The Eye of Winter's Fury

by Michael J. Ward

  Speed Brawn Armour Health

  Hunter 2 2 1 30

  Special abilities

  Element of surprise: In the first two combat rounds, the hunter’s speed is reduced to zero.

  If you manage to best this savage hunter, turn to 317. 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.

  167

  The aura of dread around the chest is palpable, the runes growing brighter and more restless as you draw near. Your own distrust is heightened by Nanuk’s agitation – even though your spirit link is weak you can sense the bear huffing and snorting, his teeth bared in warning. Nevertheless, curiosity has got the better of you.

  Putting your hands to the lid of the chest, you lift it open. You flinch, having fully expected some sort of magical trap or curse, but the lid creaks back easily enough – leaving you free to lean over and take a look inside.

  For a brief instant you feel as though you are teetering on the brink of a vast chasm of darkness – an abyss of midnight black. Then two shadowy hands reach out from the gloomy depths, grab you by the shoulders and pull you into the chest.

  You are dragged headfirst along a dark shaft, the walls writhing with hundreds of shadowy hands, all pushing and groping as they guide you deeper and deeper into the dark. Then all of a sudden you are falling, your cries stifled by the thick, oppressive air. You land on a damp, spongy surface – the floor of a murky chamber. Hands continue to stretch and grasp from the black walls, a mournful chorus of wails echoing all around.

  You draw your weapons, eyes desperately searching for a way out. The wailing stops and there is silence.

  Free me, whispers a voice. A woman’s. Young and frightened.

  You look round frantically for the source. Then your eyes alight on a monstrous face, pushing itself out of the far wall. A young girl’s, once beautiful, perhaps – but now twisted and distorted into an evil mask of malign hatred. The head continues to stretch towards you, its long neck little more than a few threads of shadow distending behind it.

  The mouth widens, revealing a dark maw filled with hundreds of similar faces, all grinning evilly, their teeth filed down to dagger-sharp points. You try and back away but the walls have closed in, the ghostly hands pushing you towards the snapping, hungry faces. It is time to fight:

  Speed Magic Armour Health

  Pandora 7 5 5 50

  Helpings hands 5 4 4 25

  Special abilities

  Helping hands: You must reduce your speed by 1 for the duration of this combat. Once the helping hands are defeated, this ability no longer applies.

  Pandora’s pain: At the end of each combat round you must take 2 damage, ignoring armour. Once Pandora is defeated, this ability no longer applies.

  You must defeat both Pandora and the helping hands to win the combat. If you manage to defeat this headstrong horror, turn to 284.

  168

  (If this is your first time visiting the battlements, turn to 223. Otherwise, read on.)

  On reaching the walkway, you are buffeted by the strong winds gusting in from across the broken wasteland. Lord Everard stands alone at the wall, cloak whipped back from his broad shoulders, his expression pensive.

  Will you:

  Speak with Lord Everard? 209

  Climb the stairs to the mage tower? 301

  Return to the main courtyard? 113

  169

  You grope across a pebbled slope, still half-blinded by the stark brightness of the outdoors. Stones and pebbles shift beneath your weight, some skittering away to form rippling streams. Near at hand, coarse yellow grass blows flat in the wind, while ahead of you a field of scoured boulders skirts the edge of a jagged fissure..

  With a grunt you drag yourself a little further down the slope, your strength ebbing into a numb exhaustion. For a fleeting second, as your eyes flutter closed, you see Nanuk silhouetted against the green of the Norr landscape. He paces back and forth, restless – waiting. It would be so easy to let yourself go . . . to return to the dream.

  A hissing snarl. Footsteps crunch.

  You startle awake as three figures sharpen into focus, marching straight towards you up the slope. Their outlines are wide and brawny. They move with purpose, their clawed hands gripping wicked-looking cleavers. As they near the harsh light catches on their bodies, highlighting scales and teeth.

