Dr. Adolph and his sanctum fade out of view, and you feel the now-familiar sensation of planar transit. The world reappears around you, and you find yourselves in the office of the Archbishop of Highmoon. His Excellency is not in the room, so you move out into the corridor. The female monk who took care of Tone after he got zapped in Hades is walking past, a look of consternation on her face. She sees you all and looks momentarily surprised, but then her expression settles back into the same disturbed look it held before.

"Oh, you're back," she says, her voice sounding strained. "His Excellency told me to expect you, but he didn't say when you would be returning."

"Where is he?" Derek asks.

The monkess closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "He is in his private chapel. Follow me," she replies. Ignoring your confused glances, she turns and heads back in the direction she came from. She leads you through a series of corridors, at last stopping at a set of ornate gold-bound doors. "His Excellency is within," she says, her voice almost breaking, and rushes away. You open the doors and step into the chapel.

The small, almost Spartan chapel is perfumed by the smell of burning incense and lit by the flames of hundreds of votive candles. As you move further into the room, you see the Archbishop before the altar. He is lying in perfect repose on an ornate marble bier, his eyes closed, a serene expression upon his cold face. Most of his body is draped in a blue shroud emblazoned with a silver cross, and an ornate holy symbol rests over his heart in his clasped hands. Three priests are kneeling before the body, praying in silence. Derek falls to his knees, his hands moving to his own cross, and the rest of you bow your heads in stunned silence, those who follow Ceridwah uttering the Prayer For the Fallen.

After a moment, one of the priests before the altar rises and approaches. He is a man of about sixty, bent with age and nearly bald, clad in the garb of a monsignor. "Rise, my friend," he says, placing one withered hand atop Derek's head. He then gestures for you to follow him out into the corridor.

"I am Thaddeus Winterbane, First Bishop of Highmoon," he whispers once you are outside the chapel. "His Excellency has explained the basic circumstances of your role in this catastrophe to me, and I don't claim to understand half of it. But I do know that he had instructed me to take care of you if you arrived in his absence-- and you all look as if you've been through a terrible ordeal." Only now do you all fully notice your own wounds and the tattered condition of your possessions, and feel the fatigue of the long battle settling over you. "Come and rest," he continues. "Most of the temple clerics are in the city, tending to the wounded, and my spells right now are held in reserve for emergency defense. But we can still heal you the old-fashioned way." He starts to shuffle down the corridor, beckoning for you to follow. Derek glances back toward the Archbishop's chapel, but the old priest shakes his head. "Now is the time for you to rest yourself, Father Arrowsight. Mourn for Archbishop Volespere later; he is being attended to, and his burial service will not be for another few days. We cannot help him, so we must take care of the living."

With those words, he leads you to a small infirmary at the end of the corridor. There are a number of beds here, but only one is occupied, its patient facing the wall and snoring softly. With the help of attending monks, you shed armor, weapons, boots , and bloodied clothing, and climb into the waiting beds. The monks begin to tend to your various wounds, and Bishop Winterbane sends for food and water.

"It has been difficult here in Highmoon, these past few days," says the bishop, settling on a stool near your beds. "Fortunately, the city walls, as they always do, responded to the needs of the people. The Jungle (a district in Highmoon covered by a magically-sustained tropical zone and inhabited by tasloi and tabaxi) and Ralllathil's Glen (the elven district) were totally surrounded by extensions of the wall, keeping their inhabitants in. The bridges to the Commons (the city ground reserved for grazing of animals) withdrew, and so did those leading to the Swamp (wetland district whose only sentient inhabitants are bullywugs, lizardmen, and a few swamp gnomes), which made defense from the rampaging animals a lot easier. Unfortunately, there was no way to hedge in the Sariken River or the Heights (a miniature mountain inhabited by aarakocra and abasta, as well as all the typical mountain animals; it doesn't border on the city walls and thus couldn't be surrounded by them), so we had to contend with assaults by sea elves from he river and crazed goats from the mountain. Plus there were all the elves who didn't live in the Glen, all the domestic animals, a horde of rats from the Shambles (the "bad" district) and all the humans who went a little crazy after that light dome saved us from the star being (that was when Nelil'i, manifesting the power of the Reality Sink before Alidin absorbed it, prevented one of the star avatars from destroying Highmoon.) To make matters worse, the orcs decided to go the way of their fellows in the south and began rioting, and half of the other humanoid communities followed. As if all that wasn't enough, elven mages began TELEPORTING contingents of elves out of the Glen, and Dengolath (the lich) attacked the city. It's a wonder we were able to resist at all.

