The four cult prophets are vanquished and their flocks dead or scattered. Valencia has been slain and her demons have fled the material plane. Imix, god of hungry flame, is dead at your feet. The elemental leyline is safe for now.
You leave the Fane, crossing through Drow ruins that are now totally silent. You utter the word “ember” and the enchanted lift takes you up, up into the flame cult’s foundry. The lava that once powered their dark machines has cooled significantly in the hours you were below. The blazing angry oranges have become sluggish reds.
You take the dungeon corridors east, through the earth temple, and begin the long walk up the old dwarven stairs into Renwick’s monastery. You make it to the surface just in time to see the last bits of sunlight dip behind the canyon walls, shining in golden-reds through the tall windows. There is a heavy haze in the air, but no more volcanic eruptions. Not even a cinder drifting through the darkening sky.
Ismor is the only member of the Parhelion still awake, nervously chewing on the end of a pipe. He gets up to his feet when he sees you emerge, a tired smile on his face and a laugh. A hug if anyone wants one.
You waste no more time. Some have waited long enough. The airship flies through the smoky night sky, back to the fallen Castle Aetherwick. There, Cicero contacts his ex-patron for the final time, and you feed Igsiloth the elemental weapons, still not sure what the being wants with them. With each weapon given up, Miss Nanny can feel one of the acorns pulse warmly as the freed souls of the half-fey children find their ways inside.
And after that… well… what is there to do after that? Over the last five months, this team of battered refugees has done something incredible. When you first met you made the valley safer by removing a prominent bandit lord form power. Now, you have taken down a god and perhaps saved the world.
Certainly, you celebrate through the night and into the day, when a thick white haze settles over the valley. Not one of ash and cinder, but of fog and frost. You get the feeling that Fror Dal’s strange weather problems are behind it.
And eventually, one by one, you go your separate ways.
We officially wrapped up the campaign today with epilogues. Thanks to @1000deaddraculas (Miss Nanny the Mannequin Hunter) @roaryrhian (Cicero Hearteater the Drow Lore Bard) @creekdontrise (Galina Crowe the Human Thief) @hivemindmonster (Sir Agnir the Fire Elemental Battle Master) and the thumblr-less Sortelli (Andre Wareshale the Dwarven Green Paladin) for being my good good players.
This blog will continue to post artwork from our new campaign, taking place far from the frozen tundras of Fror Dal. Deep in the fiend-haunted Jungles of Jharta, a cursed city eternally sinks.
