The Odyssey Champions

As we turned in at the Temple of Bahamut, weary from our victory and unsure of what the future held, Cassandra consulted her cards. "Who was the woman who would not die, whom Deltavros knew?". Cassandra's magic showed her a vision, of a woman standing on a hill, young with flowing golden hair. By the sea near a cove, with a cottage that the woman lived in. "How're you, Phoebe? I need your help" (the voice of Deltavros). Phoebe was Deltavros' wife; we had "encountered" her at Deltavros' mansion in Temidaea (before Brom had joined the Fatecarvers).
 
Cassandra had drawn The Magician, The Lovers, and Death.
 
Cass went to find Rohrouk, who was still up studying, to convey the information. Then, she got to the heart of what she really needed to know: what Rohrouk would do now that they had won the Odyssey. True to form, the lizard prince wants to leverage as much of his status as champion as possible. "I can't be the king of two places at once."
 

Gold, dear God, Gold

We took 18,600 gp worth of gold, gems, treasure, and what-have-you from Deltavros' tomb. Divvied up, 3720gp per head. There was little shopping; everyone was holding their breath for the celebration
 

A party to remember

Two days after we turned in the horn of Deltavros at Ioun's temple, we were summoned for the closing ceremony and festival of the Odyssey.
 
Outside, the streets have been wreathed with flowers, bouquets in every doorframe and window. People are flocking towards us, music filtering every few blocks or so.
 
We were directed to the outskirts of the city, to a clearing ringed by trees and set up as a curated park. The center was home to a well-sized temple, packed with people inside and out. At the center of it all was a statue of Deltavros, his arms stretched upwards to the sky. At the statue's feet, the high priests of the Forcalish temples stood, waiting. Holding hands, the group approached the temple steps. All of the Daltavarian Sea was in attendance, with the crew and captain of the Shortreef especially in attendance and shouting in victory.
 
High Priestess Rivetta of Avandra snuck Rohrouk the warhorn only to instruct him to soon ceremoniously bestow it upon her. She spoke to the crowd: "We gather here, in celebration, to honor the blessings of the gods, who give us life. Who give us love, and who give us heroes. Who watch, as strength passes from old hands to new, and life takes root in the world. Will the heroes of yesterday please come forward?" Two people emerged from the crowd, an older female tiefling in shining chainmail and a male bearded human in equally dazzling armor.
 
"Rohanna Lex, and John Cadfriendel-- champions once. Do you witness this change in glory?" And the answer from the tiefling: "We do."
 
"Fatecarvers, will you pass what is won to that which is old?" Rohrouk then presented the warhorn of Deltavros.
 
Look upon them! Well gifted, gracious in victory, resplendent. Their road was not without hardship; they have lost close ones to them. Much is taken but much remains, and though they may not be --"
 
"But it is not done!"
 

A Return

Marching, in bright armor with weapons raised. "Victory is not won when there are those that still draw breath. We are owed a battle for the horn." High Priestess Rivetta crossed her arms, and agreed (with us). It was Rohrouk who spoke truth: how the Karakedai had many chances to seize victory, and failed. When the Karakedai accused us of cowardness and running away, our lord only replied that they meant nothing to us.
 
A small gnomish voice shouted out over the crowd: "Eat shit mountain boys!" Rotten fruit flew over the crowd and collided with the Karakedai's shield. Though they instinctively formed a phalanx, more debris and rocks were tossed towards the offending murderers.
 
The air was tense, and several of the high priests stepped forward. Seeming to cast a spell, they began to chant as their holy symbols glowed. The leader of the Karakedai said little, before turning on their heels to leave: "They will come, and all of you will see."
 
...To feasting
 
With little else to say, the religious leaders of Forcalish directed everyone instead to the feast post-interruption.
 
Cassandra and Eragon took a break to speak with the tritons in attendance (three of them). The were greeted by a triton, who turned out to be Avrios' father. Words and hopes were exchanged.
 
For Fathom, a shout came across the crowd -- "Catman!" from Sebastian and his family, with Ralhan in attendance.
 
Several people hailing from the Sister Isles approach Brom here and there, and Brom is doing his damndest to avoid every single one.
 
The crew of the Shortreef was excited, and celebrating in tandem. Captain Geratz was in especially good spirits:
Captain Geratz: Would you please ask me to take you somewhere?
Cassandra: Uh, yeah, I guess? Captain Geratz, would you be so kind to --
Capt. Geratz: HELL NO!
The entire crew, Fatecarvers included, burst into raucous laughter.
 
Rohanna Lex and John Cadfriendel were nearby intereacting with a small delegation of tieflings. Rohanna herself approached us, with a gift for the Fatecarvers: a key to the mansion that we earned as Champions of the Odyssey to live in Forcalish.
 
During a lull of the party, a woman came forward to introduce herself: Tavyea Turgenev, the grandmother of Turgenev (one of the Hunters). She passed on to us all the warm wishes of the Hunters from the north, but for Eragon especially -- "from Ivanka" -- she grabbed the elf and planted a kiss on his lips.
 
 
 
 

Eragon's dream

The day went well, and we all collapsed into bed a bit more fulfilled than before.
 
Eragon has a dream; he is swimming underwater. He can breathe, but the experience is still unsettling. Off, behind a forest of underwater jeko, a bright and shining city in the deeps calls to him. There's a rustle in the kelp nearby; Eragon is not alone in the water. An enormous glinting dragon, platinum-scaled (with fins instead of wings).
 
"Eragon."
 
"You've done well. I wanted to congratulate you. I am proud of you. Proud of him. And proud of my choice. I wish he could be here; but he is safe."
 
"I descended to the ink-black sea, to escort him personally to my domain. He serves with the seraphim now, and is pleased."
 
As Eragon knelt before Bahamut, the dragon spoke more. "No, Eragon. Tonight you bow before no one."
 

Epilogue -- West, and South, and Under

 
Somewhere, far away: rotted sails and damp wood turn to catch the wind.
Ancient priests stalk amidst jungle ruins, speaking of a world they believe in. Perhaps a world that never was.
And somewhere, at the peak of a mountain, a man with the pelt of a wolf on his head clutches his spear tightly and looks upon the horizon. Waiting.
 
(Cute a 10 week, 2.5 month timeskip)