He is old, so old.
His toil is endless, and every step becomes harder and harder. Just one more, he says to himself, just one more step, just one more day, just one more millennium. But he grows weak and tired.
The Sun rises and there is a brand new day.
How he would have laughed at the idea of himself growing old and frail, once. He remembers those days when he ran with his brothers and sisters under the primordial sky, naked golden skin glistening, pure joy of life and hunt in their hearts. They tore bears apart with bare hands. But those days are long gone now.
The Sun sets and another day is over.
He is doing it for his family. They need him, he says to himself, but he no longer believes they remember. They live for the moment, for passion and action and sensation. Most likely they just forgot about him and moved on, unburdened by the grim thoughts of his eternal labour.
The Sun rises, burning bright for all.
The orb is searing his hands. Once he would cavort in a blizzard and swim in a volcano, but now his skin is blistered from the heat and yet he shivers from the freezing air. But he presses on.
The Sun sets as it did for times untold.
He remembers the day when the old father died. His family was solemn and sombre, a rare sight indeed. The old father toiled for them all, and someone would have to continue the work. He was young and foolish and proud. He volunteered.
The Sun rises and it will do so again tomorrow.
For how long is he going in circles? First, days flew past and he didn't break a sweat, then years and he was bored but determined. Then centuries and millennia and even more and ever more...
The Sun sets, for it never stops.
His chest hurts and he can hardly breathe. His left arm went numb and he more staggers than walks. Yet the work is there and then there is more work, always.
Just one more step.
Just one more step, just one more step.
Just one more...
He is so exhausted.
There is a mountain at the end of the world, and a plateau at its top. There is a massive circle scorched into the rock of the plateau. There is a lone golden figure pushing a burning boulder of gold along that trail. And there is the Sun in the sky, forever circling the world, blazing just as the boulder of gold does.
Except the Sun has stopped.
Where did the Sun stop?
- Just below horizon, the world is in unending twilight.
- Just after sunrise and the Sun is sitting on the horizon now.
- The Sun is hanging low in the sky, a morning forever more.
- High in the sky, maybe even at the zenith. It burns with unrelenting heat.
- Red sky at night, shepherd's delight. Dusk came but the Sun never fully set.
- It was night, and now the night will not go away.
Can the PCs find another god willing to take on the burden of the Sun? Or is there another way?
