The world was dying. Everyone could see it. The Life-Quest had gone unfinished for too long, the obstacles insurmountable, the foes too numerous. Every hero who dared to try returned in dejected failure - the few who survived long enough to return.

The world was dying, the mother-roots growing thin and dry, the sky-trunk turning grey and wan, and no one could do anything about it. The Great Dark had seen to it. His tendrils grew thick and fat while the mother-roots faded. His champions slew heroes by the dozens and enslaved the towns those heroes died trying in vain to protect. The Great Dark slithered across the world, sapping its strength to feed himself, as his own sky-trunk began to grow heavenward.

The world was dying, and with its death a new world of darkness and despair would be birthed. From this world’s death would be born a power to threaten all the worlds, everywhere the Great Dark's new sky-trunk could reach. There existed no power, no hero, no land in all the world strong enough to stop it.

The world was dying. There was nothing left to lose.

In a room in a castle there sat The Council. The First Council, The Final Council. They met for the one and only time in a kingdom far to the motherward, nestled just beneath the sky-trunk with its shadow casting the room in darkness; they met with mage-light and life-water and stone-glow to light their way; they met with desperation in their hearts and resignation upon their lips.

After three weeks of arguing, of debating, of discussion both friendly and bitter, the room had at long last fallen silent.

“Then, the time has come,” said the merling representative of the Free Lands of the Seas, finally breaking the long silence. She did not speak with firmness or any drama, but shamefully, as one would admit a betrayal to a lover. “We must sign the contract. There is no other course left to us.”

They all knew it - why else would they have gathered here? - but each felt quietly relieved not to be the one to voice it.

The councilman of the Central Dominion spoke next, his voice lacking its usual booming stridency, as though he too were ashamed.

“I have brought the key.” And he drew it forth from beneath his shirt, a black key edged in blue light somehow made solid, holding it out like a venomous thing that would strike at him if he were careless.

The Queen of Highsilver Court stood, her pale face even paler than usual as she reached across the table. Her hand trembled only a moment, only withdrew a fraction, but all saw it and commiserated with her plight. To be the one whose hand unleashed chaos upon the world was a fate none envied.

“The terms have been written,” spoke the Highsilver Queen, her voice tremulous. “Does any wish to alter them before the contract is sealed?”

“The Manywoods are satisfied with the terms,” said the night-elf representative of Manywoods.

“The Central Dominion is satisfied with the terms,” said their councilman, his voice a bit stronger now.

“The Holy Empire is satisfied with the terms,” said the lightling priest bitterly, as though the words burned his throat.

“The Free Lands of the Seas are satisfied with the terms.”

“The Conclave of the Forgotten is satisfied with the terms.”

“The Restless Riders are satisfied with the terms.”

“High Ridge is satisfied with the terms.”

“The Forgotten are satisfied with the terms.”

“And Highsilver Court is satisfied with the terms,” said their queen. She drew a long breath, then turned and strode with regal solemnity toward the Box resting on its pillar by the wall.

The Box bore little resemblance to anything in their world, its edges made of lines of blue light and its walls invisible planes that warped the world seen through them.

She placed the key into the lock, and turned it. The box sprang open. The Contract appeared in the air above it as though written in magelight. The letters were foreign and strange, but the meaning imprinted itself into the mind of any who saw it.

If you are in need, true and desperate need, of heroes at any cost, then we can help. This help comes with a price. Once you open your world to our heroes, it cannot be undone. They will save you, but we cannot control them.

List the criteria for success in the window below, and it will be transmitted to our heroes upon arrival. What they do from that point on is out of our hands. We will continue sending them until your criteria have been met. Upon completion, they will be given the option to leave or remain. This is a non-negotiable part of the contract on our end, so stop asking us to change it.

Rent-A-World Online will not be held responsible for any looting, assassination, mayhem, wanton slaughter, destruction of property, or any other action taken by contracted heroes. Some restrictions apply, not available in all multiverses. For full details contact us at our main office…. at which point it degenerated into a truly incomprehensible jumble of numbers and letters.

The Highsilver Queen reverently placed their final draft of the Contract within the glowing box of light, and a new paragraph of indecipherable text appeared beneath the others.

Quest Criteria:

Complete the Life-Quest.

Save the world.

Revive the mother-roots.

Protect the lands and people of Highsilver Court, High Ridge, The Restless Riders, The Free Lands of the Seas, The Forgotten, Manywoods, The Holy Empire, and the Central Dominion.

Destroy the Great Dark.

Are you sure you wish to submit this quest contract? Once submitted, the terms cannot be changed!

The Queen of Highsilver Court looked back one final time to those seated at the council table, her hand hovering above the word ‘YES’ floating in the air.

They nodded.

She pressed down.

The world was dying. But now, perhaps, it could be saved.