I just finished the campaign and got the inspiration to write a short story. Changed some things to make it more interesting, but I hope you enjoy it!

Grisom furrowed his singed brow. He raised the last of his potions to his lips and drank until there was no more of his healing mixture. He threw the bottle at the Farrow brothers, but he was so spent that it shattered on the floor between them. He could feel Merick's deep fear through his furious demeanor; whom he already knew almost as well as his own traveling companions. Grisom's gift of augury had served him well on this journey, from choosing his companions to knowing which doors to open. From their first, rather awkward meeting, he knew Tahlia and Tetherys would keep him and his array of fragile potions safe. Grisom knew that there were many who would judge the pair's lifestyle, but he didn't care. They were a fierce pair, but easy enough to get along with, which he could not say about Quellen. He was a "High Mage", but Grisom knew there were no such titles among the elves. The young elf was full of himself, but as Grisom got to know him better he realized most of it was his way to hide his insecurity.
Grisom suddenly snapped out of his train of thought. Tahlia was still fighting with Alric's hound, but she had never before fought so recklessly. The hound had jumped on Tetherys and struck her down, which sent Tahlia over the edge. Alric swung his greatsword with unearthly determination around the room, even his brother had to avoid getting hit. Quellen traded spells with Merick, flame and stone dancing around the room, but the situation was getting desperate: the mages were both on their last legs, as were Grisom and Tahlia. The dwarf knew Alric, or whatever it was that was controlling him, would not stop until the room was silent.
Suddenly, Grisom had a vision. He drew his staff and struck the end against the stone floor. A bright light emerged from the crystal on top of the staff. He felt rejuvenated, but saw that it had a much bigger effect on Quellen. The mage smirked cockily and began a complicated set of motions with his arms. His spellcasting was quick and fluent in a prodigious way, but never before had Grisom seen him perform those rituals with such flourish. A hunk of stone shot up from the floor between the Farrow brothers and started vibrating wildly. "You lose" were the words Grisom heard escape the elf's lips in an almost ecstatic fashion, before the rock exploded and hungry flames engulfed the mad pyromancer and his undead monstrosity of a brother.
After the flames subsided, there was no sign of Merick, but the empty golden armor of Alric Farrow remained on the floor. Grisom hid behind the mage who knew how to protect himself from his own spell, and Tahlia barely managed to impale the hound on his sword and use it's carcass to protect both himself and the unconcious Tetherys, who embraced Tahlia as soon as she regained consciousness. Silence filled the room, even though it was clear that Quellen was smugly expecting praise. After the rest of the party exchanged content smiles, Grisom finally spoke up. "It all went down according to how I have seen it before. 'tis obvious Merick used the flames to escape. He will no doubt find a way to raise Alric again. But Tamaril is safe. For now."