You are left lying in the dirt.
Walk or die.
A simple rule. And one that seems fitting to these solemn, predatory hunters.
You stumble to your feet, feeling no pain from your numerous wounds, only a discomfort each time you move. But you are still alive – and it seems, for now, the Skards are content for you to join them. After retrieving your weapons, you hurry as best you can to catch up. Turn to 698.
657
Searching through the wreckage, you find one of the following items:
Desecrated earth Double cross Web of lies
(talisman) (necklace) (chest)
+1 speed +5 health +1 speed +1 armour +2 speed +2 magic
Ability: decay Ability: trickster Ability: webbed
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 755.
658
Weapons are soon forgotten, giving way to fists and spectral claws – slashing, punching, cutting. Black blood covers you both head-to-toe as you tumble across the ground, locked together like savage pit bulls. One of Sable’s claws drives into your side, parting the flesh and ripping through dead and useless organs. You try and struggle free but the prince now sits astride your chest, towering above you. His single eye is feverishly bright, glowing with victory.
He smiles, opening his mouth to say something.
But the words become a gurgling gasp as the point of a sword pushes its way between his teeth. His wolfish eye widens, then rolls back into his head . . . blood gushes over his chin, then he slumps forward.
Anise stands over him, the hilt of the sword gripped in her white-knuckled hands. She steps away from the corpse, too exhausted to withdraw the weapon. She leaves the blade protruding from the back of the prince’s head.
You push the body away, grimacing as you attempt to move your cut and ragged limbs. Nanuk’s magic attends to the worst of the wounds, knitting the broken bones and dead flesh back together again, but most of your body is beyond redemption. A ruined husk. You touch your face, feeling the pulpy wetness along one cheek, the sagging flesh hanging loose from below your ear . . . Your hand probes a little higher. No ear. Torn loose.
Anise turns away, half-stumbling and half-falling into Skoll’s arms. The Skard looks down at you, his grim-set features saying everything words cannot.
Slowly, sluggishly, you get to your feet, relieved that your legs are still strong enough to support you. Searching the prince’s body, you find 50 gold crowns and one of the following rewards:
Warg crown Dark fall Sable’s shadows
(head) (chest) (feet)
+2 speed +2 armour +2 speed +2 magic +2 speed +2 brawn
Ability: barbs Ability: blind Ability: rebound
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 720.
659
A wooden pier hugs the rocky shoreline, where a variety of different-sized ships lie at anchor. The most impressive looking are the whaling vessels, their immense prows plated with huge iron sheets engraved with runes. You assume these ‘icebreakers’ are used to cut through the ice as the ships make their way north. Beside them, almost like gnats in comparison, are a couple of flamboyant merchant ships and what you assume may be pirate schooners. Between them, the grey waters of the ocean are flecked with floating islands of ice, thumping and cracking against the ships’ hulls.
Two buildings dominate the pier. One is a warehouse, or what remains of one. It has been built of wood, but part of a wall and an entire section of the roof have gone. Makeshift awnings of leather have been erected to keep dry what little stock remains. Two guards keep a wary eye on passers-by, while inside you see a short man in a thick moleskin coat grading a batch of furs.
Next to it is a more robust stone building, extending out from the sheer dark cliff. Light dances from its arched glass windows, where shifting shadows suggest a busy crowd. An oval shaped boat is netted to one wall. Next to it, a sign reads ‘The Coracle’.
Will you:
Talk to the warehouse clerk? 104
Enter ‘The Coracle’? 80
Head back along accident alley? 27
660
Anise trails behind you, swaddled in her cloak. Since leaving the mountain she has said little to anyone. You wonder if Maune’s death still plays on her mind – as it does yours. When pressed she has not given voice to any dissent; nor has she complained or questioned your decisions. Instead it seems Anise has drawn inwards, becoming silent and melancholy, favouring her own thoughts for company. You cannot blame her – what she has endured since the fall of Bitter Keep, battling weakness and starvation, the enormity of the task you all face . . . You wonder if it is still love or something else that drives her onwards. Perhaps it’s the realisation that there is no longer a choice – if the witch’s plan is not thwarted, there will be nothing left to go back to; nothing worth saving.
