EPILOGUE
Around them stood the jungle hell of Turmish. Rusty's plane shift deposited them, expectedly, hundreds of miles from their intended destination.
They were isolated from civilization -- the perfect place to carry out their plan away from prying eyes.
Tilly struck first, plunging his blades into his former friend's back. Disconcertingly, he had to direct his lunge slightly to the side to avoid being struck by Rusty's severed and exposed spinal column.
Without a hint of pain or fear in his eyes, the dwarf began casting but his spell, and his neck, were cut short by Grimm's spiked chain. As Tilly withdrew his weapons, the dwarf's headless body crumbled to dust.
Wordlessly, they began to gather the Cleric's belongings as Dalthon prepared to teleport them directly to Red Gorge.
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Patrons stared in wonder at the half-ogre in the corner of the Redhead Miner’s Inn, as he downed yet another round of ale. Grimm had become a fixture in Red Gorge over the last several months, serving alternatively as a bouncer, the head of the town's militia, and a raging alcoholic.
The nightmares had come slowly at first and were not unexpected. He still bore the Smoking Eye after all, despite an effort at removing it (Jenya had managed to regenerate the eye, though the smoke never ceased bellowing forth). However, the dreams had worsened in intensity to the point where he could hardly get any rest. He spent sleepless nights simply staring into the star-filled sky -- knowing that Adimarchus would someday return for him, for them.
For now, Grimm guessed that the Demon Prince was concerned with rebuilding the shattered remains of Occipitus and his revenge against the hated Grazz'zt. The plans of immortals were long, convoluted and inscrutable by mortal beings. However, in his heart of hearts, the Planar Champion felt that his spiked chain would clash with the Ashen Blade in time.
Fortunately, he had been able to channel his mounting fear and frustration into a shield for the innocent and defenseless. With nominal help from the Chruch of Tyr, Grimm had personally repelled assaults from no fewer than five humanoid tribes eager to take advantage of the chaos swirling around Cauldron's destruction. His successes in this regard coupled with his sterling reputation as a member of the Bright Axes led to acceptance of his newly acquired vice by the citizens of Red Gorge.
In a few weeks, he would return again to Jenya's scrying pool to confer with the other Bright Axes -- most of whom had spread out over Faerun. They would compare notes and consider the most dreaded possibility -- the return of the Prince of Madness. Until then, Grimm's life would be drenched alternatively in the blood of his foes and the strongest of dwarven brews.
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The picture was one of a kind -- a magnificent rendering of an astral deva in mid-flight, her glorious wings bearing her aloft amidst a blue, cloudless sky.
It was all he had left of his celestial heritage.
Still, Dalthon wondered would have been if Nidrama had survived Entropy's assassination and joined them in their journey to Carceri. In one of life's great ironies the Sorcerer was forced to conclude that they probably would not be alive today. Sadly, the only thing that allowed them to survive a battle they had no business living through was the madness and raw power of the Alienist.
That reality was particularly difficult to bear.
Unlike Grimm, whom he saw often in Red Gorge, Dalthon's time was consumed with the study of arcane lore. In particular, his focus was on the legacy of Spellmason and his celestial heritage. He hoped to someday shield the community from interference by evil outsiders just as his ancestor had done generations ago. Of course, stopping demons such as Glabrezus seemed but hedge magic compared to the sheer power of Adimarchus.
His research had prompted Dalthon to suggest the bi-yearly meetings among the Bright Axes. Furthermore, he scryed upon his fellow adventurers on occasion using hair samples they left behind. If ever they were in mortal danger he would recall them with a bracelet of friends around his wrist -- each Bright Axe carried a recall bead for that very purpose. Dalthon sincerely hoped that he would never need to trigger these, but he feared the worst.
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Kiko thanked Ilmater for everyday he walked under the bright sun and the blue, open skies of the Prime Material Plane. His time among the monasteries of Cormyr in meditation and contemplation had given him an added sense of perspective after the monumental battle they fought in Carceri.
Though he had been slain quickly and therefore was only told later of Nidrama's betrayal and Adimarchus' escape, Kiko carried a great deal of guilt on his shoulders. Had he not succumbed to the Demon's clawed gauntlet, perhaps he could have made the difference. Certainly, he could have disarmed the Ashen Blade perhaps sparing Rusty's life and preventing his animation as a revenant.
Nevertheless, he reminded himself, he was in a land that was twice destroyed in recent months -- first by an undead horde and then by a Githyanki invasion. The horrors that Cormyr's citizens suffered were no less than his own and besides, he was far more capable of bearing such burdens than they. Indeed he was fortunate.
