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Previously…

The Ruinlords entered the Champion’s Games as underdogs, but their first battle proved otherwise. Facing the Crowned Conquerors and their champion, Pake Jaul, they did not just win—they dominated. Pake Jaul, the famed pugilist, fell beneath Tike Myson’s relentless assault. The nobles who had hidden behind their wealth and magic crumbled under the Ruinlords’ fire and steel. When the dust settled, only surrender and silence remained.

But there was no time to celebrate. The next challenge awaited—The Mountain’s Fury, stone giants infused with Theyrium, and the Sapphire Squad, mercenaries from Absalom lurking in the shadows.

Not Sure What’s Going On?

You can check out our Age of Worms Session Recaps to see what started the Ruinlords on the road to stop the demigod of Death, Kyuss!

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Rolling Stones and Broken Bones

The Clash of Giants

The first thing Cal noticed—and the thing he wished he hadn’t—was that these giants weren’t just giants. They were something worse. The former clansmen of Mokmurian, once proud warriors, had been twisted by the abyssal ore Theyrium, their bodies humming with corruption, their strength warped into something unnatural.

And they were angry.

The Stone Giant Warriors didn’t just throw boulders—they summoned them. Great slabs of rock ripped from nothing, their edges gleaming with latent power before being hurled across the battlefield. One struck Vaz’non square in the chest, a thunderous impact that sent him skidding across the sand, gasping for breath.

Then came the Dreamwalker.

Its Dreamwalker’s Charm spread like mist, creeping into the Ruinlords’ minds. Tike Myson never saw it coming. One moment, he was with them; the next, his will bent, his fists clenched against his allies.

But Tike was strong.

The Dreamwalker, battered and desperate, lunged for Tike, the Theyrium in its flesh crackling as it reached for one final curse—to petrify him, absorb him, make him part of the nightmare.

But Tike refused. The Stone Giant Dreamwalker crumbled to the ground.

The Stone Giant Warriors endured longer than they should have, their bodies held together by sheer malice, but one by one, they fell. Broken. Beaten. Their deaths were not quick, and they did not die quietly.

The Sapphire Squad, however, had been waiting. They kept to themselves, watching from the far side of the arena, waiting to pound on the battered survivors. But Cal saw them first. He pushed the light away, drawing the shadows from nothing. Darkness swallowed the battlefield, and when it lifted, the Ruinlords were on the Sapphire Squad before they could mount an offense. Outnumbered and outmatched, the final two survivors threw down their weapons rather than die in a fight already lost.

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DAY TWO: Ekalim’s Confession

The air in the Coenoby was thick. The scent of sweat, blood, and something heavier—something like dread—clung to the walls.

Ekalim Smallcask approached, smiling as always. But his eyes told another story.

“I had another reason for entering you in these games,” he admitted. “My sister, Lahaka. She disappeared after last year’s Champion’s Games. I believe she was involved with Loris Raknian.”

He hesitated, the kind of pause a man makes when he’s afraid of the answer.

“I need your help,” he finally said. “If you can slip away between battles and search for clues, I’ll give you all the winnings from these games. I just… I just need to know what happened to her.”

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DAY THREE: 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.