Legion of Shadow
Page 54
Arthurian turns away, heading for the side passage. ‘You know nothing of what it is like, shadow spawn.’
For a moment, you remain behind, lost in your own troubled thoughts. It is only when you see a flash of light down the passageway, and hear a raised cry of alarm, that you draw your weapons and hurry after your companion. Turn to 804.
841
You join Nyms at the foot of the stairs, leading up to the building. The swordsman has skilfully despatched the necromancers – but is now confronted by a new obstacle. The pillars either side of the entranceway are glowing with a purple light, casting a flickering barrier across the doorway.
‘Perhaps the front door wasn’t the best choice after all,’ says Nyms, warily approaching the magic wall. ‘The necros did it. Any ideas?’
Lansbury shoulders past you, her staff raised. ‘They have tried to reweave the magic that once protected this place. It is weak . . .’ The tip of her staff glows briefly as she utters a simple arcane command. A second later and the barrier has disappeared, the light of the runes dimming and then winking out entirely. ‘Amateurs,’ sniffs the medic.
‘Nice work, Lans.’ Nyms nudges you and gestures towards the open doorway. ‘After you . . .’
With a grin, you ready your weapons and enter the building: the tomb of the great hero, Arthurian. Turn to 848.
842
You enter a vast high-domed chamber. At the centre of the room is a stepped dais, leading up to a stone tomb. The lid has been smashed open, its shattered stonework lying in jagged pieces around the base of the dais.
‘Oh, this doesn’t look good,’ mutters Nyms, his swords spinning nervously in his hands.
Hovering above the open tomb is a man in rune-plate armour. He hangs suspended in the air, teeth gritted with determination as he struggles against a magical assault.
‘Arthurian!’ you gasp.
Stood around the undead warrior are four black-robed necromancers. They are chanting arcane words as black streams of magic arc from their fingers, slamming against Arthurian and surrounding him in a whirling frenzy of dark light.
Suddenly, you feel a sharp tingling from your shadow mark.
Something is wrong . . . Quickly you throw yourself aside, as spears of ice rip through the air, shattering against the wall behind you.
‘Interlopers!’
You turn to see a female mage striding towards you, her blue gown coated with rime frost.
‘Well, well . . . a Nevarin and a cavalier. How quaint.’
‘Witch!’ Caeleb springs forward, sword raised to strike. The mage makes no move to dodge his attack. Instead she narrows her wintry-blue eyes, watching as the air shimmers and crackles before her. There is a bright flash followed by a rush of cold air. When you are able to focus again, you see that Caeleb is now encased in ice – frozen in mid-step.
‘No!’ Lansbury summons white flames to her hand and hurls them at the icelock. The blast of magic breaks against an unseen shield, fizzing and sparking as it disperses in the chill air.
‘Is that all you’ve got?’ she hoots with delight.
You look to Nyms, who nods – then the two of you rush forwards, throwing your weapons and magic against the icelock’s shield:
Special abilities
Wrath of winter: Your hero automatically loses 2 health at the end of the first combat round. As the combat continues, this cold damage increases by 1 each round. (Your hero takes 3 damage at the end of the second round, 4 damage at the end of the third and so on.) This ability ignores armour.
Shatter shield: If you win a combat round, instead of rolling for damage you can choose to lower Sammain’s armour by 4. You can do this as many times as you wish, lowering her armour by 4 each time.
If you defeat Sammain, turn to 869. (Special achievement: If you defeat Sammain without lowering her armour, then turn to 874.) If you are defeated, turn to 862.
843
Searching Daarko’s remains, you find a leather pouch containing 100 gold crowns. You may also help yourself to one of the following special rewards:
Shadow-woven kris
Dark slayer vest
The craven’s head
(main hand: dagger)
(chest)
(talisman)
+3 speed +5 brawn
+2 speed +4 brawn
+1 speed +1 brawn
Ability: deep wound
Ability: dominate
Ability: sidestep
When you have made your decision, turn to 811.
844
The air quickly becomes hot and stifling; the tingling from your arm intensifying as you descend into the musty tomb. At the foot of the stairs, you find yourself in a large stone chamber. Most of the ceiling is a crumbling ruin, the dark rock split by thick snaking roots and vines. Dust motes drift lazily through the twilit space, forming a hazy white veil as they swirl before Lansbury’s pale light.
Nyms starts into the room, but Lansbury puts out her staff to stop him. ‘Wait . . .’ Her attention is focused on the far side of the chamber, where something is moving.
You squint, trying to discern what it is. It appears to be a growth of some description, a mould or lichen, covering an entire side of the room. Parts of its rotted form are rising and falling, as if beating with some form of sentient life.
‘Now, let’s assume that isn’t friendly,’ says Nyms, grimacing with revulsion.
‘It’s a magic anomaly,’ whispers Lansbury, glancing at her staff as its light begins to flicker. ‘We should stay well away from it. Learn from those who were less fortunate . . .’ She nods to the paved floor of the chamber, where you notice several fleshy mounds smeared across the stone, punctuated by splintered shards of bone.
