"Enjoy what little time you have left, fool..." Bane adds, turning to leave...and finding himself beset upon by unseen forces. Though a seemingly self-propelled stalagmite just misses him, he screams in pain as a dagger is thrust into his face, barely missing his eye but slashing his cheek wickedly.
"What is the meaning of this?!" he bellows, swinging his sword at the air around him.
"More of your pathetic worms?"
"Hah!" Cyric exclaims. "You see how my power here is so much greater than yours?"
"Faerun will bow to my will, sooner or later, and you'd best accept that quick, Lord Bane. Nobody can deny their ultimate destiny, and yours is to wither away to dust at my feet, your blood watering the fields of my new kingdom!"
"Speak all you want, Betrayer," Bane replies, "You are only deluding yourself into false hope. It's almost beautiful..."
"But no more! I will not dally around this place longer than is necessary - unlike you, I actually have business to attend to."
"I'll see you soon, dear Cyric," he finishes, and in a puff of black smoke, he's gone.
"Real soon..." Cyric adds, disappearing similarly into a hazy purple mist.