High Tide is the twentieth and final quest zone, part one of Tides and Time (Story Volume), and is unlocked automatically. It is the fourth zone to be released after the reboot, following Against the King.
Defeat Adar High Priest on Normal difficulty to unlock ?.
- 1. Landfall
- 2. The Village
- 3. Beachhead
- 4. Across the Sand
- 5. Crab Battle
- 6. The Mouth of the Jungle
- 7. Corrupted
- 8. Feral
- 9. Breach
- 10. Guardian (High Tide)
- 11. Stone Wall
- 12. High Priest
Optional Boss Encounters
If you crafted the Boots of Water Walking, you can skip nodes 1, 2, and 3 by walking through the pier and the water. Note: you might have to refresh after equipping the Boots of Water Walking for them to work.
- Common Craft: Aquatic Barb + Ocean Tonic ==> Life Spring
- Common Craft: Aquatic Barb + Ocean Tonic + Sea Slayer ==> Everyone for Themselves
Boss Card Reward
Random Drops Edit
Additionally, it has been noted that this zone also drops the following cards from assorted nodes:
- Allez Hop!
- Backstab (Tides and Time)
- Bastion (Tides and Time)
- Barroom Brawling (Tides and Time)
- Bellicose Beer (Tides and Time)
- Blood in the Water
- Defenders' Strength
- Destructive Resurrection
- Immolation (Tides and Time)
- Masked Manslaughter (Tides and Time)
- Merfolk Brawler
- Merfolk Shaman
- Nature's Grasp (Tides and Time)
- Planned Assault (Tides and Time)
- Seething Wrath (Tides and Time)
- Shaman's Shell
- Starlight (Tides and Time)
- Shining Regeneration
- Summoner of the Deep
- Talisman of Battle (Tides and Time)
- The Best at What I Do (Tides and Time)
- The Best Offense...
- Weaponeer Akashe
- Wings of Fire (Tides and Time)
Burying family never gets any easier.
If anything, it only gets harder. It never hurts less, and the more it happens the fewer hands there are to help put a body in the ground.
You should know. After all, you've done it enough.
When you were six, you helped your father carve a small coffin for your baby %sister%. %She% was born too frail and only lived for a few months before %her% breath just gave out one night. You helped plant the coffin next to the marker that held the name of the %sister% you'd never met. Lost at sea before you were born.
Your mother never really recovered from the heartbreak of losing two %daughters%. You were twelve when you laid her next to your %sisters%.
Your father passed last night, which means it's up to you -- and you alone -- to bury him.
Digging the grave is still the hardest part, especially when you don't have any help. The rain only adds to the difficulty, but you eventually manage. The hole grows, inch by soggy inch, until it's long and deep enough to hold the man's withered body.
The mud sticks to your shovel as you cover the corpse, but things go faster this time around. By the time you're done, the rain has moved on further down the coast to torment some other hapless victim.
With your hair plastered to your head and clothing that couldn't be wetter if you'd gone swimming in it, you trudge back up to your family's cliffside farm. You walk past the empty rows where the crops will need to be planted in a few weeks, past the storehouse, and stop to look at the cottage for a moment.
The door is slightly open, inviting you to return to the safety contained within the building's walls. But you can't quite bring yourself to face the quiet and loneliness waiting inside. Instead, you continue along the path and follow it to the edge of the cliff your home sits atop.
Once you reach the end of the path, you lie out on the ground and let the meager sunlight slowly wash over you as your feet dangle past the cliff's edge as the faint warmth and exhaustion cause you to drift off.
The next thing you know, gravel is crunching beneath booted feet. Somewhere close. Someone has circumvented the wards around the farm! Your breath catches in your throat for a second before you control your panic.
As the footsteps come to a stop, you open your eyes, sit up, and turn to face this interloper.
Five feet away from you is the most terrifying woman you have ever seen.
She stands tall and regal, so still she might as well be carved from stone. Several copies of your face stare back at you from the reflections held within her crown of blades. Her white skull makeup is in stark contrast with her dark skin, and her glowing green eyes feel like they're burrowing into your very soul.
You make no move. Even though you have a knife hanging from your belt, you're fairly certain this person could eviscerate you without any real effort. Her head slowly cocks to the side, and you have the very distinct impression that you are being weighed and measured -- though for what purpose you are unsure.
Her lips twitch. It's hard to tell if she's resisting the urge to smirk or pucker in disapproval.
"So. You would be the last of the bloodline."
"Uh..." Your parents raised you to be well-spoken, and your mother is probably spinning in her grave right at this moment. "Bloodline?"
Her eyes narrow, her face inscrutable.
All you can do is shrug helplessly. "I'm... uh... I'm %name%. I'm the only one left of my family, if that's what you mean."
"Of course," she murmurs, "a family name."
The woman crosses her arms. "You have no idea who I am? Your parents told you nothing?"
"They're passed," you mumble. "I buried my father today."
She clasps her hands behind her back and strolls past you, looking out to the sea. The sunlight dances off her crown, its warmth contrasting with her unsettling appearance and transforming her into a vision of beautiful strangeness.
"I am a friend to your family from times long past." She looks over her shoulder at you. "A story lost to the centuries, perhaps."
