Session 43 - Flight Risk

General Summary

The Clash of Giants

The first thing Cal noticed—and the thing he wished he hadn’t—was that these giants weren’t normal. Not in the way a thunderstorm isn’t just rain, or a nightmare isn’t just sleep. They were corrupted. The former clansmen of Mokmurian, who had once tried to free Karzoug, the Runelord of Greed, had been twisted by the abyssal ore Theyrium. The corruption ran deep, seething in their bones, like tumors of raw magic pressing against their insides. And they were angry. The Stone Giant Warriors didn’t just lift boulders—they manifested them, the air thick with the sound of grinding rock before the first projectile was hurled straight at Vaz'non, smashing into him with the force of a war god’s hammer. The Stone Giant Dreamwalker saw the opening and took it. His Dreamwalker’s Charm rolled out like a slow, creeping fog, settling into the cracks of the Ruinlords’ defenses. Tike Myson, caught unprepared, fell into its grasp. His mind folded into the spell, like paper in the hands of something far, far worse than a child. But Tike was strong. The Dreamwalker, its body shredded from the relentless assault from the rest of the Ruinlords, made one last attempt—one desperate, howling grasp for victory. He lunged for Tike, the Theyrium empowering his fleeing soul for one final assault. If he could not survive, he would petrify Tike and fuse him into his body. Make him part of the horror. But Tike was too strong, and the Dreamwalker was not strong enough. The Stone Giant Warriors suffered similar fates. They did not just die—they endured. Kept alive long enough for one final blitz, one last act of defiance before their Theyrium-infested bodies finally collapsed into ruin. Then there was the Sapphire Squad. They had been waiting. Watching. But Cal had been watching them, too. And as they prepared to strike, he swallowed the battlefield in darkness. The Sapphire Squad found themselves blind. Helpless. And when the last giant fell, the Ruinlords turned on them like wolves on wounded prey. Blood quickly covered the arena's sand. The last two members of the Sapphire Squad surrendered. Because they were fighters, not fools.

Ekalim’s Confession

Later that night, the air in the Coenoby was thick. The scent of blood and sweat was pinned to the walls like a curse. Ekalim Smallcask approached with his usual grin—but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I had another reason for entering you in these games," he admitted. "My sister, Lahana, disappeared after last year’s Champion’s Games. I believe she was involved with Loris Raknian." He took a breath. The kind you take before diving into deep, black water. "I need your help. I can investigate Raknian's palace. If you can slip away between battles and search for clues here beneath the arena, I will give you all of the winnings from these games." The Ruinlords agreed. Not because of the money. Not even because of the missing girl. Because they had seen enough blood in the sand to know there would be more. And maybe also the money.

The Silver Flight Arrives

Saint Alduin was watching. Seated in the spectator box beside Loris Raknian, his face was still, his eyes unreadable. Day Three of the Champion's Games saw the Ruinlords face off against only one team this time. That team, however, consisted of Saint Alduin's followers, the knights known as the Silver Flight. The knights moved fast. Too fast. Alfie went down first, blood painting the sand. Vaz'non nearly followed. These weren’t just fighters. They were predators—targeting magic and healing, carving through the team with ruthless efficiency. The Ruinlords fought back. Hard. And when the tide shifted, when the first member of the Silver Flight fell, something shifted in the spectator box. Saint Alduin’s confidence cracked. Just a little. But Loris Raknian saw it. And he grinned. Cal saw it too. Invisible, he watched Saint Alduin’s mask slip. The Azlanti tried to remain composed, but his grief seeped through. And then— Tike Myson broke Jylen the Inferno's neck with a devastating, two-punch combo. And Saint Alduin’s mask shattered. It took him a long time to recover. Too long. Now only the black knight, Korvix the Shadowclaw, remained. He was bloody, stunned, and alone. And he knew it. The Ruinlords surrounded him and gave him an out. "Surrender," they told him. "You don't have to die here." He turned, one last time, to Saint Alduin. Their eyes met. Saint Alduin did nothing. Said nothing. Korvix looked at Jylen’s lifeless body and stared into the red knight's glassy eyes as he drew his sword. It was already broken. A moment later, so was Korvix. Loris Raknian stood. Whatever his feelings were toward the heroes, he still found himself grinning like a devil. “The winners…” His voice carried over the deafening cheers. He already knew the answer. “THE RUINLORDS!” And in the silence that followed, Saint Alduin placed his helmet back on his head. Then he took flight and disappeared into the skies.

Rewards Granted

For winning the Day One combat:

A trophy and chest of gold coins worth 1200 gp (that were left with their manager, Ekalim Smallcask.)
A wand of Cure Moderate Wounds (10 charges)
A potion of Lesser Restoration