If you manage to overcome this bird of prey, turn to 356. If you lose the combat, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet. You may then attempt the combat again or return to the map.
84
Your weapon shreds through the ghost’s body, drawing out deafening shrieks of pain. Within moments, nothing of it remains but a few wisps of smoke which quickly diffuse into the mist. Exhausted from the fight, you slump against the statue, your relief tainted by the knowledge that there will be more – a lot more.
As if on cue, a shrieking wail rends the air, followed by a whole dirge-like chorus. Then something deeper, more powerful, raises its voice above the din – a thunderous roar suggestive of a monstrous abomination.
You scan your surroundings, trying to gauge which direction they are coming from. This hiding place no longer feels safe. Through the banks of fog you start to see shapes. More shadows creeping across the sand, their black claws grasping towards you. And behind them a giant of darkness, with red burning eyes and a crown of iron spikes.
You turn and run, heading in the opposite direction, letting the strange mist engulf you once again. This is how every dream plays out – you run, you hide, you run . . . The only certainty is that you have to survive.
The landscape changes quickly, becoming a plain of stunted blackened trees and weathered boulders, all sculptured into leering demonic faces. In the distance you can dimly make out a line of mountains, their edges picked out by flickering pulses of green lightning. They are the only notable landmark on this hellish plain so you decide to head towards them, hoping their slopes might offer some protection.
But it seems the dream will not let you escape so easily. As you hurry between the sculptured rocks, you hear a fresh peal of demonic cries. Within seconds they come into view, bright against the green mist. Their bodies blaze like hearth fires, crackling and hissing as they scamper on all fours. There is a whole pack of them, closing in from both sides. You know you can’t possibly fight them all, there are too many – maybe twenty or thirty.
‘Wake up!’ you scream at yourself. ‘Wake up!’
You stumble and fall, crashing down onto the cold sandy floor. The nearest group of demons skid past then hurry back, their mouths cracking open to reveal fangs of charred black stone. You cover your face in terror as the heat from their bodies draws close, singeing your clothing. ‘Wake up,’ you screech. ‘WAKE UP!’ Turn to 47.
85
It feels like walking against a flood. All around you currents of sand and stone fly past, screaming and howling with angry voices, ripping at your cloak, battering against your armour, whipping you with sharpened lengths. The deluge is blinding, disorienting, filling your vision with a chaotic confusion – as if the very land itself has risen up against you, seeking to thwart your progress.
You stumble onwards. Unharmed. The flying rubble passes through your spirit body, leaving no mark or scratch, nothing but a tingling cold. Only your clothing suffers from the assault: metal now scoured and dented, cloth shredded to tatters. (You must lower a single attribute by 1 on a head, chest or cloak item.)
Your magic keeps you anchored, powering each stride, stopping you from being lifted off into the storm. But it takes every ounce of willpower, pitting your mental strength against that of the wind: two elements fighting for dominion.
The wind shows no mercy, throwing itself against you in endless waves, its own will bent on punishing you. Breaking you.
The old Arran would have given up and let the storm have its way. The old Arran would not have had the strength to endure such might. But you have been forged anew – through pain and sacrifice and death. You meet its fury with your own. Another step and then another.
Just when it feels you have nothing left to give the wind loses its vigour, the walls of sand gradually thinning to a pattering rain. A few more strides and the storm is behind you – its roiling waves curving overhead, like a giant dome.
And beneath it, a city of ruins.
The architecture is both alien and familiar – a collision of different styles, as if its makers worked in isolation rather than unison. Jagged towers and broken-topped halls give way to grand and opulent palaces. Beyond them huge angular edifices rise high as mountains, scraping the very heights of the storm, their immense shadows deep and far-reaching.
You walk along the deserted spaces, the ground dry and cracked, contoured into uneven ripples suggesting the passage of water in times past. Dark lichen crawls out of cracks in walls, creepers hang like dirty cobwebs from arches and bridges. Each building appears hollow, empty. Occasionally, you spy shapes out of the corner of your eye – shadows hovering in doorways and windows. But each time you look they appear to elude you, refusing to be seen.