At what cost, Anise? If we win, at what cost . . . ?
You watch her with an aching heart. Longing for it all to have turned out differently. With the paladin’s supplies running low, you fear Anise is only headed for her own death.
‘No!’
You jerk round, to see Skoll standing atop the ridge. The burly warrior stumbles back from the buffeting gale, shielding his eyes as he stares ahead at something you cannot see.
Keep it together. You force your numb limbs into action, stumbling and crawling over the last of the rocky scree, the wind growing stronger the higher you climb. Turn to 228.
661
The corridor ends at a T-junction. To your left, where a blood-spattered sign reads ‘security wing’, you see a metal door blocking the passage. Two burly-looking guards are leaning against it, armed with crowbars. You decide to avoid a confrontation and head right instead, finding yourself in a large room.
This appears to have once been a medical wing. Light spills through the barred windows to illuminate the twisted remains of beds, torn sheets and broken containers. Glass and wood crack underfoot as you cross the room and pass through an opened door. Beyond, a set of stairs take you down into what may have been a storeroom. It is now empty, save for some shattered trunks along one wall, the remains of a fire and some empty bottles.
If you have Judah’s Book of Canticles, turn to 579. Otherwise, you find nothing of interest here. You retrace your steps and leave the prison. Turn to 426.
662
The tattoos are arranged to suggest some sort of code or message. On one side of a patterned scroll days of the week have been written in a neat row, and next to each day there is a symbol. You crane your neck to view the design:
Sol – cross
Ullir – star
Dilain – heart
Woden – snow flake
Jove – mountain
Unfortunately, the man shifts in his sleep, settling himself into a position that obscures the rest of his tattoo. Nevertheless, you wonder if the information you have gleaned might prove useful later.
Will you:
Approach the cellar? 724
Leave and return to the taproom? 80
663
You remove the skeletal hand from your backpack, gripping it tightly as it attempts to break free. With effort, you force the grisly appendage into the hollow, pushing it against the handprint depression. You hear the clink of the poisoned fangs hitting the bone, trying to stab and bite their way into the hand – but you maintain your grip, pushing it harder into the space.
You hear a hiss and then a creak from behind you. Looking back over your shoulder, you watch as the thorny bars of the cell retract back into the ceiling. The branches around the Skard warrior are also retreating, leaving him to drop to his knees, gasping for air.
Leaving the hand inside the hollow (you may remove clackers from your hero sheet), you hurry to the man’s side. As you crouch next to him, you notice that the dagger has vanished – evidently an illusion to torment the warrior.
‘Did . . . did Skoll send you?’ he gasps, rubbing at the scratches around his neck.
You frown, shaking your head. ‘I’m here to rescue him – who are you?’
The warrior explains that his name is Leif, an einherjar who shared Skoll’s gift for spirit-walking. Leif accompanied his great leader into the Norr, to help him find the means of defeating the witch – but they were both captured.
‘I have been here for an eternity,’ he sighs. His wearied gaze takes in the confines of his cell. ‘Every minute, every second – I have wished for revenge. This place is her work. The witch.’ He reaches for the horn hanging at his waist. ‘I will lend you my strength. For we must climb – to the very top of the tree.’
Leif agrees to accompany you on your mission. For the remainder of this quest, you benefit from the following ability:
Leif’s song (mo): Leif can blow his ancient horn to boost your powers in combat. You may use this ability any time in combat to raise your brawn or magic by 4 for one combat round. Leif ’s song may only be used once per combat.
Together, you follow the passageway as it continues to ascend through the tree trunk. Turn to 6.
664
You come awake in Anise’s arms, shuddering as the life returns to your dead body. Gradually, the cave blurs into focus – then Anise’s gaunt face sharpens into view. Tears are rolling down her cheeks.
