Near a foul throne in a dark realm, the demon lord Deskari furiously paced. His victory had been within his grasp, but now his minions brought him new reports of calamity and thwarted plans as fast as he could hear them. Deskari thought back over recent events, trying to find the point where events had conspired against him. Khorramzadeh had failed to kill that dragon fast enough. That had allowed her to save some then-meaningless mortals. Deskari would have slain the balor for his failure, but the Heroes had already seen to that. His minions had then repeatedly failed to assassinate the Heroes as their powers grew like a cancer.
Baphomet himself had allowed the Heroes to rampage around his dungeon while he cowered in fear, and then tried too late to stop them after the damage was done and his protections were gone. Baphomet had paid with his life for his indecision, and if the rumors were true his remains were now a mere toy for the Heroes’ necromancer. It was then that the worst report of all came in. The Heroes had gone to the Worldwound itself, and in their greatest defiance yet had used the Lexicon of Paradox to close it forever. Deskari summoned his great scythe and pulled the heroes into his realm to finally put an end to their tale.
Deskari scattered them about as they entered and appeared before the sorcerer. In a moment of exultation, Deskari felt the psychic fear-influence of his unholy aura spread among the Heroes. A moment later, the sorcerer struck him with a powerful magic ray and Deskari’s aura was destroyed. Deskari had only a moment to realize it was gone before his throat was filled with arrows. Deskari had a hundred visions of murder, of Heroes butchered, tortured, corrupted. None of them could be acted on, as his blood flowed freely from his shattered neck. Deskari fell, his last sight the Heroes returning to their own world and leaving him behind.
Deskari’s realm restored him, but the war was over. The Worldwound was shut and no power in the Abyss could ever open it again.
The party returned victorious to Kenebraes. With the Fifth Crusade over, they parted. Many myths spread of what happened to them after that day. Gathered here is the truth, as best it was ever known.
As the festivities ended and the cleanup began, Tane used his newfound celebrity status to effect some change. Unable, and unwilling, to lead other adventurers to becoming Mythic, Tane helped the other end of the spectrum. The Perfume Ward of Kenebraes’ Gate District is now home to the largest free school on the continent. Initially established by Tane to simply bring literacy to the street urchins, it has grown into a compound of artisans plying their trades and teaching them to others. In the upcoming decades, not a single artisan for a thousand miles would consider calling herself “master” without spending at least five years teaching at the school. With such a wonder in the city, the government has gone to great lengths to clean up the District and make the city a bastion of equality.
The party no longer actively adventuring or otherwise saving the world, Tane began shaping the realm into what he considers just and right. With the everlasting life and youth granted to him by his ring Tragwyddol, Tane spends his time studying ancient texts when he is not crafting powerful magic items. As new evils arose, he made it known that all plunder that would otherwise be destroyed can, instead, be brought to him for cleansing at the Purity Forge. In this way, Tane attempts to tip the scale by transforming evil into good.
The Savior Necromancer was a source of great controversy among those who studied the Heroes. His methods were clearly proscribed by all goodly faiths and laws, but he was unambiguously on the side of Good and had personally aided in the fall of the Worldwound. For Gith himself however, such debates meant little. He walked his own path and was beyond morality.
Gith continued his journey throughout Golarion and the planes in search of exotic monsters to make into his minions. He also attempted to unravel the few mysteries the multiverse still held from him. It was a long journey indeed, for his new artifact made him immortal. The decapitated and shrunken skull of Baphomet served nicely as a belt buckle. Imbued with a new consciousness, it constantly sang his praises forevermore.
Wase now stood at the end of one of the strangest journeys the planes had to offer. He had been bred to serve evil, but through strange pathways had escaped from his fate. From there, he had risen above even those untainted by demons and become a true paladin. Now he was the personal Herald of his goddess and was in fact the mightiest of all Heralds. From her right hand, Wase was sent on countless missions. from serving as a mighty ally in times of greatest need for the righteous, to delivering holy revelations to Iomedae’s prophets.
With the Worldwound destroyed, Bendak’s dinosaur jungle was finally safe. Bendak returned to Tolguth and lived in peace with his sentient mask and familiars among the towering trees, flowering ferns, and reptilian stink. For her part, Hook had seen enough of demons. Her urge for revenge sated, the velociraptor found a new mate and raised a new clutch of murderlizards to replace the ones she lost to the Worldwound.
Of the Poonisher, people whispered stories of one shotting gods and demigods. But, such is the hyperbole of gossip. The truth is, having done all he could to avenge those oppressed by demons and having achieved all the success he would as a mime, Francis the flying monkey sought to exit stage right on a high note. Why not let his legend grow?
Becoming more and more comfortable remaining invisible and undetectable for longer and longer periods of time, Francis began to withdraw more and more from the societies of men. He always had had some modicum of disdain for them so this was no difficult task. Without a lover to keep him bound to the region and all the wealth and glory anyone could ever need or want his attachment to this world waned even further.
This growing malaise combined with his newfound ability to plane shift at will made the exploration of other worlds all the more appealing. Now preferring to stay undetectable indefinitely, Francis finally grew so tired of Golarion that one day he simply vanished for good.
And, in truly epic mime fashion he was never heard from again.