Sessions 37-40: The End
General Summary
Flung forward in time, the Crimson 8 found themselves in a version of their world that was nothing but a wasteland of despair. Even much of their beloved Ember island was broken and submerged under dark, roiling waters. The sky, devoid of warmth, was a swirling mass of black clouds. The Darkmoon Dragon flew overhead, blotting out what little light remained in the world.
"We've failed," whispered Aralia, her voice barely rising above the howling wind. The halfling druid clenched her fists, knuckles white. “The Second Shattering is happening.”
A heavy silence fell over the group. The Crimson 8 had fought hard to prevent this end to their story. They had known Shar’s ambitions and the fought against her cultists and Dark Justiciars. They had endeavored to fix the imbalance in the Shatterlands, where the very forces of creation and destruction were fracturing the earth, splitting it apart and plunging the lands beneath the seas. They’d even battled the Shar's chosen, Jin-e, empowered and risen as the dark God, Mask.
Yet here they stood, in a future where they had already failed.
"We haven't failed yet," Vash, the group’s battle-scarred fighter, said, his voice strong but tempered by weariness. "We're still here. And as long as we stand, there's a chance."
His words stirred something in the others. Each of them—Aralia the druid, Gabriel the cleric, Rowan the wizard, and Dandy the bard—felt the pull of their mission. But where to start?
“The Temple of Tymora,” Rowan whispered, looking at the map. “If it's still standing, the goddess of luck may hold the key to turning this tide.”
With grim determination, the group made their way across the destroyed land. Along the way, they fought off creatures corrupted by darkness—beasts twisted beyond recognition, the monstrous servants of Shar. The further they journeyed, the more they understood just how far the evil had spread. The world itself was sinking into the abyss, as if the land was giving up hope.
They found the Temple of Tymora a great ruins. What once was a great courtyard with giant marble pillars to guide the way was now cracked and fallen. As they began to walk down the path, time itself seemed to ripple and twist around them.
The dragon struck without warning.
A colossal beast, its black scales shimmered with pearlescent hues , caught in an eternal cycle. Its eyes, glowing with the power of countless eons, narrowed upon them. This was no ordinary dragon; it was a Time Dragon, a creature whose very existence bent the laws of reality.
Time splintered as the battle began. The dragon was in two places at once, different times together.
To make matters worth, Shar's forces attacked as well. The group faced off against cultists and the dragon. The battle proved difficult, but they were victorious in the end.
"You are worthy," it rumbled, its voice echoing across time itself. "Tymora has not abandoned you. You may yet undo the fate you’ve seen."
As they entered the temple, Tymora’s voice echoed in the chamber. "Step forward, heroes, for time is now your ally. The future is not yet written. Return to when you still had a chance."
The group exchanged a glance—each of them haunted by the future they had seen, but strengthened by the knowledge that they could still change it. With a deep breath, they stepped through the portal.
The world around them shifted and blurred. When they emerged, they found themselves in a familiar time: three months before their disastrous attempt to balance the energies of the Shatterlands.
"Everything's still intact," Dandy whispered, looking over the side of the Efreeti's Fortune ship.
“We have three months,” Ember said, his voice thick with resolve. “This time, we will stop the Second Shattering.”
The Crimson 8 had been given a second chance. The weight of the world—and time itself—rested on their shoulders, but they would not fail again.
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The Crimson 8 moved through their tasks with newfound clarity, the knowledge of their past failures guiding their hands. They understood now that the strange, unclear figures they had once battled on Grumbaria were none other than themselves—looped in time. They were the ones who had stolen the earth gem from their past selves, a revelation that confounded them, but guided their path.
So, they followed the path once more, carefully retracing their steps. The earth gem, vital to the balance of the world, was stolen yet again—but this time, they knew exactly where to deliver it. They entrusted it to Cascade, the water guardian, with instructions to raise it when the time was right.
With their mission set into motion, the heroes found themselves with a rare gift: time. For the next three months, they rested and trained, sharpening their skills for the battle they knew was coming. They took over Bearstone Keep as their home for the time. Some tended to personal matters—Aralia visited the groves of this northern land, seeking guidance from the wilds; Ember trained endlessly to keep up with Vash; Gabriel renewed his connection with his god, praying for the light to carry him through the darkness ahead. Rowan's journey lead him to confront his parents, which lead to an emotional connection and the healing of much past pain. Vash's journey took him across the map to visit the grave of his old mentor and dear friend, where he came to realize that life was worth living and self-sacrifice was not his desired end.
The day of their destined battle arrived, and they met once again at the Temple of the Moon, their hearts heavy but resolute. The final clash unfolded with brutal intensity. Shar’s forces descended like a storm, led by Mask, the risen god of thieves and assassins and their previous ally, and Kedar, the Darkmoon Dragon that had once blotted out the skies, the child of Shar, and their once-dear friend.
Rowan wove illusions and spells, bending the fabric of the Weave itself to throw their enemies into disarray. Aralia unleashed her druidic might, summoning towering vines and taking on the form of a dragon to fight on even ground. Dandy, ever the heart of the group, kept their spirits high, transforming into a massive ape to tear through the dark forces.
Gabriel’s holy light shone like a beacon in the darkness, shielding his allies from the worst of Mask’s sinister strikes. Ember directed the battle, unleashing a storm of arrows and fire into the fray, while Vash, with unrelenting courage, swung his swords with furious precision, throwing himself between his friends and Shar’s brutal attacks.
Despite their strength, Shar's power seemed insurmountable. Even with the Darkmoon Dragon, Kedar, freed from Shar's enchantment and fighting by their side, the tide of battle was grim. Then, in a moment of divine clarity, the Goddess of the Moon spoke directly to Kedar, her voice rippling through the heavens.
"It is time," she whispered. "Embrace your divinity, Kedar, my child, and join the heavens."
Rowan, sensing the cosmic shift in the air, tapped into the Weave like never before, his magic pulsing in harmony with Kedar's awakening power. Together, they ascended, their energies intertwining, lifting them beyond mortality. As they rose, starlight erupted from their forms, painting the night sky with a brilliant constellation—a dragon and its consort.
The light of the stars rained down upon the battlefield, breaking Shar’s hold over her forces. The tides of battle shifted, and the dark goddess, robbed of her power, could no longer hold sway. The Crimson 8, bloodied and weary, delivered the final blow to Shar’s dominion.
But victory came at a cost. Vash had fallen, his body lifeless amid the wreckage of the battlefield. Aralia knelt beside him, her heart breaking as she held his hand. Yet in that moment of sorrow, a flicker of hope returned to her memory—the necklace. A gift from the druids, given long ago, imbued with the power to restore even those whose souls had been destroyed.
With trembling hands, she clasped the necklace around Vash’s neck and called upon its ancient magic. Light surged through him, his wounds knitting together as life returned to his body. Vash gasped, drawing breath once more, and Aralia embraced him, tears of relief mingling with the dirt on her face.
Exhausted but victorious, the Crimson 8 gathered the elemental gems and completed the final ritual. They restored balance to the world, preventing the Second Shattering and securing the future they had seen fall apart.
As they stood on the battlefield, the weight of their journey finally lifting, they looked up at the night sky. There, shining brightly among the stars, was the new constellation—a dragon and its consort, written in the heavens with eight red stars, representing the heroes who had fought to save the world, their legacy forever etched in the cosmos.
The Crimson 8 stood in silence, gazing upward, knowing their story was now part of the stars. It was a bittersweet victory—one filled with loss, love, and sacrifice. But they had prevailed, and the world, for now, was safe.
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