[IC] D&D5E - The Ultimate Quest Part 1

[truemane]

THE ULTIMATE QUEST
Part One: The End

"This is the end, beautiful friend
.This is the end, my only friend
.The end."
-The Doors, The End

On the eastern shore of the Great Continent lies the region of World's End, surrounding the vast Stormbound Sea. To the south are the Deadwind Wastes, a vast land of sand and stone, ruled by a confederacy of nomadic people for thousands of years. To the west, the Seastone Islands, a naval and trading power ruled by the merchant class. To the west, the Petty Realms, dozens and dozens of city states forever at war. And to the north is the Golden Nation, ruled from Titan's Isle by the golden greatwyrm Jurgundmir the Eternal, extending its tendrils of power in all directions.

Great and powerful nations, all. Home of legends and heroes and myths and great adventures of all kinds.

But instead, look now at the small fishing village called Potter's Cove on the northern tip of a small island near the middle of the Stormbound Sea, where life has been much the same for centuries. In the spring, summer, and fall they fish. And in the winter they rest. Their days are filled with talk of the sea, and the weather, and births and deaths, with little concern for the affairs of the great and powerful all around them.

This night, just after the winter solstice, with the full moon shining in the clear night sky, the village lay sleeping. The only light still burning is in the windows of the large wooden building near the waterfront. This is Maise's Rest, the local public house. Their night is done and the staff is just cleaning up and preparing to close.

Nearby, at docks, a single large boat, armoured and painted black, slides silently through the icy waters of the cove. A tiny splash indicates anchor is dropped. And several more splashes as a dozen people drop into the water and make their way to shore. They move in disciplined units like soldiers, but they are no thugs. They are lithe and quick and nearly invisible in the shadows. Several fan out into the village. Three lurk by the entrance to the Rest.

At which point a black circle appears in the air near the Rest and three people step out: a human man, late middle age, wisdom and fatigue in his face, moving with the unconscious air of command. A human woman, tall and broad shouldered, unarmoured, unarmed, with keen eyes and a grim determined face. And an elven woman, tall and painfully thin, her neck and face a messy tangle of poorly healed scars and small runic tattoos on her face and hands.

The elf stays by the portal. The other two enter the Rest.

The residents don't know it, but Potter's Cove will soon be the origin of a legend that will resound across the Great Continent until the end of time.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Welcome to the ULTIMATE QUEST. Here you are, 20th level unstoppable powerhouses and you're still meeting in a tavern!

In your opening post, if you feel like it, let us know how the letter came to you, how you knew it was real, how you traveled from wherever you were to here, and how you enter the inn.

One request: no lurking. If everyone says I hang back and watch then the game stalls. Always try to be moving forward. That's the bit.

Other than that, feel free to ask if you have any questions, and let's have some fun!

[JNAProductions]

Jhoira has purchased the services of a carriage. It's a simple affair-wooden sides, two horses, and a goliath at the helm. Inside, she is perched a touch awkwardly on the goliath-sized seats, but this was the best option for coming to Potter's Cove.

When the carriage stops, she flits out past the driver. "Thank you," she tells the man. She hands him a small pouch, with a gentle "Keep the excess-I'll be fine without it."

The goliath shrugs, having already received payment up front, and tosses the coinpurse into the back, to be checked later. Jhoira has not made who she is known to the man-he doesn't know that the coins inside are pure platinum, worth a thousand times what the trip would normally pay. He won't find out till later.

Alighting on the ground, Jhoira walks to the Rest, and enters through the doors. She waves to the barkeep, and hops onto a stool at the bar. "Something... Fruity, please. And non-alcoholic. Juice, I suppose, if you have it," she asks. When the barkeep fetches her drink, she takes a long draught. "Thank you," she replies, and slides a platinum piece over. "I'll be wanting more in a bit, so just keep the change." The barkeep's eyes go a little wide at the coin, but they take it without a word.

As she looks about for Alder Scalescar, she thinks to when she received the letter. Her informants had brought word that the ritual was beginning-the Tyrant of Hellkite Peaks was returning, should it not be stopped. The letter, impossible to believe, but impossible to refute. Her eyes light upon the middle-aged man and the broad-shouldered woman, clear outsiders. She drops off the stool and walks over, her juice in hand. "Alder Scalescar?" she asks. "Or related to, at least?"

[Bobthewizard]

Khog Orc Barbarian 20/ Paladin 20 AC: 17 HP: 340/340 PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 13 HD: 20/20d12, Conditions: none Khog is starting to wonder if he misread the invitation. This doesn't seem like the kind of place to find a once in 10 generations relic. He sits in the darkest corner of Maise's Rest, gnawing on the remnants of the hog's head that was going to be thrown out from the pig roast for dinner. He had finished his 3 servings and was still hungry. The tavern had run out of pork but offered him the head. He was shocked they were going to throw it out. It's delicious. He's washing it down with a dark dwarven ale. He finds that it's a little light for his tastes, preferring a thicker ale with chunks of grain still floating in it. He hears his back pegasus neigh outside to indicate that something strange has arrived. He knows his mount wouldn't alert him unless there was something out of the ordinary. He knew not to fuss for soldiers or thieves. Then he sees the fairy walk in. Yes, that is something different. He stands up, walks to the door and glances outside, seeing the new arrivals and the black void. He stands back as the two humans walk into the Rest, and watches as the fairy greets them. Knowing this must be important, he approaches, and waits for an appropriate time. "I am Khog, leader of the free orcs." Spoiler: OOC Show Move: Action: BA: Reaction: Object: Spoiler: Tracking Show Spell Slots, 1st: 4/4, 2nd: 3/3, 3rd: 3/3, 4th 3/3, 5th: 2/2 Relentless 1/1 LR Relentless Rage DC10,+5 Divine Sense 6/6 LR Lay on Hands 100/100 LR Channel Divinity 1/1 SR Cleansing Touch 5/5 LR Avenging Angel 1/1 LR Fanatical Focus 1/1 Rage Zealous Presence: 1/1 LR Force cone: 1/1 LR Inspiring Leader: 1/1 SR Spoiler: notes Show

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Well, what have we here? It's not every day we see another pegasus! Why don't you two get to know each other while I go inside?"