And then there is the heat. A stifling presence. It rises up out of crevasses and fractures in the rock, expelling an acrid smoke into the air. You cannot fathom what evil is at work beneath your feet – turning this once frozen land into a desert.
You head deeper, the wind still dogging your steps, dragging half-heard voices along the deserted streets. At times you are sure you catch a maddened cry or a peal of laughter, but when you try and discern its source you find yourself wandering lost and confused amidst an ever-branching maze of avenues, their crumbling buildings staring back in vacant silence. Mocking.
Not a city. A graveyard.
And yet, somewhere amongst these forgotten ruins, there has to be the source of the storm. Perhaps the witch herself . . .
You cast out your mind like a net, extending invisible tendrils of magic, feeling for other traces of power. Amongst the buildings there are glimmers, perhaps other souls lost and damned amongst the wreckage – but they are mere candle flames to the sun-sized power that burns intensely . . . right ahead of you.
The street is empty.
You lift your eyes, scanning the walls and rooftops until you spot the creature, squatted on an irregular mass of rubble atop a high tower. It has the appearance of a gigantic fly, black bodied and covered in hair, with six spiny legs splayed out across the rocks. The demon’s head comprises a single compound eye, its fractured surface glittering like a dark jewel. It stares out across the ruined city, focused on something distant . . .
The storm.
As you watch, the demon spreads its wings; four immense membranes of midnight black, pitted with white orbs. The wings extend vertically into the sky, rocking back and forth like the sails of a ship – each one moving independently of the others. You feel a prickling against your mind, a sense that . . . you are being watched.
In horror, you realise the true nature of the white orbs. They are eyeballs. Hundreds of them.
One of the wings snaps rigid. From the beast’s head three tentacle-like appendages burst out from beneath the main eye, their ends snaking round to face you.
Quickly you race for cover as the street is engulfed in a torrent of oily-black ooze, splatting across the cracked red earth. A second later a jet of fire hits the oil, setting it alight. The heat is other-worldly, a spirit-fire. You scrabble over broken rubble, seeking to put distance between yourself and the searing blaze.
The wings snap round once again, searching for you. Using the debris as a shield you make for a crumbling wall, vaulting off a hunk of masonry to reach the top then jumping again to catch a ledge on a facing building. You draw back into a recess, peering cautiously round its edge, studying the demon’s tower.
The interior floors have collapsed, making it impossible to ascend from the ground, but above you an adjoining bridge offers a way across, allowing you to scale the outer walls to the summit. An easy enough climb, if you can avoid being spotted. It is time to fight:
Speed Magic Armour Health
Sentinel eye 13 8 5 40(*)
Sentinel wings 13 6 7 60
Acid proboscis 12 5 9 30
Oil proboscis 12 5 9 30
Fire proboscis 12 5 9 30
Special abilities
Deadly ascent: This com
bat is played differently to a normal combat. In order to reach the sentinel you must first scale the tower whilst avoiding its gaze. To achieve this, you must take three speed challenges to reach the summit. Any time the result is 19 or less, you have been spotted – and must roll and apply the following damage/effect:
or You are hit by the oil proboscis. This inflicts 1 damage die, ignoring armour, and reduces your speed by 2 for the next challenge test or combat round.
or You are hit by the fire proboscis. This inflicts 1 damage die, ignoring armour. If, in the previous test or combat round, you were hit by oil, this damage is increased to 2 damage dice.
or You are hit by the acid proboscis. This reduces your armour by 2 (each time) for the duration of the combat. Once your armour is reduced to zero, you must take 1 damage die instead.
If a proboscis has already been defeated, you can ignore its effect and move onto the next challenge.
