Legion of Shadow

by Michael J. Ward

  ‘You fool, Mathis!’ barks Avian, his voice echoing in the chamber. ‘We needed to study it – to understand why it was being guarded. I fear this was a grave mistake . . .’ Turn to 866.

  812

  With a shriek of anguish, the angel flickers and is gone. Wearily, you drop to your knees, exhausted from the energy-sapping encounter.

  ‘I thought the angels would be on our side,’ you pant.

  When you look up, you see that Arthurian is watching you with interest. He looks about to say something, but catches himself. Instead, he turns to face the doorway at the other side of the room.

  ‘Yes. We are close. Come, the place I seek is just past the next chamber.’

  Stumbling to your feet, you cast a last wary glance at the shattered circle of magic, before following him through the doorway. Turn to 787.

  813

  (Make a note of the word rival on your hero sheet.)

  Overcome by a dark frenzy, you throw aside your weapons and turn to the statue. Black fire blazes in your hands as you grab the stone and rip it free from the plinth. As the remaining ghasts scramble towards you, hissing with rage, you swing the statue like a giant club, smashing their screaming bodies across the square.

  The weight and momentum of your swing spins you around, throwing you face-to-face with the final ghast. Its lips pull back to emit a piercing shriek, blasting you with its noxious breath. Balking in disgust, you kick the creature away, then bring the remains of the crumbling statue down on top of it, smashing it to pieces. ‘Now you’re history,’ you grimace, kicking away the statue’s goo-stained head.

  Congratulations! The ghasts have been defeated. You may help yourself to one of the following rewards:

  Drape of shadow

  Scissor hands

  Lexicon of bones

  (cloak)

  (gloves)

  (left hand: spell book)

  +2 speed +4 brawn

  +1 speed +4 brawn

  +2 speed +5 magic

  Ability: chill touch

  Ability: piercing

  Ability: haunt

  (requirement: mage)

  When you have made your decision, turn to 863.

  814

  The newly-absorbed magic twists beneath your skin, winding its way past muscle and sinew. When it reaches your heart, you feel its icy coils tighten . . . extinguishing the warmth and light of the dryad queen’s enchantment. In its place there is now something darker – something borne of that same magic, but corrupted somehow to serve a more wicked purpose.

  If you choose to accept this new power, the shadow ranger has the following abilities:

  Black rain (co): (requires a bow in the left hand.) Instead of rolling for a damage score after winning a round, you can use black rain to shower your enemies with dark magic. Roll 1 damage die and apply the result to each of your opponents, ignoring their armour. You can only use black rain once per combat.

  Thorn fist (co): When your opponent’s damage score causes health damage, you can immediately retaliate using your thorn fist, inflicting 2 damage dice back to them, ignoring armour. You can only use thorn fist once per combat.

  Once you have made your decision, turn to 834.

  815

  ‘Yes, my special deals. Well let’s take a look . . .’ he reaches inside the chest and produces three items, which he lays out on the ash-covered ground. ‘For you, 450 gold crowns. I can’t say fairer than that.’

  You may purchase any of the following items for 450 gold crowns each:

  Barbarous boots

  Khana’s revenge

  Valiant spaulders

  (feet)

  (ring)

  (cloak)

  +2 speed +3 brawn

  +2 brawn

  +2 speed +2 brawn

  Ability: savagery

  Ability: bleed

  Ability: overpower

  After you have made your decision, you can ask to see Waldo’s rare items (turn to 803) or bid the trader farewell (turn to 789)

  816

  The robber rushes forward, looking to stab you in the chest. You lean to the side, shouldering into him as he oversteps his lunge. The man stumbles away, his wildly-tilting lantern casting whirling ribbons of light around the chamber.

  ‘You can’t kill me,’ he snarls, righting his balance. ‘I can’t die.’

  ‘Me neither,’ you add dryly. You turn your arm, to allow him a glimpse of your shadow mark.

  The man gasps, drawing back. ‘No, no it can’t be. You mock me! You mock me!’