‘The others. I heard fighting,’ she says, in a tight voice.
You both struggle to your feet, using each other as support as you head up the slope. From deeper in the mountain you can hear cries and the crackle of magic. As strength returns to your limbs you pick up the pace, the trail of blood teasing you down dark passageways.
When you finally emerge in a pillared hall, you find Skoll and Maune fighting a monstrous creation – a gigantic golem, fashioned from the body parts of various creatures. Its most recent addition appears to be the paladin’s eagle, its severed head now sitting atop a brawny pair of shoulders.
Thankfully, the pair have the upper hand; the paladin’s magic and the Skard’s axe are making short work of the abomination, lopping off its bloodied limbs and appendages until all that is left is a grisly pile of body parts. Turn to 733.
665
For defeating the ancient wind demon, you may now choose one of the following rewards:
Tumult Spin cycle Quel’s daggers
(main hand: axe) (left hand: shield) (necklace)
+2 speed +2 brawn +2 speed +2 armour +1 speed +1 brawn
Ability: frenzy Ability: roll with it Ability: bleed
The demon’s heart still pulses with elemental energy. If you wish to absorb the demon’s magic, you may learn the storm carl career.
The storm carl has the following special abilities:
Hurricane rush (co): Give into your fury and become a reckless whirlwind of death! This ability inflicts 2 damage dice to each opponent ignoring armour (roll separately for each), but for every opponent you hit you must take 1 damage in return, ignoring armour. You can only use this ability once per combat.
Spin shot (co): This ability inflicts 2 damage dice to your opponent ignoring armour – plus 1 extra die for every speed point difference you have over your opponent in this round. (If your hero has a speed of 7 and your opponent has a speed of 5, you would roll 4 damage dice in total.) You can only use this ability once per combat.
When you have made your decision, return to the quest map to continue your adventure.
666
Unable to stop yourself, you charge up the steps and make a wild swing for the cardinal. Your blow should have cut him down in seconds. Instead your weapons grate across the hard, spiny flesh of a demon. The cardinal has assumed his true form, a reptilian giant coated in a thick mantle of crimson scales. Your hatred turns to fear as you prepare to take on this demon in combat. It is time to fight:
Speed Magic Armour Health
Cardinal 10 7 8 60
Special abilities
Reflect damage: Each time your damage score/damage dice cause health damage to Rile, you must take the half the damage you have inflicted (rounding up) as damage to your own hero, ignoring armour. (If Rile loses 14 health, you would lose 7.)
Dark hate: You must take 2 damage at the end of every combat round, ignoring armour, from the cardinal’s deathly aura.
If you manage to defeat this devilish trickster, turn to 774. If you are defeated, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet, then turn to 621.
667
Raising your hands you trace the circular patterns with your fingers, connecting the lines and whorls with the magic that now flows through you. The runes start to flicker and then glow, illuminating a trail to the centre circle, where blue-black energies crackle above the podium. For a brief moment you glimpse some creature trapped within the bright maelstrom – a spinning tornado of dust and rock, with two crimson jewels for eyes – then it is gone. The energy sparks out and the runes dim.
When you walk over to the podium you discover that the elemental is now trapped inside the orb, filling it with a powerful magic. (Congratulations! You have now created a tremor orb. If you wish to take this, simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space.) Turn to 684.
668
You are pitched forward, flailing through a shower of ash to slam into a cracked stone pillar. The pain is relished, like an old companion. A reminder that you have left your dead body behind.
You draw your weapons, your body twisting round to scan the bleak nightmarish landscape of the Norr.
A circle of stones mark the edge of a mountain pinnacle. Beyond them there is nothing but cloud, streaking past at a vertiginous speed, a single crimson sun caught on their currents. It blurs overhead, speeding through a repeated arc, its garish light casting blood-soaked shadows across the carved circle.
So, this is where it ends . . .