Sirocco leaves her cloud-white steed with the winged nightmare outside and comes in through the door. She's a lofty haze of blues and grays and indigoes, from her hair to her skin to the big downy scarf she brought for the wintry weather. She leans onto the bar with her chin on the back of her hand and looks up at the bartender with a sleepy smile.

This island doesn't have any of her Blue Bridges on it. It's practically a historical village. Flyover territory. Two days ago, she wished to know who she would be meeting if she came here. The extraordinary answer demanded an extraordinary response, and after a day of emotionally draining preparation, she summoned Rex and began the arduous ride from her trading company's nearest branch. She made it only in the nick of time, as is tradition one supposes.

"What do you have? Is that berry cider? I'll have that. ...hm? Payment? Of course! What would you like? Anything, you name it. ...'another platinum piece?'" She could tell that he was only half-joking, his mind probably still on what Jhoira just did. Sirocco sighs. "Boring. Silph, pay the man."

A blue-clad sylph, smaller even than the fairy already in the Rest, drops her invisibility and works out the coinage details while her master approaches the adventurers' table, drink in hand.

"Good evening, everyone. It is I, Sirocco Squall. I appreciate the invitation, Sir Scalescar. I look forward to working with all of you."

[miinstrel]

Osmanthus DV 60' | P 30 / PIns 19 / PInv 19 AC 21 | HP 200/200 Resist: none Immune: Disease, Poison, Surprised, Sleep Effects: Adv. vs. Charm Conditions: none If wind could smirk, his swirling form would have remembering the terrified look of the messenger sent into his demesne to deliver the letter. An actual letter. He was accustomed to being intrusively contacted through the Weave, so this quaint and classy gesture stood out in the best way. The less inhabited isles that made up this chain near Potter's Cove were relatively unspoiled - plenty of ancient trees, and a nice central mangrove he'd used before. On the day he stepped through his favorite oak, patting it lovingly as he watched smoke drifting up on the horizon even now. What might he return to when this is over? Or rather, what might he not return to? From the mangrove it was a longer day's flight to Potter's Cove than he remembered. Landing just after sundown he observed the unusual nighttime activity for a tiny village of this size. His swirling mass knocks the doors open ahead of him as his lean and muscular yet sagging frame steps inside. "An orc, a fairy, a genasi, and an elf walk into a bar..." he opens after quickly scanning the room. "... I just hope we're not the punchline. Osmanthus, Ozzy if you've a tired tongue." He reaches into a small satchel at his waist, pulls out a berry and pops it into his mouth, sucking it dry with the overly-expressive cheeks of a gaunt face as he eyes up the regal human before them. Is this real?" He waves the letter about with hopeful skepticism.

[AvatarVecna]

Many might have found the sway of the ship nauseating, but for Simon there was a comfort in the rhythm. It was the interruptions, when the water become haphazard and unpredictable, that things went wrong. Perhaps it would bother him more if he'd not spent a great deal of time on ships; perhaps it would bother him if he had to work while constantly shifting his balance. But he was an old hand at sea voyages, and was only here as a passenger. He leaned over the railing, one hand lazily gripping the rigging, as he gazed out towards the growing speck in the distance that was Potter's Cove. Men and women of all shapes and sizes bustled busily around the deck, but he barely noticed them. He'd gotten most of their names and backgrounds of course - the southeastward journey had been too long to keep to his lonesome the whole time, a man would go mad if he tried - but it wasn't a priority for him. In all the crew, there was but three people he could tell truly mattered. That's not to say the rest were unimportant, for everyone is important in their own way. But theirs were small, personal stories that would never shape so much as a village let alone a nation.

The captain was just there - a man set in his ways, comfortable with his life the way it was. The first mate, however, had greater ambitions, and a heart black enough to see them through come hell or high water. There was a mutiny coming - it wasn't here yet, he didn't have enough of the crew turned yet - but it was less than a year away. The cook was interesting: an ex-pirate, with a foul curse placed on him by a sea witch forbidding him from ever returning to land. Supposedly his only hope lay in proper redemption...or so his desperation told him, for no magic yet had managed to undo her fell omen. Simon suspected he was the worst kind of right, and would find redemption and freedom in death, in dying for another's cause. The last was a rigging-rat picked up just before they left port. The boy was in decent shape and had a sharp wit, but wore his heart on his sleeve too much for this line of work. His parents were sick, and while he sought treasure same as everyone, his motives were more noble than most. Hidden near his bunk was a treasure map he kept secret from everyone...well, everyone but Simon.

Simon hadn't been told any of these things, of course, they weren't the kind of thing you share with a stranger. But he'd spent his whole life reading in between the line to find the kernel of truth that showed him a person's heart. The boy, bless his heart, was a fan of his work, and hoped Simon's presence would be a boon on his quest. But the bard was just passing through this story towards the next one. He'd given the lad some general advice, hinted at how the cook was both experienced and a potential ally, but otherwise tried to keep his distance. No need to get the lad's hopes up.

---

As they got closer, Simon bid his shipmates a mostly fond farewell and kicked off from the deck, soaring away on his broom. He was the only one stopping in Potter's Cove, so no need to head ashore when supplies were still plentiful. He strode towards the tavern purposefully. While the letter itself wasn't magic in that manner, it almost seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket. Simon was rather excited - he could practically feel the weight of the narrative wrapping around him like a protective cloak the closer he got. This would be a story for the ages. And if they were lucky, he might even get a chance to tell it later. If they were unlucky...well, here's hoping he could nudge things in the right direction. Without breaking stride, a quick twist of magic banishes the mud from his boots a few steps before he enters.

He cast his gaze around the room, and he saw them, one after another. Most everyone in this village was just there, their lives ambient sparks floating up from the fire. In here, their presence was swallowed up by the bonfires of potential that were brooding in every corner. Simon licked his lips in anticipation of learning the contours of their lives. He'd have to be more careful with his investigations than he'd been on the ship, for men and women of this caliber were far more liable to notice the danger to their missions that lurked behind every innocent question he asked.

