The woman, Reah, takes over. ‘The rock is unlike anything we have seen before. Our leader went back in, with four of our team – to try and find a way into the deeper caves, to see if we could find out more. They didn’t come back.’
Will you:
Ask about the rock that was found? 264
Ask about the Titans? 136
Ask about the man in the tent? 332
Ask how you might help? (starts the quest) 146
238
The tentacles hang uselessly from the beast’s bulbous body, streaking the rock with an oily film. You continue to rain blows against the head, your magic blasting through the thick pulpy flesh. The kraken gives a last mournful-sounding wail, then it slumps to the floor of its cave, ink oozing from its shattered mouth.
Congratulations! For defeating this monstrous beast, you have gained the following special reward:
Kraken oil
(backpack)
You don’t want to let
this one slip away!
You sail past the kraken’s body, making for an opening that leads inside the mountain. The Naglfar has taken a beating, but the ship is already healing itself thanks to the dark energies that bind it together. The sailors once again clamber over the rigging, trapped in their endless existence as slaves to the corpse ship.
Once the landing platform is extended, you gesture for Anise and Skoll to leave the ship. Before joining them, you turn to the first mate. He pushes his dreadlocks aside, revealing a disfigured face, his nose and mouth dragged askew by a terrible scar. One eye stares back, the other is an empty hollow.
‘Was good sailing with yer, Cap’n,’ he grins crookedly.
You pat the conch. ‘We will still have need of the ship. Listen for my call.’
The sailor salutes you. ‘You’re our captain now. One of us.’
You glance past his shoulder at the other crewmen, all dutifully watching you with an earnest trust. Their faith in you is almost touching – filling you with an odd sense of pride. Nodding farewell to the assembled crew, you turn and follow the others into the mountain. (Return to the map to continue your journey.)
239
‘It’s something I dabble in from time to time,’ Sylvie shrugs. ‘Just taking what nature provides and enhancing it.’
‘Enhancing it?’ You lean forward with interest. ‘Do you mean magic?’
Sylvie gives your comment a dismissive wave. ‘Bah, if you want to name it so. A few petty runes, a simple incantation or two. I’m not entirely sure my work always has the desired effect, but the charms prove popular to passing tinkers who then sell them onto the towns and villages. In return I get the delicacies I wouldn’t otherwise see. Spices, pastries, honeycomb. I do have something of a sweet tooth, I’m afraid.’
Return to 191 to ask another question, or turn to 207 to end the conversation.
240
For besting Desnar and becoming leader of the bear tribe, your bond with Nanuk’s spirit has strengthened. You have also gained the following special ability:
Pain barrier (mo): Heal yourself for the total passive damage inflicted to a single opponent in the current combat round. (For example, if an opponent was inflicted with bleed and disease, you would be able to heal 3 health – 1+2). This ability can only be used once per combat.
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 721.
241
The guard removes the two of moons from his hand and places it face down on the discard pile. He reaches into the pouch and takes another stone at random. He has now gained the four of stars:
Next, the hooded ghost discards a stone from his own hand and takes another from the bag. A cold, cackling laughter comes from the shadows of his cowl as he studies his new hand.
‘What should I do now?’ whispers the guard. ‘I have a fool’s pair. It might win me the game.’
Will you:
Trade in the one of hearts? 424
Trade in the three of stars? 441
Show your hand? 517
242
Time spent investigating the disturbance means that some of the barrels have not been filled. Once the cart has been loaded up, you count eight filled barrels out of the original twelve.
‘Could have been better,’ grumbles Kirk, wiping his brow. ‘But no matter, some is better than none, eh?’
The team only managed to fill 8 barrels of tar. (Make a note of this on your hero sheet then turn to 315.)
243
As you are about to start up the slope, you spot a glimmer of something from the corner of your eye. Ducking down to avoid being seen, you crawl over to the edge of the cave where rubble covers much of the wall. Half-buried beneath the rock fall is the skeleton of some humanoid creature. You carefully pull away a few of the stones, to reveal their hand – clasped around a large green gemstone.
