A Dream of Iomedae

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Together, the adventurers find themselves in a large hall, brightly lit from high windows which allows golden light to spill into the scene below. Towering angels armed with longswords and shields and dressed in armour that shines brilliantly stand guard at the corners. Several others consult over a table covered with maps and reports with a diminutive dark-haired woman dressed in plate mail.

She looks up and notices the heroes. Her hair is cropped sensibly short and her face is scarred from numerous battle wounds. Yet she is beautiful in a truly unearthly way - not simply sexually attractive, but an embodiment of holiness, goodness and rightness which simply emanates from her presence. She steps towards them, her violet eyes resting one each one momentarily like an officer inspecting her troops.

"Very good," she says, nodding approvingly. "You have done more than could be asked of you. Yet there is much more to be done. I apologise that there is little I can do to aid you, for ancient laws and edicts prevent me for interfering in the mortal realm, even when the Abyss threatens its annihilation. But please accept this token of my gratitude."

She firmly shakes the hand of each of the gathered group, looking deeply into their eyes for a brief second. Although it is hard to discern, something significant has occurred.

"Good luck, go with my blessing," she says. A knocking sound seems to come from somewhere outside, growing louder as the dream begins to fade. "And don't let those bastard demons win!"