He orders while still approaching the bar. "Some water, please. Nothing but rum for a month now, need a change of pace," he chuckles.

[truemane]

The proprietor of Maise's Rest (Maise) didn't know she was hosting a roomful of legends and heroes and myths. But she did know she was hosting a roomful of very strange people in a place where strange people of any kind was a very strange business indeed.

She hustled and bustled, eyes wide and mouth mostly agape. Her two staff members (one cook and one man-of-all-work) were kept busy as well.

Alder Scalescar (and companion) enters the Rest and looks over the assembly, almost as though counting them.

"Hello," he said, his voice was clipped and tight. There was formal military training in that voice, and a life of overcoming difficulty, and perhaps some nobility somewhere long ago, "I am sure you each have many questions. I suspect you are little used to being summoned in this way. You will be looking for assurances," he nodded to Osmanthus, "You will get them. But I assure what I said in those letters is true."

The woman nudges his arm. He looks at her and nods.

"We could speak of these matters for days, I suspect, I am afraid that time is against us. Things have been put into motion than cannot be undone. So we must come to the meat of it right away."

He pauses. Sits down.

"I know the location of the Tear of Dao. It is contained in the hoard of the gold greatwyrm Jorgundmir. I have seen it with my own eyes," a moment of pain crosses his face when he says this, "And I have information sufficient to make the attaining of it possible. Although not easy. Or even probable. I do not expect you all to survive. But any that do will share a mighty prize."

He looks around to make sure he's understood. "Time is short, but I suspect you have questions that need answering."

Spoiler: THE GOLDEN NATION

Show

The history of Jorgundmir the Eternal, the Great, the Sun Titan, the Blazing Star, the Lord of Fire, Lord of Light, Lord of Virtue, Lord of All, has been at the centre of the Golden Nation for so long that the earliest records describe an already established land.

The Nation does not have very much territory. Mostly Titan's Isle, at the center of the impassible Caldera of Godfall, and some small lands along the edge. But its influence runs for hundreds of miles in every direction. The Church of the Sun Titan can be found in every town for three months' walk, offering food and aid and healing to any who ask. Units of highly training Soldiers of the Golden Scale can be found in the same range, often propping up weak or vulnerable states. Every military in the region has had at least some training by the Gold Nation's officers and tacticians.

There are a dozen countries that would not exist without the assistance of the Golden Nation and, but for them, the entire region of World's End would be engulfed in endless war.

For this largesse, the Grand Jorgun does demand tribute. But only as much as a nation can afford, plus any particularly rare or valuable gems or artifacts that are found.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"I see! So you would have us pry it from the claws of the Sun Titan himself!" says Sirocco. She poses and occasionally folds and unfolds her fan for emphasis as she speaks, the way some people talk with their hands. "A heist for the ages, and the recognition of a worthy rival to House Squall! I'm enticed already."

"I must say, though, my read on the dragon Jorgundmir would have been that he would hoard it without using it, proud and protective as he's reputed to be. So, I suppose I'll ask the obvious: on what occasion did you have the chance to see The Tear, what do you intend to do once it's secured, and what, pray tell, are these wheels in motion that you say are ticking our time away?"

[Bobthewizard]

Khog Orc Barbarian 20/ Paladin 20 AC: 17 HP: 340/340 PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 13 HD: 20/20d12, Conditions: none Khog has no specific animosity towards the gold dragon, but neither is he a friend. Khog's armies have defeated nations containing followers of the golden king, and disciples of the wyrm have frequently chased and killed even peaceful orcs who were just trying to make a living off the land. While he doesn't blame the dragon specifically and understands that a leader is not responsible for every action of those that claim to follow them, he thinks that Jorgundmir has turned a blind eye to the excesses of his followers. (Whether Khog's impression is true or not would be better decided by others.) He listens patiently to the man and agrees with Sirocco's concern. People don't give up priceless artifacts for no reason. He speaks with a deep voice and with a tone that shows that he clearly is used to being answered quickly and truthfully. "Why do you want us to find the Tear, knowing we will likely use it for ourselves? And what has been put in motion?" Spoiler: OOC Show Move: Action: BA: Reaction: Object: Spoiler: Tracking Show Spell Slots, 1st: 4/4, 2nd: 3/3, 3rd: 3/3, 4th 3/3, 5th: 2/2 Relentless 1/1 LR Relentless Rage DC10,+5 Divine Sense 6/6 LR Lay on Hands 100/100 LR Channel Divinity 1/1 SR Cleansing Touch 5/5 LR Avenging Angel 1/1 LR Fanatical Focus 1/1 Rage Zealous Presence: 1/1 LR Force cone: 1/1 LR Inspiring Leader: 1/1 SR Spoiler: notes Show Alder Scalescar Jorgundmir, gold dragon king

[truemane]

Scalescar listens carefully when the others speak. His keen, attentive gaze regarded each speaker in turn as though they were both more and less than individuals: like they were ideals of some sort, or scientific hypothesis being actively tested.

"I will explain what has been put into motion in a moment, but first, I need you to understand that you finding the Tear is not my primary purpose. And I don't care what you do with it, if and when you find it. And I don't plan to do anything once, and if, it is found and claimed. I fully expect to be dead by the time the matter is resolved one way or the other."

He pauses. And for the first time some real emotion lights up in his eyes. Something dark and molten hot.

"If you can know what a person wants, what they truly want at the bottom of their soul, then you can trace the line of their intent like a furrow in the dirt, and know their actions will flow along it as unerringly as a water fills the furrow."

"What I want is for the wyrm to die. If possible, to die alone, in pain, confused, defeated, knowing all its works have been undone. But to die, whichever or no. But how can this be achieved? No state on the Continent is willing, or capable, of assailing the Golden Nation by force of arms. No army in existence could possibly pierce the island's defenses, even if an army could be assembled that was willing to try. And any person powerful or skilled enough to have even the dimmest chance of success," he gestures to the room, "Is well above any bribe or threat that might compel them."

A pause.

"But then there is the Tear. That might carve a furrow where nothing else could."

He leaned forward, becoming more animated and engaged.

