quote:
"So this is how it ends."
An ever-expanding, billowing conglomeration of wrath bursts forth from Tiamat's hellish maws while the adventurers frantically try to do whatever they can to destroy the collapsing planar gate. If the gate is not destroyed, the Red Hand of Doom's stratagem will most certainly usher in certain death for not just the adventurers or Brindol, but the entirety of Elsir Vale, perhaps even the world?
If allowed to break free of her hellish prison, Tiamat will most certainly unleash her unbridled and apocalyptic fury.
Vaxfar takes a final strike at what remains of the planar gate moments before the rush of fire, ice, poison, acid, and lightning bursts through the threshold. The elf's magic sword connects solidly with a sinuous strand of sigils and causes a massive tear in the weave. Arcs of eldritch power race through the sword's blade, straight into Vaxfar's hand and then, propelling further through the elf's body. For a brief moment, the sigils completely surround Vaxfar, taking on the form of a swiling vortex of arcane power.
Then, a deafening roar of sound rushes over the adventurers as the gate implodes, binding within it a confusing psyschedelia of elemental plasma. Then a flash of light, followed by utter darkness...
***
Far away, in his impenetrable fastness deep within the rolling foothills west of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains, the High Warlord, Azarr Kul watches these events through a scrying pool. Eager to see his hard work, disciple, and utter devotion to this destined outcome realized, his face is awash in extreme satisfaction and accomplishment. Moments from now, Tiamat will come and then, with her, he will take the rightful mantle of dominion over the weaker races. Elsir Vale, and beyond, will be his.
The scrying pool becomes jumbled as he watches these new developments with growing horror.
"It cannot be!" he cries out loud.
The planar gate implodes, and with it, his ultimate scheme to call forth Tiamat.
Welling anger and despair bursts forth from the hobgoblin general. His plans, hopes, and dreams now adrift, lost.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" he shouts while falling to his knees at the foot of the scrying pool.
***
Minutes, hours, perhaps even days later, the adventurers regain consciousness in a blasted field that only vaguely resembles the land they once defended. The shards of war-torn buildings rise up from ashes, ruin, and the stench of death.
Completely covered in soot and dried blood, the adventurers look upon this bleak landscape. It takes a few moments to do, but after a time, they spot each other lying in a similar state nearby. Among the survivors, they also see several soldiers, likewise regaining consciousness. Tired, weary, and parched with thirst, the party awakens.
Glancing around, their vision eventually falls upon the Cathedral atop the hill. Though it is badly damaged, several towers still remain and rise in defiance of what has transpired at Brindol. As the sun rises, her rays shine through the massive stained glass window, washing the battlefield in a riot of early morning color.
Dawn has come to Brindol and Elsir Vale, hope against hope, the heroes victorious against the Red Hand!