"In spite of the many catastrophes, the city made a good account of itself. Abic (the wizard in charge of Highmoon's law enforcement) was able to band together a company of spellcasters and distributed them throughout the city to run damage control. Clerics from virtually every religion were out either healing or fighting, according to what they did best. The city guard was able to keep civilian death tolls low, which was surprising considering how many ordinary citizens rose up to defend themselves. I've always thought that the people of Highmoon could take on anything, and I guess they proved it." He smiles and chuckles. "Of course, this whole crisis did make for some strange bedfellows. The Crescent Web (Highmoon's thieves' guild) and the Crimson Angels (the assassin's guild) actually banded together and stalked the city, picking off the most dangerous elves one by one. The manscorpions who attacked about two years ago rose up out of the sewers again and made a fine resistance to the orcish forces. And I'm told that a group of Ceridwan priests who were tending to people in Beodon's Way (a human residential district) were saved from a pack of insane dogs by three cleric of Loviatar, who allegedly told them, "Tend to your wounded; pain is our job." And, of course, Lord Sycron was up there the whole time fending off Dengolath. I've never seen so many magical beasts soaring through the air as those two summoned to destroy one another. The battle between them must have lasted for the better part of seven hours. Finally there was a brilliant flash of red and blue light, and both of them vanished. No one knows what happened or even if Lord Sycron is still alive-- Dengolath never was to begin with.

"Of course, casualties were extreme even with the defenses. A substantial part of both the Craft District and the Trade District (the two main centers of the city) are decimated; repairs are going to reach into the millions of gold pieces. The sea elves sank half of the city's merchant vessels; Abic says he's going to see about raising a few of them as soon as he can get enough mages together to do it. The orc population has been cut in half-- although most would call that a good thing-- and the remaining elves, now that they've regained their senses, are going to be in for a tough time. Not to mention, of course, all the civilian deaths."

"The Archbishop?" Derek prompts.

"Ah, yes." Bishop Winterbane's face settles into a controlled expression of grief. "Two days ago, against the protests of everyone here, Archbishop Volespere went out into the city to help tend to the wounded. We admonished him to stay here in the Citadel (Highmoon's central fortified area, surrounded by an independent wall and containing the halls of government, foreign embassies, and the High Cathedrals of Ceridwah and Aeros), but he wouldn't listen; he said his first duty was to the people, and there was no excuse for conserving strength when innocents were suffering." He shakes his head. "Yesterday, one of Dengolath's summoned demons slipped past Lord Sycron's defenses and began assaulting the Grail District (a low-class human neighborhood). The Archbishop rushed there at once and tried to summon a phoenix to battle it. But I suppose that, given the state of affairs all over Galon, it's no surprise that he got seven moon dogs instead; both phoenixes were doubtlessly already engaged elsewhere. Rather than sending the dogs after the demon, he ordered them to go tend to those wounded by the monster's rampage, as moon dogs have considerable healing powers. He then pulled out his holy symbol, faced the demon, called out a prayer to Erichthus (the first Ceridwan martyr), and charged. He took on that hellspawn alone."

Tears form in the corners of the bishop's eyes. "Witnesses claim he was glowing-- I suspect that either he cast an aura spell on himself (7th-level cleric, sphere of All, surrounds the recipient in divine power which can do some pretty cool stuff), or Ceridwah granted him one because of his conviction. He dove onto the demon and wrestled it to the ground. We're not sure what happened next, but we surmise that the demon began draining his life-force and was poisoned by the aura’s holiness. It screamed and exploded; when the sulfur cloud cleared, His Excellency was already gone. We couldn't raise him; there's a good reason that shroud is covering him from the chest down." He shudders, and the tears flow freely down his cheeks. "But the Giver of Life is caring for him now."

Winterbane pauses a moment to compose himself. "At least the worst is over. The animals have gone back to normal, and trees are no longer attacking people. The elves aren't rebelling anymore. Now all we can do is mend the city's wounds, and those of the rest of the nation." He stands. "I must see to the ongoing rescue efforts. For now, all of you rest and don't worry; your part in this is over, and we have things well in hand. If you need anything, the monks will attend you. I'll try to get a few men with healing spells sent your way as soon as I can. And Derek, don't even try to get up and go helping people." The bishop smiles weakly and leaves the infirmary with the monks, closing the door behind him.

You all lie at rest for a few moments, absorbing what has been said. Suddenly, a voice sounds out of the corner. "Winterbane didn't say it, but he's probably going to be named the new Archbishop. I'd say his modesty is a sign that he'll do the job well." The figure who was already there upon your arrival sits up and looks upon you with swirling silver eyes.

"Oster!" several of you exclaim.

The wizard smiles. "I think so," he replies. "I came out of my trance just after the Hunt was driven away. Yes, I know about it; this raw magic inside of me gave me visions of the hot spots around the continent while I was in my trance, so I have a fair idea what's happening. But I'd like to hear your version anyway."

Oster listens quietly while you relate the tale of the last few days to him. "Amazing," he says. "Of course, no one outside Silvercloud will believe a word of it, but it's amazing nonetheless. Good work." His voice suddenly grows softer. "You do realize that Alidin probably isn't coming back this time."

"Yeah, he is," Derek and Brick say simultaneously.