"I have scoured the known world for individuals who, first, possess even the smallest change of success, and second, who want something, anything, with such depth and fervor that the Grand Jorgun himself is not sufficient to dissuade them. That list had seven names. Five of those names are here now."

A pause.

"I know you will seek the Tear and stop at nothing until it is found, or you have died. I know the wyrm will never relinquish the Tear while it draws breath. I want the wyrm dead, and nothing more. And so I set you on this mad quest knowing you will see it through, and that it cannot be done any other way."

[JNAProductions]

Jhoira is silent for a few moments. "The wyrm is considered by most to be a benevolent sort. Tributes are needed, but they are within reason, and the seeds that they have planted have grown to wonderful places. But... Not all." She's quiet for another few, before continuing with "Jorgundmir is perhaps the single most powerful being in the entire world. I know as well as anyone that power alone is insufficient to help all who need it... But from what I can tell, Jorgundmir barely tries. They sit atop their throne and preen, content that war is not obvious."

"I am curious as to what specifically has been done to make you crave Jorgundmir's death so fiercely. But that's for you to share or not. I only hope that, when all is said and done, no one will have to seek vengeance like you are."

[Bobthewizard]

Khog Orc Barbarian 20/ Paladin 20 AC: 17 HP: 340/340 PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 13 HD: 20/20d12, Conditions: none Khog stands tall, rejecting any offers to sit. He listens as Alder Scarscale describes his motives. He looks skeptically at the man and doesn't trust this explanation. "I think you must tell us why you want the great golden worm die. You say that he will defend the Tear with his life, but it's been my experience that when creatures are defeated, and they see that they will die, they will bargain anything for their life. When we have him subdued, bloodied, overmatched, and clearly defeated, and he knows that he is about to die, he will offer us the Tear in exchange for his life. Why should we not take that offer when it is made?" He lets that question sink in and asks three more. "And tell us what has been set in motion?...why will you be dead when we are finished?... and who are the other two?" Spoiler: OOC Show Move: Action: BA: Reaction: Object: Spoiler: Tracking Show Spell Slots, 1st: 4/4, 2nd: 3/3, 3rd: 3/3, 4th 3/3, 5th: 2/2 Relentless 1/1 LR Relentless Rage DC10,+5 Divine Sense 6/6 LR Lay on Hands 100/100 LR Channel Divinity 1/1 SR Cleansing Touch 5/5 LR Avenging Angel 1/1 LR Fanatical Focus 1/1 Rage Zealous Presence: 1/1 LR Force cone: 1/1 LR Inspiring Leader: 1/1 SR Spoiler: notes Show Alder Scalescar Jorgundmir, gold dragon king

[truemane]

Scalescar nods and sighs, and for a moment his entire frame sags with the weight of an immense exhaustion. He he grits his teeth and takes a breath and sits back up, and that weight seems to vanish.

"Forty years ago, there was no Alder Scalescar. There was just an old solider in service to the Golden Nation with a wife and children he adored. One day he went to a war from which he expected not to return. But he went, secure in the knowledge that his family resided in a great fortress, away from the fighting, and would be cared for by the Nation upon his death."

A pause.

"The war was long. And hard. But he survived and returned. Only to find the fortress destroyed and all within killed. It seems that the Grand Jurgun let the fortress fall to his enemies as part of a larger gambit that served some benefit somewhere else."

His face tightens in anger.

"The soldier once believed that the wyrm defined the Good rather than followed it. If an immortal avatar of order and virtue cannot be said to be the highest moral authority, then who can? But what does virtue even mean for something so old and vast and alien? To let 1000 people die in horror and pain in order to save 1001 somewhere else seems a fine bargain to one for whom a single mortal life is as meaningless as one leaf on one tree in an infinite forest. And if so, then this must be the Good? Yes? And if the soldier disagreed, then was it not proof that he lacked faith? Lacked vision? Lacked morals?"

He slams his fist down on the table.

"The soldier said no! Surely the Good, if there is such a thing, lies in the way we act rather than the result? If we deride those for whom the ends justify the means, then surely we must exalt those for whom the means justify the ends? The soldier decided the wyrm was no avatar. No authority. Merely a bloated cancerous parasite on the skin of the world playing god with lesser beings."

He sat back. Took a breath.

"Alder Scalescar was born that day. I spent twenty years learning all there was about dragons. I concluded that I could not slay the wyrm myself, nor find any force of arms who could do so. I despaired. But then, the Tear. And I saw in an instant how it could be done."

He looks at Khog. "You cannot grasp the mind of a creature like the wyrm. It's will is iron and its dedication to its own internal oaths absolute. It will bargain. Should you cause it to fear for its life, it will offer you anything, everything. Gold. Artifacts. Lands, castles, kingdoms, immortality. It will offer everything it has.... except the Tear. It will not allow the Tear to leave its grasp while it lives. Which is why it has to be you who five who does this."

"I have spent the last twenty years bringing this plan to fruition. To this night, here, in this place, with the five of you. This thing must happen tonight. There will never be another chance. And you have only a scant few hours before the window closes forever."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Pausing for reactions (and so my post isn't a mile long). The whole "what's been put into motion" is part and parcel of the discussion about how, exactly, you're supposed to get this insane thing done. If anyone wants to queue me up, I'll go for it.

[Bobthewizard]

Khog Orc Barbarian 20/ Paladin 20 AC: 17 HP: 340/340 PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 13 HD: 20/20d12, Conditions: none Khog has already asked his questions. He is not going to ask them again. But he will give the man the benefit of the doubt that he is distracted and not ignoring Khog on purpose. When Alder stops with his defense of his position, the orc king prods him along. "Continue," is given as a command, not a friendly request. Spoiler: OOC Show Move: Action: BA: Reaction: Object: Spoiler: Tracking Show Spell Slots, 1st: 4/4, 2nd: 3/3, 3rd: 3/3, 4th 3/3, 5th: 2/2 Relentless 1/1 LR Relentless Rage DC10,+5 Divine Sense 6/6 LR Lay on Hands 100/100 LR Channel Divinity 1/1 SR Cleansing Touch 5/5 LR Avenging Angel 1/1 LR Fanatical Focus 1/1 Rage Zealous Presence: 1/1 LR Force cone: 1/1 LR Inspiring Leader: 1/1 SR Spoiler: notes Show Alder Scalescar Jorgundmir, gold dragon king

[JNAProductions]

Jhoira sips her juice, waiting for the remaining questions to be answered.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

Sirocco is silent for most of this. Assassination is such a distasteful business. Not that she's never been involved with one before - that's practically what it means to work with adventurers - but it's a degenerate form of comeuppance and not a service she'll offer on her own. Even if it is a big jerk who deserves it.