  You scrabble frantically for your weapons, realising that these are the same horrors that assaulted the keep; some mockery of human and reptile, with evil faces distended into elongated snouts. You back up the slope, crab-stepping with weapons held ready. But the creatures’ attention is caught by something else . . . above you . . .

  A white shape blurs through the air, slamming into the lead creature and sending it flailing backwards. As it crashes down, you see a bone javelin protruding from its forehead.

  You duck down, casting a quick glance past your shoulder. Beyond the rock fall, a shelf of cream-coloured rock juts several metres above you. Whoever threw the javelin must be on top of the escarpment and out of sight.

  The clatter of steel and a scuffling of feet.

  ‘Ara vantar!’

  Suddenly, two bodies come hurtling over the edge of the rock shelf, tangled together. They land heavily, scraping and rolling their way down the slope. A scaled creature and a man. Dust and stone is kicked into the air, limbs ploughing furrows into the ground as they wrestle with each other, both a match in size and brawn.

  Another cry. To your left, a giant of a man drops down onto the slope, half-skidding on the loose stones. Dressed in furs and hide, with a mane of thick hair hanging past his shoulders, he looks more animal than human. A gruff roar escapes his lips as the giant springs forward. He barrels into one of the remaining monsters, leading with a bone-spiked shoulder. They both go down in a heap of fur and scaled flesh.

  The last monster turns to aid its fallen companion, kicking out at the giant before he has a chance to react. The blow sends the hunter lurching backwards, the bone knife in his hand skating away down the slope. Hissing in triumph, the creature makes another leap for him, its rusty cleaver raised high above its head.

  A rattling clink.

  The reptile seems to hang in the air for a second, then gives a surprised shriek as it is dragged backwards in a spray of blood. A third hunter, shorter than the others, with a shaven head and weasel-like face, is gripping the end of a chain, its links wrapped around his gloved arm. The other end appears to be sunk into the creature’s back by some type of claw-like spear.

  With extraordinary strength, the smaller hunter drags the monster towards him, then races around behind a boulder. The creature slams against the side of the rock, just as the hunter reappears, dragging the chain with him. He leaps over the struggling monster and pulls the chain tight across its neck. With a deft movement of his hands, he locks the two lengths of chain together, leaving the monster bound to the rock, choking and gasping for air.

  You rise to your feet, transfixed by the battle – looking from one fight to the next, unsure where to focus your efforts. The three hunters are putting on an impressive show, looking more than a match for their larger adversaries. To your left, the giant-sized hunter is now straddling his downed opponent, whose body has hardened to stone. Unperturbed, the hunter has a rock in both hands and is smashing it repeatedly into the monster’s face, sending splinters and stone-dust flying in all directions.

  Further down the slope, the first hunter is punching tooth-like daggers into the side of his assailant. His arms and chest are coated in gore. The monster kicks its legs, claws trying to find purchase around the man’s throat, but the hunter leans away, laughing as if it was all a game. The daggers rise and fall a final time. Dark blood trickles between the pebbles.

  ‘Trek ni vedi!’ The shaven-headed hunter has brandished an axe, the blade looking like a flanged bone. His arm swings back and forth, blood spraying to either side. Then he stands back, hold
ing the monster’s severed head before his grinning face. ‘Trek ni vedi!’ He turns and waves it at his companions.

  The first hunter hawks then spits a shower of bloody froth into the dirt. He goes to wipe his mouth on his sleeve, but jerks away when he sees the gore smeared all over it. He gives it a tentative sniff, then a thoughtful lick, grimacing with revulsion a moment later. ‘Slabra ki.’

  His gaze shifts across to his fellow hunters.

  That’s when he catches sight of you, his blue eyes narrowing. ‘Utkik! Unda varlden!’ He quickly rises to his feet, the two bloody daggers still gripped in his ham-sized fists. As he advances you notice the birth mark on his face, almost like a red claw discolouring the left cheek. A necklace of bones rattle and clink against his broad chest.

  But what you notice most is the look in his eyes.

  The three hunters are clearly Skards – and you doubt they will show you any mercy.