Oster smiles sadly. "For his sake, I hope you're right. But even for him, this looks fairly bleak. We'll have to see-- but don't get your hopes up." He looks around the infirmary. "And you do realize, of course, that Bishop Winterbane is wrong about one thing. This is far from over.

"I've seen a lot of Galon the past few days, and it's not the same place. Entire towns have been wiped off the map. The elvish armies have seized the Telore/Menellwon Neutral Zone (the strip of land separating the elvish land of Tulmish from Comrir) and are still massed at the border; they may have regained their sanity, but that's not going to keep humans from counter-attacking, and the elves will have to defend themselves. I hope it will all be sorted out quickly, but I doubt it. The elven population's just gone up substantially with all the transformed half-elves, and a lot of them have become extremists; this has suddenly resolved their lifelong racial conflict, and they're more fiercely devoted to elven kind than most elves who were born that way. There's talk among them of trying to revive the office of the Green Emperor from the elven Imperial Period almost five hundred years ago, but I'm hoping that doesn't take hold.

"Economies are shattered; a lot of farmland has been totally overgrown or overrun. And some places, like Bluetree, were massively transformed (It became, literally, a massive blue tree). I guess it's a good thing Denzinger didn't apply that particular bit of humor to Silvercloud or Highmoon-- or Blue Dragon's Eye. (Unrelated footnote: on my trip to Seattle, I saw a hotel called the Silver Cloud Inn, and someday maybe we'll have a 1st-group pilgrimage there. Seattle is a town amenable to gamers and individuals of that mindset. You'd all love it.)

"And there's something more. I can't quite place it, but my magic-- this raw power I'm shackled with-- is sensing something. The world is different. More natural, less refined than it was before. I won't be surprised if magic begins to work a bit differently now. As it is, Artemis (goddess of the hunt) has totally lost power on Galon-- something about the presence of the Wild Hunt drove her out. Her clerics and followers are going to be left high and dry.

"Then there are all the political problems. Bragenmere (the small nation north of Comrir where that healing fountain was and where Othmar retired to) has been seized by the star druids. I suspect that they won't stay in power for long now that Denzinger is gone, but it's still a problem. Ironically, this whole affair has won them quite a few converts. Nothing like a show of power to turn men's souls, I guess. And then there was that matter of the attempted coup on the King by the Foes of the Wand (a group of anti-magical-item individuals with political interests). At least it failed, and it will probably spell doom for the Foes, but supposedly the king suffered a heart attack during all the confusion. He's holding together, but it's questionable whether or not he'll pull through." Oster shakes his head. "The death. So much death. And it's not over yet."

He brightens slightly. "Of course, there is good news. The last star avatar-- that one that was leading the orcs-- was killed by a party of adventurers somewhere south of the Purple Forest. I'm not sure who was involved, or for that matter what happened to the starforce that was released when it was killed, but it really doesn't matter, I guess. And rumor has it that Zaratan (the Markira-worshipping nation) is in chaos because of mass attacks by insane bats. Serves them right, I say."

"And Skedlin got whupped," says Belinar.

"Hollyphants are awesome," adds Brick.

"Indeed. You don't know how glad I am to hear that that shriveled old monster is gone for good. My only regret is that I didn't strike the killing blow. But now my parents can rest in peace again. (Oster's parents' bodies were eaten by Skedlin's ghouls.)

"Well, friends, let's face it. It's been tough, but we pulled through again. And once we heal up, we'll be ready to face whatever is out there." Oster's face suddenly furrows into a frown. "Now I just have to figure out how to get Randamis out of stasis; I don't know the necessary spell." (Randamis used a scroll of temporal stasis to keep himself from turning against his friends when all half-elves became elves and went under Denzinger's influence. Temporal stasis can only be reversed by its reverse (the 9th-level mage spell temporal freedom ), or by a wish .)

"Oh, well. I'll worry about it later. Nap time." Oster suddenly drops back into the bed and begins to snore again. The rest of you, fatigued by your ardeal, follow suit.

During the course of the next week, the clerics attend to your needs and gradually heal your wounds. True to Oster's prediction, Thaddeus Winterbane is named the new Archbishop of Highmoon. Archbishop Volespere's funeral is attended by over a quarter of a million people. He is buried in the catacombs beneath the Citadel, like all Archbishops of Ceridwah and Aeros in Highmoon. Derek is asked to be a pallbearer at the funeral which I assume he will do without hesitation. Abic the Visionary stops by to visit and gripe about the current lack of order in the city. News from the outside reveals that, all over Emrock Galon,:::::" class="wiki wikinew text-danger tips">the sole known continent on Galon, life is gradually returning to a semblance of normalcy. After a week, you are all healed of your various wounds everybody back to full hit points and the Archbishop pronounces you fit to leave.

As you step out of the Citadel into the sunlight of the first day of July, Tuesday, 687 PD, you hear a strange but familiar sound:

BOOMbuddaboomboomBOOMbuddaboomboomBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM

buddaboomboom...

And the urban world around you is suddenly replaced by one of leafy green...