A growl rumbles from the shifting darkness. The bear edges into view, circling warily. You sense his confusion. His questioning.
Your eyes lock with his own, glistening amber and then red in the flickering light. You try and speak but the words choke you. A pain presses against your chest, weighing heavy on your heart.
Love. Regret.
‘You gave me life . . . old friend.’
Dirt crunches beneath your boot-heels as you follow the bear, the two of you moving inexorably around the circle like the hands of a clock.
The bear lowers his head, snuffling at the ground, emitting a regretful whine.
‘You know it has to end this way. You know what’s at stake.’
Every word pulls at your soul, cutting like razors. ‘It’s the only way, Nanuk. I need your magic. My body is gone, broken. It is time, old friend.’
Silence, save for the whistling of the wind filling your nostrils with its death.
The bear stops. You stop. Both stand rigid, facing one another.
‘I’m sorry. Please understand—’
Snarling.
The bear launches itself forward; an explosion of fur and teeth, and claws that are suddenly a blur, leaving glimmering trails in their wake. All regret, all pain is gone in those few seconds – your mind snaps taut, as does your body, weapons spinning and blocking the bear’s frenzied assault. A last battle together, a last glorious moment to be shared, remembered . . . It is time to fight:
Speed Magic Armour Health
Nanuk 13 9 8 80
Special abilities
Basic instinct: Nanuk rolls two dice to determine his damage score.
Spirit link: At the end of each round, roll a die. If the result is or less, you must lose 4 health and Nanuk gains 4 health. (Note: this cannot take Nanuk past his starting health of 80.)
If you manage to defeat the ancestor spirit, turn to 51.
669
Every thread a life. Every thread a hope. The woman’s pale eyes flick across the coruscating cords of light. The twining. The pattern of all existence. The course of fate.
You pull an incredulous frown as you look down at the thread you are balanced upon, try
ing to imagine how this thin web-like strand could possibly represent a life. You follow it as it sweeps underneath you, spiralling around past other strands, intersecting, knotting together, twisting into thicker cords as several flow together.
This was once order. A destiny assigned to every being. Gabriel wove the plan, the great work. I only spin the thread, but he would decide its destiny, the length of life and day of death. Destiny could not be changed.
The woman scratches at her head again, leaving ugly welts where her nails have broken the raw skin. Only discord now. Only discord. Do you not hear it? The weave should play a symphony. It should all meet the plan. But now. It grates, it bores, it tears at me. She closes her eyes, nails raking back and forth as if trying to prise her very head open. All her fault. All her fault!
(Return to 713 to ask another question or turn to 760 to end the conversation.)
670
(If you have already entered the tournament, turn to 341. If you have the keyword underdog on your hero sheet, turn to 192.)
‘Ah good, good!’ The man beckons you over. ‘You’ll need a sled and the entry fee, ten gold crowns, then I can register you and make it all official-like.’
‘What’s the prize?’ you ask, scanning the list of names on the chart. You note there are already twenty-nine other racers signed up for the competition.
‘Best prize ever,’ grins the man, his ratty face leaning closer. ‘The money’s all well and good, three hundred gold ones, but that don’t outshine the Winter Diamond. Bigger than my hand, it is – and perfectly flawless too. So they say, ’cos I never actually seen it. But Ryker’s got it under close wraps up in that fortress of ’is. Only way you’re gonna swag the prize is by winning the races.’
If you have a sled and 10 gold crowns, you may enter the tournament (turn to 329.) Otherwise, turn to 106 to explore the rest of the compound.
671
You raise the captain’s conch to your lips and sound a single, trumpeting call. The air above you starts to shimmer and distort, rippling outwards in undulating waves. They spin and swirl, moving around a single pinpoint of light. The brightness steadily widens, drawing itself back into a long tunnel, growing larger, spinning faster and faster – until there is a sudden spray of dazzling light as the corpse ship rolls out of the portal, magic breaking like surf around its dark prow.
The Eye of Winter's Fury Page 57