  Will you

  Stand your ground and fight? 355

  Attempt to flee? 313

  Drop your weapons and surrender? 443

  170

  The knife is small and easy enough to conceal. You have gained the following item:

  Pruning knife

  (left hand: dagger)

  +1 magic

  Ability: first cut

  You contemplate investigating the carved box, but the crunch of boots outside the cabin alerts you to danger. Turn to 102.

  171

  ‘I did,’ Harris proclaims, looking pleased with himself. ‘To date, and I know this for a fact,’ he waves a finger through the air, as if lecturing to students, ‘no-one has made it through a full night. The last one to try was Borgant Hull. Poor fellow.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ you croak, not sure you want to know the answer.

  ‘Oh, he’s dead,’ replies Harris, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Went quite mad, I believe.’

  Brack scratches at his blond hair, no longer looking so sure of himself. ‘And he was a soldier?’

  ‘No, he was a coward,’ states Harris, twitching with irritation. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. After all, we have you to protect us, don’t we, Brack?’

  The burly warrior beams back, squaring his broad shoulders in acknowledgment of the praise – evidently not picking up on the note of sarcasm in Harris’s words or the boy’s mocking grin. (Return to 86 to ask another question or turn to 297 to continue on to the tower.)

  172

  You make a snap decision and veer to the left, scraping past the walls of the cleft to emerge in a shadowed gorge. The air here is cold, the wind keening eerily along the sharp, angular rock walls.

  You throw yourself into a headlong sprint, heedless of the uneven ground and scattered rubble, which could twist or snap an ankle with ease. The noise of the dogs behind you is getting louder and more insistent. You can picture their ugly faces, the strong jaws and teeth . . .

  ‘Move!’ you scream at yourself. Don’t look back.

  The jagged walls zigzag back and forth, eventually throwing you against a wall of impassable rock. The only way forward is to climb. You look up at the daunting rock face, rising fifty metres or more to the grey sky above.

  To climb the wall you will need to complete a speed or brawn challenge, using whichever attribute is highest:

  Speed/Brawn

  Canyon climb 9

  If you are successful, turn to 333. If you fail the challenge, turn to 194.

  173

  The barman snorts with amusement, then startles when he realises you’re being deadly serious. ‘Bowfinch? Blimey, that’ll set you back a pretty penny, especially out here. Do yer think the likes of this rabble carry that kind of money?’ He gestures to his shabby-looking clientele. ‘Listen. Your best bet is to try the Coracle, down at the docks. There’s some party going on there, a rich lord showing off his money. Maybe the Coracle’s stocked its cellar with something more than bilge water.’

  Will you:

  Ask about work? 469

  Take a seat in one of the alcoves? 634

  Listen to the conversation at the bar? 534

  Leave? 426

  174

  You drag yourself onto the ice shelf, battling against the furious wind that seems intent on pulling you back. Your cloak snaps through the air as you struggle to your knees, covering your face to shield it from the snow and ice borne up on the currents.

  The opening is a wind tunnel – a wide shaft that stretches back into the innards of the mountain. Water trickles down the walls, sculpting the ice into smooth, dripping candles. Some almost seem to hold a shape – like hands reaching out, grasping towards you. Similar formations hang from the ceiling, all angled in the direction of the wind.

  Head bowed, you crawl forwards into the tunnel, each inch that you gain a torturous effort. It is as if the very mountain itself is trying to expel you from its presence.

  Then you hear the voices. Moans. Whispers. A pained cry, carried on the wind.

  You look up, to see a mist coalescing around the dagger-like stalactites. Lightning flashes – and for a moment ghostly faces are illuminated amongst the smoke, their features drawn and twisted into demonic horrors. A keening wail echoes from their open mouths.

  You watch transfixed as the misty coils wrap around the hanging ice, tightening and constricting like snakes. There is a dreadful cracking sound as the stalactites come loose. Ice showers down into the passageway, followed by a whistling rain of deadly spikes. By some miracle you manage to twist aside, saving yourself from becoming impaled. But the wind catches you off guard, lifting you off your feet and sending you tumbling back along the passageway.