If the result is 20 or more, you pass the challenge test. Once you have completed three challenges (passed or failed), you have reached the top and can attack the sentinel as normal, rolling for attack speed/damage etc.
Blind the eye: (*) To win the combat you must defeat the sentinel eye by reducing its health to zero. However, you can only attack and apply damage to the sentinel eye once the wings and the three proboscises have been defeated. Otherwise, it is immune to all damage effects.
Proboscis strikes: If you take health damage from a proboscis in regular combat, you must also apply its effect (see deadly ascent). For example, if you lost a combat round to the fire proboscis you would take damage from its damage score – and also roll an extra die for its fire effect.
Wing buffet: If the sentinel wings and at least one proboscis are still in play, roll a die at the end of each combat round. If the result is or less you are knocked back to the ground and must start your ascent again (see deadly ascent). or more, there is no effect. (This ability only comes into effect once you are in regular combat with the sentinel.)
If you manage to defeat this ocular menace turn to 588.
86
Quest: The Dread Gulf Dare
(You must have the keyword kitchens on your hero sheet before you can begin this quest.)
Anise puts a hand on your arm, steering you along the narrow tunnel. You surrender to her direction, no longer able to focus, the pain and cramping in your limbs only getting worse.
‘We’re almost there,’ she insists, her voice pitched low.
You try to answer, but a jolt of pain causes you to bite down on your tongue. All around you the walls glimmer with magic, their holy scripture forming dizzying whorls before your blurred vision. How did I get talked into this? Ahead of you, a line of torches splutter blue flames along the low-ceilinged passageway. The bright procession stretches as far as the eye can see.
‘I have to go back . . .’ you gasp at last, batting at the air. ‘The walls . . . the scripture . . . it burns . . .’
‘We’re here now, shush!’ Anise swings you round, to a small archway in the wall. You would have easily missed it, still hobbling along the tunnel – to who knows where.
You duck down, entering an even narrower passageway. At its end it opens out into a small room, where a solitary guard is slumped in a chair, head resting on the table. He snores loudly, his breath blowing crumbs across his half-eaten plate of food.
Behind him an iron portcullis has been raised, leaving an open archway to the chill night air.
‘Good, the sleep powder has worked,’ whispers Anise, moving to one of the torches along the wall. There is a clatter of metal as she struggles to lift it out of the sconce. As you go to help her, the guard murmurs in his sleep, snorting out a long deep breath. For a moment, you both freeze, watching him – waiting until his breathing becomes regular again.
Anise gives a sigh of relief. ‘The recipe was one of Segg’s,’ she says, lifting the torch free. ‘He won’t rise ’til morning.’
‘This was a bad idea,’ you reply, gripping your pounding head.
‘Oh come on, grumpy.’ Anise snatches your arm and turns you to face the open doorway. ‘It will be fun.’
You allow yourself to be guided by the kitchen girl, out through the postern gate and onto a ledge of cracked rock. It winds around the edge of the rift, joining with a jagged causeway that criss-crosses its way to a lone tower, standing ominous and silent against the twilight sky.
Where the ledge meets the causeway, you see two figures waiting for you – one holding a torch similar to Anise’s. In the circle of blue light, you can dimly make out a scarecrow-thin figure in robes and a taller companion, broad and muscular.
As you near, the robed figure steps forward, pulling back their cowl.
‘What the – what you bring corpse-stink for?’ The stranger exclaims in a whiney high-pitched voice.
You recognise him instantly as Harris, Segg’s young apprentice. The boy clutches a large leather-bound book to his scrawny chest, continuing to glare at you with a petulant frown.
‘Hey, you never said she was coming!’ The taller companion lowers his torch, thrusting it forward to illuminate both your faces. The male is only a few years older than Harris, clad in a thick fur cloak and a weathered coat – both straining to contain his brawny physique.
‘I had to,’ snaps Harris. ‘I needed her to slip the powder to the guard.’
The larger warrior snorts. ‘I ain’t spending a night with a Skard.’