  With a shriek he charges once again, his jewelled dagger flashing in the lantern light. You must now fight:

  Special abilities

  Keen edge: If the robber rolls aorfor their damage score, they can add 4 to the result.

  If you defeat the tomb robber, turn to 888. If you are defeated, turn to 796.

  817

  Legendary monster: Gorgis Iron-mane

  The crypt has become your hunting ground. Stepping over the bodies of the black-robed necromancers, you plunge onwards – the cold fire from your shadow mark illuminating the narrow, claustrophobic passageways. Ahead you can hear chanting, echoing from the dark.

  More of Zul’s followers.

  Your hands clench around your weapons, sending magic sparking along the runes that writhe and twist along your arm. Your senses are heightened, your body pulses with shadow energy. All fear has gone – replaced now by a hungry, insatiable need to find more victims.

  You are not disappointed.

  As the next chamber opens up, you see seven necromancers gathered in a tight circle around an open tomb. Black magic pours from their fingers into the exposed body of a knight, seeking to put life back into its rust-spattered armour.

  Then your attention shifts.

  From the edge of the room, four black figures detach themselves from the shadows and start towards you. They appear to be assassins, their faces hidden behind black masks. There is the ring of steel as curved blades are drawn, catching the eerie purple light flickering along your branded flesh.

  The nearest assassin slows, as if uncertain. You glance down at the shadow mark and then look up smiling.

  ‘You wonder if I am a friend or a foe?’ you nod wryly.

  The four masked assassins share a sideways glance.

  ‘Or perhaps it is fear that stays your attack?’

  You raise your weapons, the cold fury of the mark coursing through your body, thumping in your ears, crying out for release . . .

  ‘And so you should fear me!’

  You spring forward, meeting the leader head on. Your weapons clash, teeth gritted, as you both strain against each other’s murderous intent. You can hear his ragged breathing from behind the polished mask . . . then you are moving, twisting and turning in a dreadful dance.

  Steel sparks.

  Magic crackles.

  There are cries and screams – a body flies back through the air, crumpling to the ground. You jerk backwards, as a poisoned blade slices the air next to your face. Leaning to the side, you meet the next attack with the guard of your weapon. Then your magic flares once again, your weapons sweeping around in a deadly arc.

  It is over in seconds. The assassins’ smoking bodies lie around you, broken and lifeless.

  The chanting stops and a heavy silence settles over the chamber.

  As one, the necromancers turn to face you.

  ‘Betrayer! The legion will not be stopped!’

  Your eyes settle on the speaker – possibly the leader. His hand is already pulling a dagger from his belt. The others form up around him, readying spells.

  There is a quiet calmness to their movements, almost an overconfidence. They have strength in numbers, yes. But they should never underestimate a Nevarin.

  Magic is thrown towards you – sizzling through the air – but you are already moving, dizzyingly fast, leaving their futile barrage to smash harmlessly into the stone flagstones. Then you are cutting, slicing, burning, sta
bbing . . . you have lost yourself to whatever nightmarish fury lies in that branded mark, that part of yourself that connects you to a past now long forgotten.

  There are snarls from the dark.

  As the last necromancer falls before you, your eyes settle on the archway at the far side of the chamber. Ragged shapes are now pouring out of the darkness – running on all fours like hounds. You glimpse knife-like claws and shaggy, black manes of fur.

  Ghouls.

  The baying creatures surge towards you, snapping and biting. You somersault over the first wave of attackers, landing agilely behind them. Surrounded on all sides by the undead host, you fall into a spin of whirling steel and magic . . . your movements flowing from one form to the next.

  Bodies press against your own, the air humming with snapping jaws and clawing talons. Steadily, you force them back, your weapons sweeping into a familiar rhythm – rising and falling, blocking and parrying.

  Within minutes you stand alone. Your arms are slick with ghoul blood . . . and maybe some of your own. You look down to see a knife sticking out of your thigh. You wonder how it got there . . . and why it doesn’t cause you pain.

