Easthaven
She stands and looks at Zariel again, anger gone. Only exhaustion and resignation.
Rolls
Cure wounds 5th level - (5d8+6)
(62656) + 6 = 31
64 / 111 HP
AC 17
Exhaustion 2
Zariel rises into the air. She gives one last glance at all of those gathered in Easthaven to thwart the evil that took place here, then she lifts her head to the skies, to the supremely bright angelic form high above. Her wings rise, for a moment giving shade to those just below her. They come down hard with a thump, and ash bursts free from Zariel’s entire form as she streaks upward with supernatural speed. In the last glimpse before sight of her is lost entirely to the glare, her wings appear spotless and white.
The Ten Towns will recover. The Reghed barbarian tribes will once again roam the tundra. The orcs who died today will have their rest secured in a better haven than their kind has ever known, and those who live will build a home that will be known as a testament against tyranny. Your brave companion’s tomb will forever mark the place that you all stood together to stand against the worst that the Lower Planes could muster. And you brought peace to one of the most tormented souls that has ever existed.
On the behalf of all the Upper Planes, I thank you all."
This is the frozen land of wolves, wyrms, yeti, and harsh year-long winters. This is the tundra that calls to those who have no other place to go, but whose bright spirits give them the strength to eke out an existence far from the borders of civilization. This is the home of any who have the fortitude to earn it.
This is Icewind Dale.
As one last post, please write something in the Epilogue!