"Pahaha!" She laughs suddenly, though not so suddenly that she can't cover her mouth with her fan. "A narrow time limit, to keep us from overthinking it and backing out! You really did think this through."

[AvatarVecna]

Simon considers a number of ways to ascertain the earnestness of the man's intentions, but dismisses them all. Whatever deceptions lie buried in his words, if any, can't be discovered until later. He knows that regicide is a bloody business at the best of times - that Alder is deliberately placing at risk the lives of every man, woman, and child that lives under the dragon's protection for the sake of getting his revenge for two lots souls. He almost asks several variations of a rather antagonistic question cutting through the righteousness the man cloaked his rage in. But it was no use. A quest twenty years in the making would not be waylaid by some pithy remarks. And Alder was right about one thing, even if nothing else: having gathered several people and informed them a dragon was between them and their hearts desires, the man could be struck dead on this very spot and his vengeance would likely be completed. A group like this was like a boulder precariously perched upon a steep hill: all it takes is the slightest push, and then there's no force on earth that can stop it. And the push was now at least two minutes behind them, potentially two months depending on how you counted it. One question definitely came to mind, however.

"The wyrm stands between us and happiness, it's true. And he will not relinquish the Tear so long as he draws breath. On this I believe you, and agree. But it makes me curious if what you've sacrificed to get here is worth a temporary inconvenience, a brief reminder for a nigh-immortal that they aren't as untouchable as they would like. Because...well, frankly, I'd be surprised if nobody sitting here didn't already have a tombstone with their name on it out somewhere in the world...and we don't have the resources of The Golden Nation behind us. Perhaps the group you've assembled has both means and motive to kill the wyrm - I'll grant that it's possible - but we just need him out of the way long enough to use the Tear ourselves. Once that's behind us, what need do we have to ensure he remains dead?"

Simon knows there must be something, for it would be hollow an unsatisfying if there wasn't. He has no reason to doubt the man's forward thinking in this matter; you don't plan out a revenge for twenty years involving the most powerful beings in the world, and forget that resurrection is on the table. But Simon suspects that the others may balk if they think all killing the wyrm would do is paint a target on their back. Perhaps some of their wishes would not be bothered by the lack of such a contingency, but it's entirely possible they would be, and it's easier to assuage them now than later.

[truemane]

Alder looks at Simon, almost curiously, almost a little surprised.

"True dragons don't have souls. They have no afterlife. They were among the first things formed by Dao the Shaper and are inextricably bound up in this world. They cannot be raised, resurrected, or in any way reformed. When a dragon dies, it is completely and utterly undone."

He looks over at Khog when be barks his command. And for the first time a tinge of fear touches his eyes. Not of death, perhaps, but that he might be killed before his mission here is done.

He nods. The woman (standing beside him, still and silent all this time) hands him a parchment. Scalescar thanks her and rolls it out on the table in front of him. It is a large-scale map of World's End.

"This is the Golden Nation," he says, indicating the norther part. "And the Grand Jorgun rules from here," he points, "Titan's Isle, in the middle of the Caldera of Godfall."

He looks up at them. This is all relatively common information, but he's a pretty careful and deliverate guy.

"The caldera itself is said to be impassable unless you've been invited. Endless storms fill the air. Monsters of unspeakable power prowl the waters. The entire caldera is warded against magical travel, so it cannot be bypassed by any means I know."

He looks up.

"But I believe a group such as yourself is capable of doing so. The real problem hits once you reach the isle."

"The Grand Jorgun has fortified his lair with two primary defenses. Either one makes his position almost completely secure. With both in place, he is utterly unassailable."

He looks up again. This is not so common knowledge.

"The first is the Planar Spire. The island contains a naturally occurring rift in the fabric between the planes, that pierces all of the elemental planes simultaneously, and allow, or causes, a stream of elemental creatures to issue from the rift. This rift made the isle uninhabitable for thousands and thousands of years."

"The Jorgun constructed the Planar Spire, which somehow harnesses the power of the rift, allowing him not only control when it opens, and where, but provides him absolute control over every being that emerges. This means the wymr has, at its disposal, an infinite army of elementals at its beck and call at all times."

A pause.

"Second. A thousand years ago, the wyrm abducted the last known True Prophet of Dao, and built its church around them. To this day, the High Pontifex of the Church of the Sun Titan has the power of True Prophecy and can warn the wyrm of any salient threat to its person or its works."

He looks up again.

"You can see the problem. If the Grand Jorgun has foreknowledge of any threat, and an infinite army of elementals with which to answer, then there is no way forward. Both defenses must be neutralized for there to be any chance of success."

He looks at Khog. And the rest.

"So we come to what has been set in motion. I have spent twenty years carefully, painstakingly, seeding tiny pockets of resistance along the villages on the shores of Titan's Isle. No one of them, in isolation, a threat. But if it were to happen that all of then were activated simultaneously, in concert, and as one they rose up and began fighting and slaying their way across the isle, they suddenly become such a myriad of threats that the High Pontifex's prophecy will be confounded with noise. And under the cover of such noise, it is possible for a small ground of swift, sure, capable individuals, to make their way onto the island, and give them a window, however meagre, with which to neutralize both defenses, and thereby make the wyrm vulnerable for the first time in thousands of years."

He rolls the parchment back up and hands it to the woman.

"That is what has been set in motion. Within an hour, the pre-arranged signal will sound, and twenty years worth of pebbles will roll into a landslide. The signal cannot be stopped. And I will never be able to arrange such a thing again. Every one of those people will die. They have no chance of success. And once they are gone, their many threats are gone and the High Pontifex's eye will once more be clear and the wyrm secure. But their sacrifice will give you the only chance you will ever have to seek the Tear."