Kiko had donated all of his considerable wealth to the various monasteries he visited, which then sent the money to the needy of the Forest Nation. That comforted him somewhat -- for he had much negative karma to atone for. Though he had accomplished many good deeds in his life, releasing an imprisoned Demon Prince upon the world was a tremendous evil.
He wondered which would come first -- his atonement through continued good works or another battle to right the wrong they had committed.
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Normally, unregistered practioners of the "art" were caught and summarily executed by the Shadow Thieves. Robbery, blackmail, and larceny had been institutionalized for a long time in Amn and competition from "small business" proprieters was not appreciated.
However, they feared Maple Wayfarer.
Agents who were sent to stop her unauthorized activities routinely went missing. Diviniation magic had generally shown them to be deceased though their equipment and corpses were never recovered. Larger strike forces had met similar fates.
Amn was a big city, the guild leaders had decided, too big to continue to waste agents on one female who, in truth, was stealing but the smallest fraction of their business.
The Shadow Thieves could not know that Maple's guardian angel -- as it was -- was her husband, one Tilly Wayfarer. They could not know that unlike the rogues and cut-purses common to his race, Tilly's skill had been honed against giants, dragons, and evil outsiders of tremendous power.
No thief in the city could hope to walk away unless Tilly wanted them to.
He preferred this anonymity, guarding Maple discreetly and allowing her to conduct their operations in public. His face always registered a tight smile when he thought of the time that she toiled incognito in Cauldron while he was gallivanting around the Planes.
However, there was another reason to stay hidden -- even to employ powerful magic to augment his already great stealth -- and that reason had four tentacles coming out of it and bore an Ashen Blade. One of the Bright Axes would be attacked in the future, Tilly guessed, but he was sure as hell going to stack the deck against it being him.
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Thousands of tons of cooled lava was but a minor obstacle to an Elder Earth Elemental, as the ancient creature burrowed through the rock with ease. Jzadirune, the underground kingdom of the gnomes was open to the surface again.
Ike relished the opportunity to clear out the remaining skulks, grells, and duergar from the tunnels -- setting off several remaining traps as he did so. Not one for much contemplation, the Goliath found it easy to submerge himself in his work -- throwing off the spectres of their defeat by Adimarchus.
Meanwhile, Gunther had seen to the logistics of making Jzadirune into a viable dwarven stronghold. The Theurge had originally found Kazmojen's throne room and decided to use it as his own personal study -- abjuring it with several powerful wards. Once a place where slaves were trafficked, it was now littered with various blueprints and sketches. Like Ike, he had little time to consider matters other than the ones directly at hand.
Rusty, it seemed, had enough emotional trauma for all three of them. Not only had he been slain by the Demon, but he had been killed again as a revenant by the Bright Axes -- not that he faulted them for it, of course.
However, being one of the living dead had unmasked a level of rage and hatred that the Cleric never knew that he was capable of. Also, after his second "death" he found it somewhat disconcerting to be in the presence of the Bright Axes -- preferring the company of strangers instead. To that end, he scoured the surrounding towns, recruiting dwarves for his new kingdom.
Besides the fear of Adimarchus, Rusty had another lingering fear -- Entropy. The Alienist had made it abundantly clear that he was to remain a revenant forevermore. It was not uncommon for him to awaken in a cold sweat, just as the Claw of the Revenancer closed around his face. He hoped that either would strike soon -- he did not wish to put his newly acquired subjects at risk.
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"Corruption, decay, death, and nothingness is upon us Mistress Entropy."
She looked at the Kry'i'zoth with utter contempt. Though he was an accomplished Transmuter and served her well, his penchant for sarcasm and stating the obvious was beginning to get on her nerves. However, some things are worth the trouble and Houshang definitely fell into that category.
Allies were in particularly short supply with the destruction of her Undying Temple and its myriad undead inhabitants. Lolth, it seemed, had come back with a roaring vengeance as her drow -- repelled in their forays onto the surface world -- returned to reclaim their supremacy of the Underdark. Entropy did not really mind as administering her denizens was becoming a bore and she longed for a change again.
Her own actions had brought about tremendous change in the Realms. Cormyr had been destroyed twice over, the Dales were in financial ruin from massive, prolonged warfare, and the area around the Moonsea in political turmoil.
All was at it should be.
Kyuss was stirring in the Void.
Beware the dawn of the Age of Worms.
