Here's something I wrote years ago:
The players, at any point, appeal for Divine Intervention. On a successful roll, rather than your god whisking you away or so on, the following happens.
A huge, irregular slab of earth erupts out of the ground, opening a portal into the darkness at its base. If the players flee into the hole they see a dream world of darkness lit by a soft purple and green glow. Huge, softly swaying mushrooms tower over each side of them and small mushrooms, glowing with a soft luminescence, line a twisting path beneath the trunks. Tiny glowing lights meander around about a foot off the ground, creating little auras of soft radiance in the swirling, warm mist that blankets the ground. Hinting rather than obscuring the area.
Following the path reveals that the players develop a sense of warm security, as if the very gloom wraps and protects the. However, off to one side they hear an almost subliminal throbbing, like a heartbeat. If they follow the trail they come to another opening are delivered from the underworld to continue their adventures. However, if they go off to the sound;
A deep, body throb of sound comes off among the trunks. Players walking this way lose the path and cannot refind it. The sound comes from a clearing among the huge mushrooms, and there they see a unique sight. Misshapen trollkin caper in a circle, dancing frenziedly in a widdershins pattern. Inside this, huge dark trolls, clad in lead armour and holding maces and mauls that hum with power, dance slowly in a clockwise circle around an altar-shaped slab. On either end of this altar is seated a great troll beating on a section of hollow log carved with truly terrifying runes of power from the beginning of time. Around the altar are three female trolls, clad in bizarre ceremonial robes with towering headdresses and masks. On the altar is a terrifying sight; a Mistress Race Troll groaning in time with the slow thunder of the drumbeat as she labours in childbirth.
The trollkin part as they caper in the knee high mist, and the trolls open their ranks as the players find themselves joining in the slow, heavy dance. Deep, primal feelings wash over them; anger, regret, vigilance, fury.
The Mistress Race Troll lets out a hoarse, deep yell as horrible figures loom out of the mushrooms. Horrid Elf-Broo, sparkling with stinging, searing light, slither from among the Mushrooms and slice into the trollkin. The dark trolls give out deep, grunting war-cries and lumber into battle. The chaos monsters fight with claws so bright they burn the imagination, and the resolute trolls respond with body-crunching strikes that fling bodies high in the air. There are too many though, and a group bursts through their lines and streak towards the altar. Their claws become so bright that it's a throbbing, blinding pain that summons up an anger the players have never experience before.
The players are at full health, magical power and fatigue, the dance has made them whole. The fight goes on until all the monsters or all the players fall. If the players slaughter one each of these monsters the others fall back screaming in fear and stagger backwards into the brawl. The dark trolls grab them, snapping spines and tearing off heads. If the players fall in battle a torrent of these creatures wash over the altar, slicing and rending.
If the players die, they die. In fact, as they're in the underworld. They really die. There's no coming back. If they succeed there is a triumphant roar. The cloaked priestesses hold up a healthy mistress race troll baby, a girl. The mother rises up onto her knees, takes the child in her arms and roars out a hoarse battle cry that literally blows the remaining chaos monsters to fragments. A comforting darkness settles over the seen. The gloom deepens and the players sleep.
They waken in a shattered temple, lying around a statue of a female troll. The location is up to the GM. The players blink and rise, looking at each other. In the pitch dark. They now have troll sonar-vision. Scan and Spot skills are at base etc.