A loud knock is heard on the small elven Chapel.
“Open on weekends, go away, I am praying”
" To the wrong God; Open up now, Priest. Or we will have to invite ourselves in. We have much to discuss"
“We will not serve your new god, Zaor Ulatoris. You turned your back on us. We have served the same god since the beginning of time and she has provided us with safety and power over thousands of years. Turn away from the corruption and beg for forgiveness.”
“Come on now, you stubborn priest. Just embrace the power Azthar has given us! He is a god from all the worlds, not just this one! Besides, his ways are so much fun! "
Whispering to his companion priest: “Go out the back and warn the town”
“Last chance, cleric of the coward god. Open up and swear fealty to Azthar, or face his wrath.”
“You wont leave here alive, Zaor. We have heroes in town who will stop you.”
“We will see about that”
After 200 years of service, the Chapel and it’s head priest cave inward to the blast of Azthar’s Gnomish cannon. Fires burn the divine chapel as the cleric’s soul ascends to the elven heaven of tranquility.