  Then a rumbling growl snaps you back to attention.

  From beneath the archway, a gigantic ghoul is shuffling towards you. Its mane is thick and grey, spreading out across its massive shoulders and tightly-knotted arms.

  Your eyes meet and in that quiet moment something is shared.

  Then the beast’s face twists into a snarl. You answer in kind, emitting an animal-like roar. Then you pounce:

  Special abilities

  Fatigue: You are exhausted from your previous battles. You must reduce your brawn and magic by 2 in this combat.

  Piercing: This powerful creature’s claws ignore your armour.

  Iron-mane: The ghoul’s hide is covered in a thick mantle of ironlike hair. You cannot use piercing or impale in this combat.

  If you manage to defeat this savage foe, turn to 297.

  818

  As you approach the anomaly, your shadow mark starts to burn. You tug back your clothing to expose the branded serpents. Their purple runes are pulsing with their own dark life, mirroring the rhythmic beating coming from the strange growth.

  ‘Do not go near it!’ cries Lansbury. ‘It will kill you!’

  You glance over your shoulder. ‘It doesn’t look that dangerous . . .’

  Suddenly, you hear a sickening series of squelches. The growth has started to move, its long tendrils of rotted fungus ripping themselves free from the crumbling stone.

  ‘Oh, that’s not good,’ cries Nyms. ‘That’s really not good.’

  From the creature’s mould-encrusted centre, a noxious steam escapes into the air, reeking of death and decay.

  You raise your arm, covering your face from the eye-watering stench. As you do so, an agonising wail fills the room. In horror, you realise it is coming from the anomaly. It is trying to draw away from you, its bloated fungal body seeking to drag itself across the stone wall.

  You glance over at your arm and the shadow mark that is burning with an intense heat, sending dark smoke curling up into the earthen chamber. Your eyes flick back to the anomaly. A sudden hunger, a longing for its power, overwhelms your senses. You take a step forward, arm outstretched, to try and absorb the magic.

  The air ripples as some invisible force grips the anomaly and attempts to drag it towards your mark. In a desperate effort to defend itself, the anomaly sends thrashing tentacles whipping out through the air, seeking to knock you away:

  Special abilities

  Absorption: You cannot harm this magical foe. If you win a combat round, roll one die. If you roll aor greater then the anomaly’s magic is reduced by 4. Once the anomaly’s magic is reduced to zero then it has been successfully absorbed into the shadow mark.

  Concentration: You cannot use potions or special abilities in this combat.

  If you defeat the magic anomaly, turn to 922. If you are defeated, turn to 862.

  819

  ‘It was an experiment,’ nods the mage. ‘And we were the chosen. The black guard.’ He lifts his head proudly, his eyes focusing on something distant, some other place and time. ‘We were the first through the gate. We led the legion – a thousand to our name.’ He blinks, his fingers caressing the scar on his cheek. ‘Daarko built the machine. A genius. A master maker. Better at building than destroying. Always in that tower – the high, high, high tower.’

  ‘So, the elves didn’t create it?’ you ask, surprised.

  ‘It was built from what we found. The salvaged odds and ends from the elves, yes. From the first invasion.’ He purses his lips, looking thoughtful. ‘It could have worked. Zul’s plan. But the mage shield. It blocked us. Wouldn’t bring us here in time. Wouldn’t let us back from the shroud . . .’

  ‘Why not use the shadow gate?’ you shrug.

  Lorcan sneers. ‘Are you not listening to me? We were the first – the first to go to the shroud.’ He waves a hand in an arc through the air. ‘We didn’t even know it was possible. To exist there. The elves . . . the elves did it, dragging their pyramids, their cities through it. Through. . . through. . . but not existing there. Not like us.’ He pauses for a moment, letting the echo of his words reverberate throughout the chamber. Then he continues. ‘The man who speaks. He told me it would fail. That the machine would be broken. Daarko would have waited . . . waited until the city was quiet. Dark of night. Then we would come. But it was broken. Broken.’ He heaves a sigh. ‘I must go back . . . I must.’