  Desperately you reach out, spectral claws lancing from your fingers to scrape and then dig into the wall. You barely have a chance to steady yourself before the wailing mist is streaking down towards you, its broiling fists gripping daggers of ice. It is time to fight:

  Speed Magic Armour Health

  The Keening 4 4 3 50

  Special abilities

  Stalactite splinters: At the start of every third combat round, the keening mist showers you with fragments of ice. You must roll six dice. For each or result, you must automatically take 4 damage, ignoring armour. If you wish, you can spend a speed point to avoid any/all damage from the six rolls (your speed is restored at the end of the combat.)

  Wind fall: The wind is battering against you, driving you back towards the edge of the ice shelf. If the keening is not defeated by the end of the seventh combat round, you are sent hurtling out into the snow-whipped skies. This automatically loses you the combat.

  If you manage to defeat this chilling opponent, turn to 352. If you are defeated, you are thrown back out of the cave. Record the defeat on your hero sheet, then return to 361.

  175

  You push desperately into the forest, not daring to look back in case you see the angered fengles in hot pursuit. Instead, you try and focus on the path ahead, working hard to maintain your footing as the tangled roots and loose stones threaten to send you tumbling. The ground soon dips, forming a downward slope. As the angle steepens, your downward momentum causes you to pitch forward, sprawling head over heels down the slope to land with a loud smack in a thick pool of mud.

  You splash and kick, struggling to find purchase on the pool’s bottom. Gradually, you manage to right yourself, relieved to discover that the mud isn’t as deep as you thought – the sludgy waters only reach to your waist. However, your problems are far from over. A sharp serpentine hiss sounds inches from your ear. With a startled cry, you flinch away, covering your face with your arms. The imagined strike never lands. Instead you feel something long and slippery slide past your legs, then begin to coil around your body.

  Steadily, you lower your arms, eyes now fixed on the scaled head bobbing back and forth above the water. Transfixed by its glittering eyes, you watch as its wide jaws hiss open, sending a forked tongue flickering between sharp fangs. Panic suddenly drives you to action. Frantically, you reach for
your dagger, realising that you are now trapped in the clutches of a giant mud snake. Unless you can defeat it quickly, the snake’s venom will soon overpower you. It is time to fight:

  Speed Brawn Armour Health

  Mud snake 0 1 0 14

  Special abilities

  Mud bath: You must lower your speed by 1 for the duration of this combat.

  Weak venom: If you take health damage from the snake, roll a die. On a result you are inflicted with venom and must lose a further 2 health at the end of each combat round for the duration of the combat. If you roll or more, the venom has no effect. Once inflicted with venom, there is no need to roll in future rounds. You can use your charm special ability if you wish, to reroll the venom result (remember, you can only use each charm ability once per combat).

  If you manage to defeat the mud snake, remember to restore your health then turn to 140.

  176

  The spirit vanishes and the medallion with it. Anise nods with approval. ‘Good riddance,’ she says to the now-empty space where the spirit had once been. ‘Come on, let’s get to the roof before any more ghosts decide they want to play.’ Turn to 195.

  177

  You cross to the other side of the eyrie, where a slope of tumbled boulders leads you back down to the canyon floor. From here, you backtrack through the narrow gullies, determined to discover what has become of the cart and your companions. Turn to 391.

  178

  You enter a steamy kitchen, where a red-faced cook is beating and stretching dough. He raises a floury hand as Anise scampers past. ‘You’ve forgotten Segg’s wine again, girl,’ he snaps briskly. ‘You know what the old fool’s like when he doesn’t get his wine.’

  The cook does a double-take when he sees you hovering by the doorway. ‘’Ere, what d’you want?’ He waves you away, sending a cloud of flour billowing across the table. ‘I swear, we got no more, I tell you. We’re on basic rations – if you want suckling pig or venison I suggest you turn round and ride south, good and hard now.’