He looks up at the woman again. She makes a maybe-yes-maybe-no face. He looks back.

"I'm sure you have many, many more questions, but every moment spent here is one less moment you have on the isle. I highly recommend you go now. Just outside this building is Ljiljiana, a Mage in my service. She can teleport you to a circle on the very shores of Godfall. From there you will have to make your own way."

Spoiler

Show

Everyone can make a History roll, DC 22. Anyone with Monk levels, or experience with the people of the Deadwind Wastes, or experience with unarmed fighting styles (you can decide for yourself and tell me about it), can roll with Advantage.

Osmanthus doesn't have to roll.

Spoiler: History DC22

Show

The woman has tattoos on her cheeks that mark her as a member of a very obscure sect of Monks, who teach a meditative technique that allows them to divide and partition their minds into multiple bits, each of which may act independently, sort of like the 3.5 Psionic Power Schism.

[Bobthewizard]

Khog Orc Barbarian 20/ Paladin 20 AC: 17 HP: 340/340 PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 13 HD: 20/20d12, Conditions: none Khog nods at the man, content in his responses. Having lost his own wife and child, with that being the reason he is here, he feels a kinship with Alder Scalescar. He would do the same thing, even if it took a lifetime. Khog is concerned that Alder is definitely more evil than the dragon. Alder is going to let innocent people die for his own revenge, while Jorgundmir merely let some people die for a tactical advantage and to save many others. But Khog isn't going to let that moral dilemma stop him. He just wants to find his wife and child. "I understand the pain of losing your love and child. I will kill this salamander for you." He looks to the others to see if they will join him or if he'll be doing this alone, but turns back to Alder one more time. "But why are you so certain that you will be dead? Perhaps we will meet again." Spoiler: OOC Show He has no chance of making that history roll. Move: Action: BA: Reaction: Object: Spoiler: Tracking Show Spell Slots, 1st: 4/4, 2nd: 3/3, 3rd: 3/3, 4th 3/3, 5th: 2/2 Relentless 1/1 LR Relentless Rage DC10,+5 Divine Sense 6/6 LR Lay on Hands 100/100 LR Channel Divinity 1/1 SR Cleansing Touch 5/5 LR Avenging Angel 1/1 LR Fanatical Focus 1/1 Rage Zealous Presence: 1/1 LR Force cone: 1/1 LR Inspiring Leader: 1/1 SR Spoiler: notes Show Alder Scalescar Jorgundmir, gold dragon king Ljiljiana, a Mage works for Alder

[miinstrel]

Osmanthus DV 60' | PP 30 / PIns 19 / PInv 19 AC 21 | HP 200/200 Resist: none Immune: Disease, Poison, Surprised, Sleep Effects: Adv. vs. Charm Conditions: none Osmanthus listened quietly as Alder told his tale, seeing in him the grief and rage that uncountable men had already known. His lust for revenge was trite. He would be forgotten... but for this gambit. And perhaps through it the names of his wife and child would live on for a time. The aged druid held no love for dragons. They were more of the natural order than humans and nearly as destructive. But while hundreds may die to make possible the great beast's demise, thousands would fill its belly were it to yet live after Osmanthus claimed the tear. "You're a fool for what you've done Alder, though a clever one, to entice the likes of us with such an opportunity. If this wyrm cherishes the Tear as much as you say, leaving it alive will consume every soul for a thousand miles in its own quest for vengeance should we succeed in stealing his treasure." "When any creature, even were it one of us," he gestures to the seven of them, "grows to such power as Jorgundmir, it is impossible for the world to find balance. His will distorts the natural order far beyond the Caldera. I've watched his ascent and known this day would eventually come... I'm only glad it happened in my lifetime," he lets loose a wry chuckle at the joke. Osmanthus steps forward beside Khog, his form stuttering between flame, water, air, and earth for a moment before coming to rest again in his natural form. "I accept your fight as my own. The world will be a better place when this is all over." His eyes narrow with curiosity at Khog's final question, though his attention seems more focused on the woman, as if she were holding something back.

[AvatarVecna]

Alder looks at Simon, almost curiously, almost a little surprised.

"True dragons don't have souls. They have no afterlife. They were among the first things formed by Dao the Shaper and are inextricably bound up in this world. They cannot be raised, resurrected, or in any way reformed. When a dragon dies, it is completely and utterly undone."

Simon nods slightly. This isn't new information to him, and it's more or less the answer he expected. That's not to say he believes it's 100% true, but it's probably correct - he's heard more tales of dragons dying of old age than returning from beyond. Of course, that might be because dragons tend to be solitary creatures and wouldn't really have anybody around who wanted to bring them back afterwards, which wouldn't apply to The Sun Titan. Regardless, the purpose of his question was fulfilled: if any of the others weren't so well-versed in dragon lore to 'know' their nigh-immortality was limited to a single lifetime, now they did, and any lingering concerns would be assuaged.

Simon rises from his seat, more or less ready to get underway, but pauses a moment to hear the answer to Khog's question.

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"May I guess?" Sirocco joins in, seeing how everyone is staring at their host expectantly. "As the key instigator of the impending rebellion, the Prophet's sight will quickly identify you as public enemy number 1, noise or no noise. Thus, you can't join us, lest you negate the chief benefit of the chaos. You also can't lay low. If you were to do that, your rebellion would realize you'd abandoned them, and the will to fight that you had spent years stoking would burn out all too quickly."

She takes a drink of her cider. It's just okay. What interesting notes the berries would have added were lost in the way they were all crushed together.

"Thus, your role is to go and fight at their side, that you may maintain a dark cloud of threat as their martyr. Am I close?"

[truemane]

Alder looked from Khog to Sirocco. Another spasm of pain crossed his face. The woman beside him looked concerned and put a hand on his shoulder. He shook her off.

"Yes," he said to Sirocco, "That is largely the case. I must return to the Golden Nation. And I must join the conflict and spurn it on as best I can. And before it's done, I fully expect to die for my cause. But I do not believe that I will be called a martyr."

Just then the darkness outside is marred by the warm flickering of fire. And the scent of smoke drifts into the room.