  Return to 928 to ask Lorcan another question, or turn to 939 to attack this deranged mage.

  820

  You are thrown against a stone wall, hitting it with force. There is the taste of blood and something wet against your face, as you crumple to the ground, moaning with pain.

  ‘Look!’

  You hear a cry from your left and the sound of booted feet.

  Dizzily, you open your eyes, feeling nauseous as the stone chamber spins around you in a blur of colour.

  ‘They’re bleeding. It looks bad.’

  The voice belongs to Nyms. You feel strong arms about your shoulders, helping to support you as you mumble groggily. ‘Where am I?’

  You feel a cold palm against your forehead. Struggling to focus, you can make out a white shape. Then there is a flash of white light. You flinch away from it, fearful that you are being transported once again. But instead, you feel a comforting warmth flow through your body, taking away the pain and restoring your vision.

  Lansbury straightens, looking down at you with a petulant expression. ‘What happened?’ she asks briskly. ‘One minute you were there and then . . .’ The medic snaps her fingers.

  With Nyms’ help you struggle back to your feet. Caeleb is watching you from the other side of his room, his helm removed and held under his arm. His eyes are narrowed, his expression one of distrust. ‘We deserve an explanation,’ he adds sternly. ‘We were about to leave you here.’

  You glance over, to see that the anomaly has drifted away to the other side of the room, its sparkling sheen barely visible in the pale light from Lansbury’s staff.

  ‘I think I moved back in time . . . to the past . . . Wait!’ Your attention immediately shifts to the skeleton of the tomb robber, still lying sprawled amongst the dust and cobwebs.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ You frown, walking over and kneeling beside the skeleton. ‘Why hasn’t this changed? ’ You look up at Lansbury, begging for an explanation. ‘I absorbed the magic. He was a Nevarin.’

  The medic shrugs her shoulders. ‘Time is a complex weave – it is not a single thread but many. If your story is true, your meddling may have changed one aspect, altered a single thread, maybe others, but the weave will still follow its course.’

  Nyms blows out his cheeks. ‘I think I preferred it when I was just hitting things. Can we do that again, please?’ Spinning his blades, he follows Caeleb out of the chamber.

  You get back t
o your feet, still frowning. ‘I wonder why he was here – what he was looking for.’

  ‘We rarely get the answers we seek,’ sighs the medic, prodding the skeleton with the end of her staff. ‘Even less so from the dead.’

  Nodding, you give the skeleton a final cursory glance before leaving the room. Turn to 902.

  821

  You kick off from the rooftop, spinning and twisting over the glittering sea of bodies, firing bolts of black fire into their ranks. As bodies are blown aside in a rising crescendo of shrieks and snarls, you come to a perfect landing in front of Avian’s shield. The creatures surrounding him pay you no mind – their black chitinous bodies a chaotic mishmash of scorpion and spider. Curved, barbed tails pummel against the glowing shield, whilst their giant mandibles spit sizzling globules of venom over its surface, attempting to burn their way through.

  ‘No, you must run!’ gasps Avian, his eyes going wide. ‘There’s too many of them!’

  With a snarl of fury, you dive into the creatures’ midst, hoping to buy time until aid can arrive. You must fight:

  Special abilities

  A siege of scarrons: At the end of each combat round, each surviving scarron inflicts 5 damage to Avian’s shield.

  At the start of each round, choose the scarron you will be attacking. If you win, you can roll for damage against that scarron (or multiple scarrons, if you have an ability that lets you do so). If you lose the round, then your chosen scarron will strike back as a single opponent.

  If you manage to survive to the start of the seventh combat round, with Avian’s shield still intact (i.e. it still has health), then turn to 785. (Special achievement: If you defeat all the scarrons before the end of the sixth combat round, then turn to 868). If you are defeated, then you may return to an earlier point. Restore your health, then turn to 885.