.

Sheriff Hemlock and Mayor Deverin implored them to bring them home safely – and if possible – find out what could provoke the usually reasonable, peaceful stone giants of the Storval Plateau to attack.

Off went the heroes – some tracking the giants, while Variel pored over one of his necrotic maps, tracking the dragon’s most prized possession – all roads, all paths led the party to…

Jorgenfist.

“The mountains give way here to a wide valley perched on the upper edge of a cliff overlooking the Muschkal river. At the western edge of the valley entrance, a lone watchtower stands upon a low hill, but this structure is overshadowed by the larger one that looms in the valley proper. Here stands a ring-shaped stone wall, fifty feet its height and surrounding several buildings, the most impressive of which is a looming black tower with bladelike crenellations that overlooks the river gorge. Within the ring, a one-hundred-fifty-foot-tall stone spire rises, surrounded by three low buildings. Apart from the black tower, five smaller towers are built into the fortress wall – one of these towers is wider than the others and seems to be the only gateway to the courtyard within.

For this session, all adventurers receive 8,000 EXP points.

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scottmbruner

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