Session Preface
Standing in what must be Malus’ chambers, you are somewhat surprised at the minimal decor of the room. For someone with such a strong self-confidence, the room is bare and stark. His bed is neatly made, warm thick blankets folded over. A small desk, which you have already examined, finding a number of interesting personal notes, mementos, and exchanges. As you leaf through the documents, you hear a crashing of metal, like bolts against a shield and a grunt of distress from Parathrax echo off of the ruined stone walls. Then, there is relative quiet once more and your elven ears can only hear the distant sobbing of Caltha and the heavy breathing of your dragonborn companion.
Vorothruun, your eyes open into the world once more to see the furrowed brow of your brother as a blend of confusion, despair, and hesitation wash over his face in a single moment. You feel, like an invigorating crisp morning gust, your cloak wrapped around you, dark and consuming as well as a shadowed crown between your horns.
Session Summary
Following Vorothruun's vision, the party exchanges words, discovers a secret treasure holding in Malus' chamber, and Wingbearer Caltha agrees to serve Vorothruun in rebuilding Ragnalla's following, this time to be known as The Watchers.
Vorothruun, Parathrax, Endriel, and Davan return to Durindale and for a brief moment, life seems to return to a semblance of normality and routine. Vorothruun returns to his studies, this time on the god of lies rather than his patron. Parathrax once again takes up the efforts of helping rebuilding Durindale, with Avraathe frequently on his mind. Endriel returns to his travels and work for the Harpers, with a keen interest to these new heroes and the role they will play in the days to come. Davan inscribes Endriel's bow and magical quiver into the symbols of Durindale, marking him a hero welcome to the Stoneway Inn always from that day forth.
Campaign Epilogue
It is only after returning to Durindale, finally experiencing rest and routine for the first time in months - years by the rest of the world's count - that the events of this strange and maddening quest begin to fall into place. In a bizarre interweaving of truth and deception, reality and visions, shadow and light, you have managed to recover an ancient relic of untold power, only for it to once again be severed and lost to fate and the will of an unspeakable eldritch entity beyond the stars and all unknown truth. But portions of its power have remained, and in fact grown, within Vorothruun himself, the now Chosen of Ragnalla. What burden this power comes with has yet to be seen, though there isn't a doubt in any's mind these gifts have not been bestowed freely.
As time passes in all but the strange area near Gil's workshop, a gnawing anxiety about the people and security of Avraathe continues to fester in the back of your mind. In your day to day routine, you find yourself considering distant and familiar faces, how they must be faring under the expanding grasp of the Platinum Scales. As you train and meditate, you can't help but consider your brothers in arms, many fallen, the rest in dilapidated keeps and no doubt demoralized by a defeat you wonder if you could have prevented.
In your dreams as well, strange visions, abstract and obscure, like you experienced during Vorothruun's quest for the Crown continue to swirl in your mind. Night after night, the same dream.
You walk through a fog of darkness. It fills your throat, burning your lungs. The stench of smoke and ash swirls in your nostrils. Above a storm grows, foul black clouds rolling, only broken by lightning illuminating the clouds from the inside out.
After an endless journey, you look into a valley and overlook Avraathe. The clouds hover close to the city's walls, choking off everything beyond the Platinum Temple.
The storm above continues to grow and swirl in darkness until you become aware the illumination of the clouds are not lightning, but instead are the furious wings and resplendent scales of Bahamut battling against the shadow and darkness manifested around him.
The giant dragon's form, silver and shining, defiant of the darkness drives into the shadows surrounding the city, piercing it if but for a moment. The darkness itself tightens its grip around Avraathe, disappearing yet the radiance follows. Your eyes follow this bright radiant light, racing through the city with wings unfurled, majestic and mighty, biting and tearing into the terror of the deep darkness with divine determination. All the while, the fog around your form froths like the storm above.
In the midst of this chaos, you see but for a moment the radiant light crest above the city. From the radiant light of silver shine, two sapphire beams glow and meet your eyes, piercing into your very being and three words echoes through your mind until it is all you know and could ever be. In a monstrous roar of pure power and righteous rage, the three words remain. Return. Protect. Avenge.
And all at once the light dives once more, descending into the abyss of Avraathe, giving chase to an unknown and ancient darkness now burrowed deep into the city itself. You wake each night in the dark quiet and peace of Durindale, these new commands each a weight against your chest.
Return. Protect. Avenge.
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