He looks at his guardian and nods. And then at the five people assembled, "It is time. By the time you cross the Caldera, if you survive the crossing, it will be in full swing and your movements will be obscured."

He frowns. "Such a strange parting. I cannot say thank you. Nor you're welcome. Nor good luck nor fare thee well. Ljiljiana awaits you. Pay mind to nothing else as you exit."

[JNAProductions]

"You are a strong man," Jhoira tells him, entirely unsure of anything else to say.

She stands to leave, though lets someone else take point.

[truemane]

Alder winces at Jhoira's comment. "No. Were I strong I would not have let them die in the first place. This is all merely the mad scrabble of the failure for amends."

Outside the tavern the air is sharp and dry with winter cold. The frozen ground crunches underfoot. In the middle of the clearing outside the door, flanked by two vicious and competent-looking soldiers, stands the painfully thin elf woman. Her neck is a tangled snarl of unhealed scars from beneath her jaw to the top of her chest.

As they approach, she casts a spell (oddly, her mouth moves, and emits harsh little sibilant syllables, but she does not speak). A circle of black appears in the air before her. It shimmers and then resolves into what seems to be a lightly forested clearing with an ancient, vine-covered, crumbled temple in the background. A strong, coldly-humid wind blows through the aperture.

Behind her, in the darkness of the village beyond, Half-a-dozen homes are burning. Quick, lithe, soldiers dart about, holding torches, lighting more fires. Additional soldiers lurk about in the shadows and, as the sleeping villagers become aware of what is happening and run from their houses, silent arrows fly and strike them down, one by one.

Ljiljiana, her face stern and urgent, motions toward the portal.

*********

BEYOND THE PORTAL

The other side of the portal is a wide, flat space, lightly treed. A few feet away, covered in creeper vines, stands a ancient stone structure, long abandoned and fallen to ruin. To the north the land rises sharply to rocky, thick forest with mountains beyond. To the south, the land falls to a narrow sandy beach with angry, agitated waves constantly crashing against the shore.

And beyond spans the Caldera of Godfall. The skies above the Caldera are black with thick roiling storm clouds. Powerful winds howl in the night. Torrential rain batters the inland sea from horizon to horizon. Far, far to the southeast a cyclone stretches from the clouds and touches down, creating a massive waterspout. The air is constantly split by lightning.

Somewhere in the middle of all that lies Titan's Isle.

[Bobthewizard]

Khog Orc Barbarian 20/ Paladin 20 AC: 17 HP: 340/340 PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 13 HD: 20/20d12, Conditions: none Khog speaks, simply, "It will be done." He walks out and is joined by his black Pegasus. He leads her to the portal, nodding at Ljiljiana as he passes her. He sees the suffering of the village, and normally would help, but today he has a more important task. He must find his wife and child, and if this destruction of thousands of villagers is how it must happen, so be it. He and his pegasus both step through the portal. He adjusts to the new surroundings and slowly walks towards the sea, waiting for the others, ready to mount his pegasus and fly over the stormy seas. Spoiler: OOC Show He is just planning to fly over the sea, through the rain and storms. It might not work, but he is direct. Move: Action: BA: Reaction: Object: Spoiler: Tracking Show Spell Slots, 1st: 4/4, 2nd: 3/3, 3rd: 3/3, 4th 3/3, 5th: 2/2 Relentless 1/1 LR Relentless Rage DC10,+5 Divine Sense 6/6 LR Lay on Hands 100/100 LR Channel Divinity 1/1 SR Cleansing Touch 5/5 LR Avenging Angel 1/1 LR Fanatical Focus 1/1 Rage Zealous Presence: 1/1 LR Force cone: 1/1 LR Inspiring Leader: 1/1 SR Spoiler: notes Show Alder Scalescar Jorgundmir, gold dragon king Ljiljiana, a Mage works for Alder Planar Spire True Prophet of Dao

[Dr.Gunsforhands]

"Hm! Then if it pleases you, I'll call you a fool instead," Sirocco muses, since Alder didn't like being called strong. "The least we can do is take advantage of it."

She'd say more to the effect of accepting the self-serving mission, but Khog's version is more than enough. Sirocco empties her glass and neatly places it on a tray as she follows him out, even as Ljiljiana's associates prepare to slaughter the wait staff around her. "Thank you very much for the cider. In your next life, may you find better ambitions than a stupid coin."

-

Sirocco stares up at the maelstrom ahead. Her pegasus is not far behind Khog's. "Well, at least our general direction is laid out for us. We can strategize on the way. Would anyone like to ride with me? There's no sense coming this far only to leave someone behind."

She half-expects someone to counter offering her a ride. It's tough to keep up with an adventurer of Jhoira or Ozzie's calibur.

"We have two targets, and probably a myriad of spells to tease out information about them. Do we have any ideas of their locations, or which we should hit first? I assume the Spire is the more urgent of the two. I imagine striking it down will allow the Pontiff to paint us as a target, but then so would assaulting the Pontiff directly."

...

"Also, I can try calming this water spout with magic, if there are no objections."

Silph appears to help steady the pegasus as Sirocco prepares her lyre for the task of controlling the weather.

[miinstrel]

Osmanthus DV 60' | PP 30 / PIns 19 / PInv 19 AC 21 | HP 200/200 Resist: none Immune: Disease, Poison, Surprised, Sleep Effects: Adv. vs. Charm Conditions: none Before they depart the inn, Osmanthus stops at the mysterious monk at Alder's side. "I've gone on my share of suicide missions, but this one takes the cake." He withdraws a tome from the satchel at his side. "It would be a shame for this to be lost should we fail. The wisdom of ages is tucked within these pages. It's done little to ease my own frustrations... hopefully yours will quell more easily." He pushes the book into her hands before their solemn march to the portal. He didn't revel in the anguish around them. Even for all their faults, most men didn't deserve to suffer. But try as he might to keep his gaze focused on the portal before them he saw everything and allowed it to fan the flames of war just sparking to life amid his new comrades. Spoiler: OOC Show Giving her my Tome of Understanding... just flavor fluff. *** "I'll be my own ride," Osmanthus replies to Sirocco as his form swirls and whips into a maelstrom of its own, nearly invisible against the raging storm around them. "Yes, the Spire should be our first target. The Jorgun will know we're coming once we strike either - best to cut off his army at the source first so his retaliation is dulled. I think I've just the trick to help reduce the Spire to the stone it came from." As the storm subsides from the bard's spell and the group sets off, his unmatched speed quickly sets him at the front of their aerial assault as he scans the skies ahead for threats.