Evidently, the goblin scavengers must have missed this rare treasure. If you wish to take the flawless emerald simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it doesn’t take up backpack space.
The goblins remain focused on their leader, who is grunting and cursing as he struggles to reach whatever object has caught his eye. You decide to leave them to it – hurrying up the slope and into the tunnel. Turn to 2.
244
You push through the trees, purposefully steering yourself away from the wider trail into the denser woodland. Within minutes you have lost all sense of direction, your way impeded by the thick undergrowth and clawing limbs of the forest. You doubt the wounded inquisitor could find you in these tangled wilds, but your fear urges you onwards, deeper and deeper into the thicket.
You don’t see your attacker until it is too late – a furred body springs agilely from out of the trees, locking onto your back and dragging you to the ground.
You try and swat the creature away, feeling claws dig through your jerkin, lancing you with pain. A muzzle swings into view, fangs flecked with hot spittle.
A wolf. Somehow, you manage to find your feet, despite the weight of the animal. With a cry of exertion, you hurl yourself back against the nearest tree, ramming your attacker. The beast gives a yelping growl, but its claws only dig deeper, its hold on you tightening.
You fall to the forest floor, the wolf dragging you down, its jaws now worrying at your cloak, trying to lock onto something solid. Then a bright arrow of light cuts through the air, exploding next to you in a blinding flash. Suddenly, the weight is gone; a high-pitched whine rends the air.
You turn to see the wolf bolting into the undergrowth, half-running and half-loping – one side of its body a smoking ruin. But the relief of your sudden rescue is short-lived. Painfully you twist back to look upon the inquisitor, his raised fist still glowing with bright magic.
‘Should have left you to the wolves,’ he scowls. ‘But I’ll finish this myself.’
You glimpse shadows at the corners of your vision, flitting between the trees. A trick of the light, perhaps – or just a product of your pain and fear. You ignore them, your attention remaining fixed on the inquisitor. ‘Who gave the order – was it Cardinal Rile?’ You spit out the name accusingly. ‘Did he ask you to do this – to lead us out here, to kill Tarlow and the others?’
‘A perfect plan,’ nods the inquisitor, tugging the dagger from his belt. ‘We weren’t expecting the Wiccan, but that’s all for the better. I’ll make this look like their work, not ours.’ He advances towards you, boots crunching through the sudden silence.
You struggle to your knees, the movement making you dizzy with pain. ‘The inquisition . . . you call yourself holy – protectors of the weak!’ You force back a wave of nausea, half-choking on the bitter bile. ‘I thought . . . you stood for goodness – for purity. And here you are, wanting to kill a prince! Call me a coward, then – a craven. What does that make you, oath breaker?’
Something in your words halts the warrior. His brow furrows, making a V of his punctured scar. ‘The Church still stands for good,’ he mutters. ‘I must do what I was ordered.
’
‘Please, you don’t have to—’
The warrior lunges, looking to grab you with his free hand. Too late, his eyes shift sideways – to the wolves, darting past the trees. Two of them, bigger than the last, spring on top of him in a blur of fur and teeth. Desperately, the warrior twists and spins, trying to stop them gaining leverage, but their heavy bodies are already latched tight to his, dragging him down to the forest floor.
Will you:
Go to the inquisitor’s aid? 330
Use this chance to escape? 231
245
You place the ‘one of crowns’ on the discard pile and pick a new stone from the bag. You have gained the ‘three of crowns’.
You have the following stones:
The monk takes his turn with an almost wearisome air, tossing the stone that he picked back onto the discard pile. You wonder if he’s already got a winning hand or is simply bluffing. It is now your move.
