[IC] 5E: The Final Quest. Part One

[truemane]

The Final Quest
Part 1: The End

"I do so have a girlfriend! She's from overseas.
She doesn't live on this Continent. You don't know her."

The Great Continent of the Speaking People is vast beyond reckoning. No living being has ever seen its entirety. No credible story has ever emerged of its ending. Despite the infinite variety of Speaking Peoples, almost all of them tell legends about a Complete Map of the Continent and about Strangers who Came from Across the Sea. It is said that, at the Shores of the Continent, there is an endless, depthless sea. It is said that the Continent ends in a cliff so high that to look down is madness. It is said that the Continent ends in a wall of infinite height with a single door that opens to the realms of the gods. It is said the Content is rounded by an eternal storm, a wall of night, a magical barrier, an opaque mist that transports travelers to other worlds.

Most of all, it is said the Continent has no ending.

If you travel west out of the Elder Realms (called the Central Marches, called the Plains of Passage, called the Land of Eternal War), through the Donshen Empire, through the kingdom of Ancient Sumarria, past the petty realms and minor duchies, the freeholds, and then into and through the Bordlerands, one comes to the shores of the Sea of Godfall (said to be have been formed by a god that fell to earth in the days before time).

The Sea of Godfall is both wide and deep. Standing on its shores, it would be easy to think that you had finally reached the fabled Shores of the Continent. The people of the Dreadwind Wastes to the south and the people of the lands of Frosthold to north both call the Sea the same.

The call it World's End.

World's End is home to the Golden Nation. For a thousand days' walk in every direction, the influence of The Nation can be seen. Temples to the Lord of Shining Light feeding the poor, their clerics healing the sick. Monks of the Order of the Sun Titan advising nobles and queens. Fighters, paladins, rangers, warriors all kinds, graduates of the School of the Shining Scale, toiling in armies and militias and rebel groups, helping to prop up lawful realms and destabilize chaotic ones.

Deep in the Godfall Sea is an island, surrounded by the high cliffs of an impassible caldera. The water within the caldera is infested with dragon turtles and aboleths and other great aquatic beasts. The skies above are clouded so thick and so dark that the sun is swallowed. The air is filled with a mist so thick it obscures all vision, and the air is filled with the roar of wind and split by lightning called down by the storms that rage across the waters without end.

The island is the centre of the Golden Nation. The island is the home of the dragon. Jorgun the Great, the Golden, the Pure, the Trueheart, the Eternal, the Shining, Lord of Sun and Storm, Commander of the Elements, grand titan of the elder days. For three thousand years the Jorgun has ruled the Golden Nation from his mountain fortress lair. His word is law. His will is iron. His dedication to the cause of law tireless and eternal. From a thousand thousand realms he draws lawful tribute. Gold to to fund the Nation, and gathering to himself such things as he desires: pearls, gems, art objects, magical items and artifacts and rarities and antiquities without price.

The tales of Jorgun's hoard are many. It is said only a handful of living beings have ever seen it. It is said that it fills a mountain, two mountains, that it could fill the entire Sea of Godfall. It is said that it guarded by the gods themselves. It is said any mortal being who sees can do nothing but gaze upon it until they died of hunger and thirst and exhaustion. It is said the endless vaults are littered with the corpses of those who have done so.

On the southern shore of Godfall Sea, in an isolated harbour near the tip of the spear of rock that extends into the sea before splitting into three strings of smaller islands, there is a small fishing village. It does not have a name. It is just the Village. With the exception of the occasional merchant, visitors here are few. It is little more than several dozen houses clustered around the narrow strip of arable land between the steppes and the sea. There is a single public house where one can acquire drink, food, and what news there is to be had. On the second floor there are two rooms to let (one of which has been used for storage since the last time it was required over six months ago). It also has no name. It is just the House.

The affairs of the wide world are all but unknown here. The year that the archwizard Narchallon raised an undead army to assail the Golden Nation and threw Frosthome into chaos and war, the Village spend talking about Old Man Grenthern's son cutting down the three blosswood trees that had been on Grenthern Farm for as long as anyone could remember. When a plague decimated the many nomadic peoples of Dreadwind, and the Golden Nation's efforts to contain it were so resource-intense that a dozen small nations on the edges of the Borderlands collapsed and the entre region fell ino into anarchy, the Village was consumed with the veracity of younger Yarlenda's story of seeing a mermaid. The Village has no claims of greatness. No connection to fame. No place in any story or legend.

On the night of the first full moon after the winter Solstice, with the waters of the Harbour icy-black, rhime crusted all around the shores and docks, fishing boats up on blocks, farms barren and empty, people hiding in their houses from the cold and snow, a ship makes landfall. It is not a large ship by any measure, barely more than a rowboat. But compared to the tiny two-person boats of the Village, it seems enormous. And it is clearly a war ship, the like of which has not been seen here for generations.

From the boat come four armoured warriors, each clad in plate and each carrying a spear and a sword. Their armour is battered and dented and thrown over with dark tabards to prevent glare from giving them away in the sharp moonlight. The four warriors trudge wordlessly up the road from the shore toward the House. Two take up post at the front door and two walk around back to the kitchen entrance.

The House is open, technically, but only because the owner (Arry Nunfeld) lives there. She certainly doesn't expect any customers. And she certainly has no idea that four seasoned, experienced, skilled warriors have taken post at her doors. And not even in her wildest dreams could she imagine that six of the world's most famous, most powerful, most legendary adventurers would soon arrive.

All six had gotten a message. The message in each case was short and simple. It named this village, this place, this public house, this night. And it named the reason for such a call, such a meeting: that the writer knew the location of one of the greatest possible treasures the Great Continent contains: one of the three remaining Tears of Dao. A true Wishing Orb. The key to re-write reality and have whatever one might desire.

And it was signed Alder Scalescar, a semi-mythical figure tied to a number of rebel and resistance movements responsible for several dozen insurrections and rebellions, and twice as many skirmishes and wars. He is also linked to the slaying of at least three ancient dragons (and possibly as many as five).

He called. These six will answer.

There will be a meeting here tonight that, whatever the outcome, will shake the pillars of the world.

Spoiler

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Welcome to the Final Quest! Here you are, 20th level, and still meeting in a tavern! In your opening post, let us know how you got here and any precautions you took to stay under the radar (if any). Preferred but optional: let us know know what the message looked like when you got it, and also how you knew it wasn't a scam or a trap. You can assume the sender has access to wide variety of resources, so he would be able to bring considerable power to bear on making sure that you got it and that you believed it. Let me know if you have any questions!