[truemane]

Even though time is short, Sirocco takes ten minutes to summon the power required to alter the weather. Controlling weather is a slow art, and the change takes time.

The group sets out across the vast expanse of water. Within moments they pass under the black roiling storm clouds. And soon therafter, swamped with a raging curtain of rain and buffeted by gale-force winds. The rain and the wind are ice, ice cold and within seconds they are coated in frost.

The pegasi strain to move forward. Visibility drops to almost nothing.

After ten minutes of hard, hard flying the weather has not yet calmed. The storm rages. Lighting bolts stroke from the clouds to the water on all sides.

All at once several of the lighting bolts resolve themselves into figures of dark cloud with cold blue fire for eyes, lit by lightning within.

And around them are other figures, like very tall humanoids, who would be invisible if not for the rain that fell around them.

And just like that, battle is joined.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

First: everyone not resistant/immune to cold damage roll a DC14 Con Save or gain 1 level of exhaustion.

Second:
-I will be secretly making one roll for each PC every ten minutes to see if you've lost your bearings and can no longer tell which way the island is.
-Based on the results of the roll, it is possible to: lost your bearings, kept your bearings, you think you've kept them but really you've lost them.
-I'll make the rolls once this encounter is resolved.
-If anyone has any special abilities that would impact this roll, let me know in the OC.

Third:

COMBAT!

PC's, you go first. Osmathus and Jhoira, your first attacks have advantage (or +5, as applicable).

Conditions:
-All "terrain" is difficult (costs double movement).
-You're all 100 feet in the air (obvs).
Ranged attacks have disadvantage (in the absence of a special ability to see through heavy rain).
-If forced to make a roll to maintain Concentration on a spell, that roll will be at Disadvantage (in the absence of a special ability to keep focus in rain, cold, and wind).

You are all approximately 50ft away from any given enemy.

Turn Order
29 - Osmanthus
23* - Jhoira
17 - Sirocco
10 - Simon
11 - Khog

23 - Stormy Guys (AC 16)
23 - Invisible Guys (AC 15)

[Bobthewizard]

Khog Orc Barbarian 20/ Paladin 20 AC: 17 HP: 340/340 +25 THP | PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 13 HD: 20/20d12, Conditions: rage, death ward Pegasus: AC12, 79/59+20 HP +25 THP, warding bond, death ward As they fly, Khog giving a rousing speech to make sure everyone is hyped for the attack, ending with "Let's go everyone!" He casts warding bond on his pegasus, binding a ring on its ankle to one of the ones on his hand. He casts aid covering the two pegasi and Silph. Then he casts death ward on himself, which also affects his pegasus. After those are done, he rages against the storm, sheltering his pegasus from the worst of it as best he can. Khog watches as the storm coalesces into a range of monsters. He wonders if this means the plan has been discovered or if these creatures stop anyone from crossing. Perhaps Alder Scalescar has failed already. But Kohg is still going to press on. If the Tear can get him back to his wife, he's not going to turn around. He doesn't know what these things are, but he knows what he needs to do. He directs his pegasus to fly at the nearest opponent and slashes at it with his glaive, trying to drop it quickly so we can continue our assault. Spoiler: OOC Show Inspiring leader, everyone gets 25 THP. Then casts 5th level Aid to give Silph and the Pegasi 20HP each. Casts Warding bond on his pegasus (when it takes damage, Khog takes half of it), and casts death ward on himself, which also covers the pegasus. He then enters his rage and stays there. In combat Move: Pegasus dash to nearest foe Action: Reckless attack (everyone has advantage to attack him), Attack 1: (1d20+17)[35], (1d20+17)[22], Slashing (1d10+15)[24] + Radiant (1d8)[1] + Force (3d6)[10] = 35 If Crit add Slashing (4d10)[11] + Radiant (1d8)[3] + Force (3d6)[17] Attack 2: (1d20+17)[37], (1d20+17)[18], Slashing (1d10+15)[16] + Radiant (1d8)[4] + Force (3d6)[10] If Crit add Slashing (4d10)[14] + Radiant (1d8)[5] + Force (3d6)[11] = 60 BA Attack: (1d20+17)[35], (1d20+17)[30], Slashing (1d4+15)[18] + Radiant (1d8)[6] + Force (3d6)[11] = 35 If Crit add Slashing (4d4)[15] + Radiant (1d8)[5] + Force (3d6)[11] Zealot to first attack if crit, otherwise to second attack (1d6+10)[11], if crit add (1d6)[5] = 16 Add 3rd level Smite Radiant (8d8)[34] to first crit = 34 = 180 TOTAL Reaction: AOO if someone leaves his 10' reach, enters his reach (PAM), or attacks another (Sentinel). If AOO hits, target's speed reduced to zero AOO: (1d20+17)[28], (1d20+17)[18], Slashing (1d10+15)[21] + Radiant (1d8)[8] + Force (3d6)[16] = 45 If Crit add Slashing (4d4)[9] + Radiant (1d8)[7] + Force (3d6)[10] Spoiler: Tracking Show Spell Slots, 1st: 4/4, 2nd: 2/3, 3rd: 2/3, 4th 2/3, 5th: 1/2 Relentless 1/1 LR Relentless Rage DC10,+5 Divine Sense 6/6 LR Lay on Hands 100/100 LR Channel Divinity 1/1 SR Cleansing Touch 5/5 LR Avenging Angel 1/1 LR Fanatical Focus 1/1 Rage Zealous Presence: 1/1 LR Force cone: 1/1 LR Inspiring Leader: 0/1 SR Spoiler: notes Show Alder Scalescar Jorgundmir, gold dragon king Ljiljiana, a Mage works for Alder Planar Spire True Prophet of Dao