‘We don’t have to go near it,’ says Caeleb firmly, pointing his sword in the direction of an archway in the west wall. ‘I suggest we move on from here.’
Will you:
Investigate the magic anomaly? — 818
Leave the room through the archway? — 909
845
(Make a note of the word companion on your hero sheet.)
The creatures are strong – but they are slow. Sidestepping yet another sluggish attack, you turn and hurry back towards the shield, leaping and kicking off from its side to back-flip through the air. The creatures snarl and curse as you sail over their heads, slicing and blasting as you go. Twisting round mid-air, you drop onto the leader’s back, throwing aside your weapons to rip one of its growths free. Black slime geysers from its ruptured body, as you take the pulsating parasite and wrap it around the decayer’s throat. There is a sickening crunch as the rotted head snaps free of its body, rolling away into the dust.
The decayer shakes and convulses, then starts to topple backwards. You leap free at the last moment, ripping another parasite from its back. The unnatural growth is still spewing out spores from its gaping maw, surrounding you in a dense cloud of floating bombs. Your slow-witted foes stumble into them, igniting their own mouldy wrappings and engulfing themselves in flame.
Congratulations! The decayers have been defeated. You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Parasitic plate
Decayer’s wraps
Spore shoulders
(left hand: shield)
(chest)
(cloak)
+2 speed +4 armour
+2 speed +3 brawn
+2 speed +3 armour
Ability: leech
Ability: disease
Ability: spore cloud
(requirement: warrior)
(requirement: mage)
When you have made your decision, turn to 856.
846
You find yourself back in the magic-lit passageway. Eager to return to your companions, you retrace your steps back through the tomb, to the room where you met Arthurian.
To your relief, the magic anomaly is still lurking in a corner of the rough-hewn chamber, its shimmering body reflected in the muddy water. The storm
still vents its fury in the lightning-flecked skies above. Pulling your hood down low over your face, you step through the curtain of drumming rainwater and approach the anomaly.
You are uncertain what will happen. Somehow this anomaly was able to bring you back in time; will it return you to the present day, or will it take you to another time and place? You grit your teeth as you take a step closer . . .
Sure enough, as soon as you move within range of the magical creature, its silken threads snap around you, pulling you at speed towards a brightening white light. Turn to 838.
847
Searching the ogre’s filthy belongings, you find a leather pouch containing 50 gold crowns. You may also help yourself to one of the following special rewards:
Sacrum of carnage
Beast’s backbone
Hulking shoulders
(main hand: fist weapon)
(chest)
(cloak)
+2 speed +5 brawn
+2 speed +4 armour
+2 speed +3 brawn
Ability: fatal blow
Ability: savagery
Ability: barbs
When you have made your decision, turn to 824.
848
You emerge in a high-ceilinged chamber. Torches flicker in sconces along the walls, illuminating a row of statues that stand solemn guard at either side of the room. These life-like sculptures appear to be Tor Knights, clad in full-body plate. Swords and shields rest at their side.
‘Arthurian’s tomb . . .’ Nyms spins on the spot, taking in his surroundings.
You follow your three companions down the sombre hall, towards a large stone door set in the far wall. It stands slightly ajar, leading through to a set of stairs.
‘The necros did a good job of breaking and entering,’ sighs Caeleb, eyeing up the stone door. Its entire surface is covered in spiralling runes and detailed, intricate script work. ‘These doors were warded.’
‘Yes, and they are over a thousand years old,’ states Lansbury matter-of-factly. ‘A child could have broken through these defences. It is nothing to be admired.’ The medic hikes up her robes and starts down the stairs.
‘Mages,’ sighs Nyms. ‘So competitive.’
He starts after Lansbury, with yourself and Caeleb bringing up the rear. Turn to 926.
849
Nyms is a skilled swordsman and more than capable of handling the necromancers. The bone angel, on the other hand . . .
Your shadow mark ignites with a blazing fury as you throw yourself forwards, directly into the path of the beast. With a hellish screech, the bone angel’s talons rake through the air, as sharp and deadly as any blade:
Special abilities
Terrible talons: For eachthat you roll for your hero (either for attack speed or damage), they are caught by the bone angel’s talons and must take 2 damage, ignoring armour. (If you have an ability that lets you re-roll dice, you may use this before determining the result.)
Holy aura: The medic’s holy aura raises your brawn and magic by 2 in this combat.
Caeleb’s shield: Your armour is raised by 2 for the duration of this combat.
If you defeat this infernal monster, turn to 906. If you are defeated, turn to 862.
850
As a mage you may also take the following item:
Bone fetish
(talisman)
+1 armour
Ability: necromancer career (see below)
You must have the bone fetish talisman equipped if you wish to learn the necromancer career. As soon as this item is unequipped or you learn a new career, you lose the abilities associated with this career.
The necromancer has the following abilities:
Shades (pa): At the start of combat, you automatically summon a group of shades to aid you. The shades add 2 to each dice of damage you roll, for the duration of the combat. Once the shades have been summoned, they remain in play until you sacrifice them (see below).