Will you:
Play your current hand? 593
Discard the one of snakes? 762
Discard the four of hearts? 628
246
You can smell blood and carrion before you even enter the chamber. A giant eagle is ripping at a corpse with its talons, pulling stringy lengths of meat away in its sharp beak. The creature bristles with surprise as you enter, its head flicking back, tilting quickly from side to side.
It stands its ground, wings flapping golden feathers through the air as it emits a guttural series of screeches and hacking squeals. A clear warning.
Skoll’s eyes are wide, moving from the mangled corpse to the bird and back again. The rumbling from his stomach betrays the course of his thoughts – you wonder if it is the bird or the meaty corpse that holds the most appeal.
Then you notice the saddle and harness, piled in the corner. And next to them, a backpack.
You glance around cautiously, reminding yourself of the layout of the chamber. It is small, more of a natural cave than the carved, angular halls that comprise most of the mountain. An opening to the east leads out onto a short ledge, then the empty blackness of the rift. The chill, cold wind blasts at you from the dark, filling your ears with its keening cry.
At the opposite end of the chamber, behind the eagle, is a slope of rock angling around the edge of the cave to a doorway above. It is there you see the light, shining white and solid around a shadowed figure.
‘What is it, Gwen? Found something to feast on at last?’
The figure strides confidently into the chamber. A short man, his build muscular and hard. A white cloak hangs off his broad shoulders, flapping around black boots spattered with mud. He stops when he sees you.
‘Gwen, you’ve got yourself a pair of admirers.’
‘Who are you?’ rumbles Skoll, his hunger making him short on manners.
The man resumes his descent of the slope, his eyes darting between you and the Skard. The light hangs like an aura around him. It isn’t until he gets closer that you realise it is coming from his skin: hundreds of jagged lines glowing across his face and shaven scalp – and the flesh exposed between his gloves and the sleeves of his ermine jacket. The light gives off an angry heat, one you find both oppressive and daunting . . .
Just like the sword my father gave me, you remind yourself. Holy magic.
‘You’re a paladin.’ The word is spat like poison from your lips.
The man puts a hand to the hilt of his scabbarded sword. ‘Yes.’
His cold, grey eyes are the mirror of the eagle’s, now standing silent and watchful as it ruffles its feathers. ‘My name is Maune – and I am a paladin of the seventh circle. You speak of my calling as you might an enemy; someone who has caused you ill. I am only your enemy if you give me reason to be.’ He gives Skoll a sharp look. ‘I am a holy man. A devout servant of the One God.’
Skoll is fingering his axe. You can tell he is weighing up his options. Food and water dominate his thoughts, not sharing pleasantries. You shift your attention to the man’s pile of belongings. A number of canteens are strapped to the outside of his pack. No doubt he also has food stashed inside.
Will you:
Ask Maune why he is here? 97
Ask about the markings on his skin? 367
Ask for food and water? (ends the conversation) 433
Attack the paladin? (ends the conversation) 486
247
Wishing to avoid a confrontation with the hunter, you hurry deeper into the cave. The opposite tunnel forms a twisting pathway, at times only wide enough for you to squeeze through sideways. After much pushing and scraping, you find yourself stumbling into a tight circular chamber, small enough to touch both walls from its centre. You have reached a dead end – but the shaft is less than twenty metres high, and at its summit you can see daylight, filtering between a mesh-like structure. Against the brightness of the sky, it is difficult to tell what is causing it.
Back along the tunnel you hear grunting and the scuff of boots. The hunter is still after you.
Will you:
Attempt to climb the shaft ? 39
Wait and attack the hunter? 402
248
You manage to hold your position, the treacherous edge drawing further and further away. With your attention still locked on your fellow racer, you almost fail to spot another of your competitors sweeping in ahead you. It is a dark-skinned woman with long snow-white hair billowing from beneath her spiked helm. With one hand on the grip of her sledge, she leans back to flip open the lid of a basket.
‘Your funeral, pal!’ The racer you were tussling with suddenly swerves away – just as the woman pushes over the basket, scattering its contents wide over the snow and ice. The black shards of metal are plain to see, their barbed points threatening to lame your dogs and ruin your sled.