‘You don’t have a choice, Brack,’ says Harris, glaring up at his companion. ‘Or I’ll tell everyone you wimped out – you failed the dare.’
Brack looks about to argue, then falls into an angry silence.
‘What is this dare?’ you ask, looking from one to the other.
‘Oh, did your girlfriend not tell you?’ pipes up Brack, eyes narrowing at Anise. ‘We gonna spend a night – a whole night – out there, across the Dread Gulf.’ He turns and points to the lone tower, perched precariously on the spit of rock. ‘We’re spending a whole night in the Necromancer’s Tower.’
Will you:
Ask who came up with the idea? 171
Ask what is so special about the tower? 203
Ask about the book Harris is carrying? 266
Try and convince them it’s a crazy idea? 225
Continue to the tower? 297
87
Most of the other racers have also opted to steer clear of the snow. However, in order to avoid the fractures and broken areas of the ice-sheet the sleds are forced to bunch together. You soon find yourself hemmed in on both sides by fellow racers. The competing dog-teams snap and bite at one another, harnesses quickly becoming tangled as the fight grows more intense.
You will need to take a challenge test using your toughness attribute:
Toughness
Grid lock 9
If you are successful, turn to 581. Otherwise, turn to 460.
88
You push open the double-doors and enter the hall. A dozen men are seated at the trestle tables, tucking into bowls of warm porridge. Most of them look tired, eating in silence. Others lean close, sharing hushed stories, occasionally breaking into low hums of laughter. You suspect these must be the night watch, fresh back from duty. Anise is hurriedly rushing between the men, refilling mugs and clearing dishes. She catches your eye for an instant, then continues to attend the soldiers.
If you have the keyword gains on your hero sheet, turn to 277. Otherwise, you see no reason to stay here, so return to the main courtyard. Turn to 113.
89
‘Ahh, you do have a kind heart,’ says the bard, nodding. ‘And for that, you should be rewarded.’ She reaches down to her belt and unfastens a pouch of gold, then tosses it to you. Opening it up, you find 50 gold crowns inside.
If you are a rogue, turn to 618. Otherwise, Talia blows you a kiss and then departs, leaving you alone in the secret laboratory. Turn to 747.
90
For defeating the mage, you may now help yourself
to one of the following rewards:
Depth plungers Gulf climbers Abyssal spike
(feet) (gloves) (main hand: dagger)
+1 speed +1 armour +1 brawn +1 speed +2 brawn
Ability: knockdown (requirement: warrior) Ability: barbs Ability: bleed (requirement: rogue)
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 141.
91
The palace library held a number of books written by the Botany Society, one of which was filled with sketches of various fungi. You remember that some species are deadly and poisonous, whilst others can prove delicious to eat, and may even have special magical properties. Uncertain as to which category these strange toadstools will fall into, you cautiously edge closer to the nearest one, wrinkling your nose at the sulphurous smoke oozing from its tip. You can’t imagine this would be good to eat, but appearances can sometimes be deceptive. Gingerly, you reach out with a finger and prod the toadstool cap . . .
Suddenly the air around you explodes in a mass of whirling, yellow spores. You stumble back, half-blinded by the assault, dimly aware that the rest of the toadstools have started to pump similar plumes of yellow spores into the clearing. Staggering through the haze, you try and spot a means of escape, but your blurred vision has left you disorientated. You knock into one of the toadstools, reeling away from its slimy surface only to blunder into another. They are all around you now, creaking and squelching closer – looking to trap you at the centre of their deadly ring of death.
Desperately, you look around for a means of defending yourself. Next to the scattered bones, you spot a broken branch of willow. With no other option, you hastily pick it up, brandishing it like a club. You have now gained the following item:
Whacking willow
(main hand: club)
+1 brawn
You realise your only chance of survival is to bash your way through the circle of toadstools. It is time to take on the might of:
Speed Brawn Armour Health
The Eye of Winter's Fury Page 10