Sacrifice (co): You may use this ability after an opponent has rolled their damage dice/damage score, to instantly sacrifice your shades. The shades absorb all the damage instead and you are unharmed. This destroys your shades instantly.
Once you have made your decision, turn to 883.
851
You raise your weapons defensively. ‘Who is it?’ you call, flinching when you hear the sound of Lorcan’s voice coming from your own lips.
Take the staff, fool.
And ringing inside your head.
‘Shut up,’ you growl between clenched teeth.
The figure steps forward out of the shadows. You had already guessed who it was – from the bulky armour and the lightning flickering across their warhammer. ‘Mathis . . .’
The inquisitor has a mad look about his eyes, his movements sluggish from exhaustion. ‘More Nevarin scum.’ He gives his surroundings a wary once over, his gaze falling on the crumpled clothes that once belonged to Lorcan.
‘Wait!’ You lower your weapons, realising that the inquisitor is no longer seeing your own body, but that of the gaunt mage. ‘It’s me, Mathis. Remember? This is not my body!’
Mathis takes another step forward, bringing his warhammer up across his chest. He shakes his head, almost with regret. ‘You are a demon. And you must be stopped.’
‘But I saved your—’
The inquisitor charges, moving with a speed that belies his heavy armour. You barely have time to block the warrior’s first blow, his second lifting you off your feet and carrying you across the room. You smash through a clay urn, showering the ground with broken pottery.
You stumble to your feet woozily, aware that your wounds are not healing. A quick glance at your shadow mark confirms that its magic is not responding – its usual radiance reduced to a dull glow.
I told you to take the staff.
‘What are you doing?’ you scowl angrily. ‘Are you controlling the mark?’
We have to leave. Leave. Leave. Now!
The inquisitor charges again. You throw yourself aside at the last moment, his warhammer taking a huge gouge out the wall. He swings around, the head of the weapon slamming into your side. You are thrown backwards, tumbling across the broken rubble, your body wracked with pain. Something wet is running down your face. You put a shaking hand to it, surprised when it comes away coated in blood.
‘Heal me,’ you choke, spitting out a broken tooth. ‘Do you want us both to die?’
I told you what to do.
You find your feet again, only to see Mathis closing once more. You tangle together, smashing through wood and glass. His head butts into your own, sending it snapping back. Then his hammer cracks across your ribs, eliciting a strangled cry of pain. By luck rather than design, you stumble back, avoiding his follow-up swing.
The shroud. The place between worlds. We must go! Go!
Lorcan’s voice distracts you. The hammer smashes into your chest, hurling you back across the room. You crash down, spitting dust and blood, your hands grappling over broken rock and pottery. Then you feel something, cold to the touch.
Yes. Yes. Take the staff.
You struggle to raise your head. One eye is closed and it won’t open – the other struggles to focus, the room reduced to shreds of colour, whirling and reeling in a sickening spin. Boots crunch through the debris as the inquisitor advances. You can hear his laboured breathing.
Take the staff. Just think of the possibilities, Nevarin. The shroud. The gateway to other worlds. Other dreams. Don’t let it end like this.
‘Heal me . . .’ you croak, wincing as you try and move your shattered body. ‘Heal me.’
The boots crunch closer and then stop. Mathis stands over you, his warhammer raised. You look up, his blurred face swaying like a reflection in water. ‘Finally demon, I will rid this world of your taint . . .’
The warhammer comes down. You reach out and snatch the staff, gripping it to your chest. It flares into a brilliant golden light, the magic from your shadow mark pumping into it, filli
ng it with new life. Your life. . .
Yes, yes! The shroud calls us . . . the staff is working . . .
The warhammer comes down. But it finds only rubble, crushing it to sand beneath its heavy weight. Mathis stumbles back, eyes wide with surprise. ‘It can’t be . . .’
All that remains of you is a faint outline of smoke, curling into the dusty air.
You have simply vanished.
‘Demons . . .’ he spins around, eyes scanning the shadows. ‘Where are you, demon? Where did you go?’ But the only answer he receives is the echo of his own voice. ‘Impossible . . .’ He shifts round, looking back to where you had been lying. A tattered roll of parchment lies crumpled amongst the dust. He reaches down and picks it up, unravelling it to reveal a letter. A letter of recommendation for a young knight to apprentice with the great Avian Dale. His brow furrows as he spots your pack lying some metres away, its contents scattered throughout the rubble.
Mathis crumples the parchment in his fist. ‘Wherever you go, Nevarin. . . I will find you. As the One God is my witness. This is not the end . . .’
852
Just like the tinker’s chest in the town of ‘No Hope’, the interior of this chest is larger on the inside, filled with a myriad of weapons, armour and trinkets. It is a far cry from the battered pots and pans in the trader’s cart.
‘Now do you believe me,’ grins Waldo, leaning over your shoulder. ‘I got a knack for finding treasure. And rare stuff, too.’
‘I suspect these don’t come cheap,’ you say with a wry grin, as you lift out a gold-embroidered cloak.
‘That depends. I got my rare items . . . real beauties those, then I got my special deals.’
Will you:
Ask to see the special deals? — 914