To navigate through the caltrops, you will need to take a challenge test using your speed racing attribute:
Speed
Caltrop chaos 12
If you are successful, turn to 179. Otherwise, turn to 647.
249
‘A witchfinder? Gosh no!’ You are astonished the woman would even consider you a member of their order – a group of feared swordsmen, renowned for their bloodthirsty methods of bringing witches and other sinners to justice.
‘Please,’ you beg, determined now to press your advantage. ‘You can take the sword – it’s yours. Inscribed by a White Abbot. It’ll fetch a good sum of money – and the diamond too. Please, just some food and shelter – please?’ Hearing your own desperation shames you. Lowering your eyes, you let your shoulders slump.
Stupid fool. This sword could buy this whole damn cabin – a thousand cabins. And I offer it willingly for some supper and a blanket . . .
The woman gives a chuckle. ‘Indeed, how could I resist such a generous offer?’
You glare back sullenly, wondering if she mocks you. But her beaming smile seems genuine enough. ‘I am Sylvie and this – as you have already seen – is my humble abode.’ She crosses to the table, pushing empty plant pots aside to make room for her basket. ‘Your sword,’ she states, meeting your gaze. ‘Will you take it out of my home? Just leave it on the doorstep, if you would.’
You nod quickly, unstrapping the scabbard from your belt and placing it outside the door. When you return, Sylvie has removed the blanket from her basket, revealing freshly-picked mushrooms.
‘Here, take a seat.’ The woman pulls out a chair, then quickly removes the spiked plant that had been left there. ‘Unless you’d rather change first. Those clothes must be wet through, you’ll catch your death.’ She nods to the side-room. ‘I have some old clothes . . .’
‘I’d rather eat,’ you smile ruefully, eyes fixed on the pot heating next to the fire.
‘Dinner it is, then.’ Sylvie pulls back her hood and removes her coat, hanging it next to the fireplace. She then proceeds to busy herself by taking mushrooms from out of the basket and chopping them to add to the stew. Turn to 191.
250
Resting inside the jaws of a giant skull, you find a man huddled in fur blankets. You hurry over, believing him to be still alive. It isn’t until you kneel beside him, noticing the vacant eye sockets and half-missing nose, that you realise the man is dead. A coating of opaque ice covers most of his body, preserving much of his flesh and clothing.
A silver hipflask is clutched in one of his gloved hands. You manage to break it free, turning it round to discover a small inscription near its base. It reads: Bullet. Aim true and stay lucky. You realise this must be the trapper that ‘Jitters’ Jackson told you about. (Replace the keyword tracker with the word hunted.)
If you are a rogue, turn to 547. Otherwise, return to the quest map to continue your adventure.
251
There are cheers from the nearby soldiers as your weapons slice through the mage’s robes. For a moment you glimpse the creature’s face beneath the hood – a snake-like visage, decayed and scabrous as if plagued by some disease. Then the body crumples to the ground, the once animated stones pattering down around it.
If you are a warrior or rogue, turn to 90. If you are a mage, turn to 346.
252
Before the spirit fades, you reach out and take the medallion. The chain is cold to the touch, its gold and ivory disc displaying an insignia of a griffon, carved in high relief.
‘Leave it behind,’ insists Anise, still grimacing with disgust. ‘I’m not about to trust anything in this tower.’
You lift up the chain, letting the medallion spin back and forth, catching the light from the torch. (If you wish to wear Mott’s medallion, simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it does not take up an item/backpack space). Then turn to 195.
253
You hand over the invitation for inspection. (Remove the party invitation from your hero sheet.) The guardsman nods then moves aside, pocketing the invitation. You pass through the doorway into a short corridor that opens out into a lavish room. It is full of smoke and chatter, and finely-dressed men and women.
The Eye of Winter's Fury Page 23