The party has no time to pursue the dragon and his rider, because other enemies have appeared! Ettins come from a lair to the west, and cultist pour out of a passageway to the north. Brin and Tom hold off the enemies with fire and arrows, while Mella uses her magic bandore to grant Noram flight, allowing him to move them both off the island and join Brin. The ettins, quarreling among themselves, are easy targets; but the cultists prove more difficult due to their sheer numbers. Chuth himself reappears during the battle, surfacing from the pool and letting loose another blast of poison breath. Noram flies to confront him head-on, and Tom looses his remaining arrows of dragon-slaying. Together they very nearly take the dragon down, but Noram falls in the process. Mella shape-shifts to a giant eagle and pulls Brin away from attacking cultists, but the fragile form of the bird is soon overwhelmed by flying cultists. The bard is also knocked unconscious, but the sorcerer is able to fling one last flurry of magic missiles at the dragon, who is knocked out! Overcoming Chuth is a great victory, but alas, it comes at too high a price. The remaining cultists overwhelm Brin and Tom, and the adventurers knew no more. You awake to find yourself tied spread-eagle to the wall of the cavern, in the southwest corner on an open bluff overlooking the pool. Your belongings are piled in front of you in some sort of trophy display. Before you stands the exiled elven prince Neronvain, the rider of green Chuth, and a group of about a dozen terrified-looking elves. Behind them stand dragon cultists, weapons at the ready. The traitorous elven prince's face is contorted with mingled rage and grief. "The great Chuth has fallen!" he cries, and an agonized moan comes from the assembled cultists. "But his legacy shall not be tarnished by allowing the survival of these, his killers." He turns to the frightened elves. "With their own weapons, destroy them! Thus fall all the enemies of Tiamat, the great Queen of dragons!" Shaking with fear, prodded by the waiting cultists, the elves approach you. Some are crying, and others choke out apologies in voices too low for the cultists to hear. One older-looking man, better composed than the others, shakes his head. "If only you had come when the dragon was not at home!" They lift the weapons, and the last you see is the blades descending.