You reach up and rub your eyes, before wiping your hand across your face. Maybe it's just to wipe away the grime and sweat. Maybe it's to wipe away the strange apprehension you've been feeling for the day. Maybe it's just a vain attempt to wipe away the past few years. It doesn't matter; when your hand falls away, you're still an orphan standing on a cliff, talking to what seems to be a cryptic vision of death.
"Ma'am." Your voice is calm, but tired. "It's been a long day. How can I be of service to you?"
A slight nod.
"Before I answer that, I must ask another question. Did your parents ever tell you who you were descended from?"
Your apprehension is growing, tingling up the back of your neck. "I know my great, great, great, %grandfather% was a veteran of the Kasan's Civil War. Other than that, no, not really. %He% was killed in a duel only a few years after %he% built this farm. My parents rarely spoke of %him%."
"You are not descended from someone who fought for the Kasan. You are descended from the Kasan %himself%."
The words hit you like a blow, rocking you on your feet. You? Descended from %He% Who Shattered The Realm? The Breaker of West Kruna? The %Father% of the Unraveling?
"No, that... no. We're just farmers, we... I'm not anybody."
She takes a step towards you. "You aren't the first Kasan to plow the field, destined to raise a blade. Your blood has been tied to this land's destiny since time immemorial. The Dragon-Rider protected it. The Kasan broke it."
Her hand raises to touch your forehead. There's a rushing sound and a massive pressure around your head; you're dimly aware that you've fallen to the ground. Before darkness completely overtakes you, her words reach your ears.
"And you must save it."
Your eyes peel open. Blurry light and spinning shapes, shadows. You blink until the room swims into focus, and you sit up.
The woman is sitting on the other side of a heavy desk from you, her legs casually crossed and her chin resting in one hand. "About time you woke up."
You look around, surprised to find yourself in a stately suite. Although the room is sparse, it's elegantly decorated and contains a large bed, dining table, and a wall covered in bookshelves that are filled to bursting. Raising your hand to your forehead, you're shocked to realize you're now wearing an ornate set of armor. Your mind is still a little fuzzy, but it sure looks like you've been kidnapped.
You fix the woman with your eyes. "Ma'am, you may be scary as all hell..." You struggle to keep your tone even, clear of the fear and anger rushing through you. "...and I may not be anyone to speak of, but even I won't stand to be abducted. Who the hell are you?"
For the first time, she smiles. "That's more like it. I've gone by many names. During the Kasan's war, I was best known as 'the Dead Queen.'"
Your breath catches. Even you know that title. You should have put it together for yourself, she looks just like she stepped out of one of your parents' stories from your childhood, but you've been so rattled since you set your shovel to the earth that morning.
Memories jostle for attention. The Dead Queen is only one of her names to survive the centuries. There was also "the Mistress of Nightmares." Not to mention "The Empress of Suffering." An active power during the era of the Kasan, she faded from view and memory after the civil war, but the tales you've heard make her sound like a being with powers comparable to a god.
Every story about the woman is more fantastic than the last. According to some, she raised an army of the undead with the intent of conquering West Kruna. Others say her undead horde was only composed of those who died alone and unwanted, consensually resurrected to be part of a new family. All say her name like a warning.
It slips out as a whisper. "Lady Macar."
"Your ancestor and I worked together from time to time, when our interests aligned. Before %he% died, I promised to guard your family through the generations and send you out to meet your destiny at the proper time. I safeguarded %his% armor and weapons until you were ready for them, and now I've given you a ship to take you where you're needed."
You look around again and notice a subtle rocking sensation.
Well, that explains that.
Macar smoothes out an invisible wrinkle from her skirt, stands, and walks to the cabin doorway. When she looks over her shoulder, she notices you haven't moved. "Well? Are you coming?"
You scramble out from behind the desk, following her topside. In the middle of the deck and the sunlight, men and women scramble back and forth. They pause to reverently nod to Lady Macar whenever they pass in front of her, but it's clear their jobs take precedence over paying homage.
She leads you to the bow, where you both look out across the waves.
"West Kruna is dying." Macar's voice is flat. It's a fact; as indisputable as the vessel you now ride on.
"So why am I here instead of back home?" Your eyes search for anything beyond the waves. "I thought you said I was supposed to save the land."
Macar raises a finger, pointing forward. "He Who Walks Beneath The Waves is waking. Should he reach the shores of West Kruna and feast on the suffering that blights the land, he will be powerful enough to crack the walls between the worlds and bring his brethren through. They will be hungry."
"The stories say you have powers to rival a god, why don't you stop him?"
The Dead Queen sighs. "I am... forbidden. The fate of the world is determined by its mortal inhabitants. Avatars are not allowed to directly affect matters like these."
She stares you down, and you get the impression that you are treading into waters darker and deeper than mankind is meant to swim. You drop your eyes, and the subject.
"This ship is taking you to the Drowned Islands. There is much on those islands that has been waiting for you. Powerful relics, dangerous pitfalls. Foes and allies, victory and death. Whatever destiny you have earned, it waits on those islands ahead."
Your gaze returns to the waves. If you squint, you can just make out a small, dark shape on the horizon.
"Good luck, %name%. May you bring more honor to the name than your ancestor."
You stare out at the islands in silence for a while, and when you turn back, questions on the tip of your tongue, the Dead Queen is gone, and the island grows ever closer.