Legion of Shadow
Page 56
‘The last charge,’ Nyms snorts. ‘Always sounded like a suicide mission to me. A hundred knights against an army of thousands. No wonder they were cut to pieces.’
Caeleb brushes the wet hair from his eyes. ‘They knew they would not survive, Nyms. But their sacrifice bought time – time for crucial reinforcements to arrive from Talanost. Without their sacrifice, the king’s army would have been overrun.’
‘Hmm, history does have a way of over-glorifying the past.’
Lansbury leans forward, scrutinising the tombs and ruins in the valley below. ‘Let’s concentrate on the facts. Zul is using necromancy to raise the Tor Knights – turning them against us. It is only a matter of time before his mages desecrate these tombs.’ The elderly medic turns to Nyms. ‘We cannot allow them to do this.’
‘And the horn?’ Nyms folds his arms stubbornly. ‘I’m not risking my life for some fireside fable.’
Caeleb tugs his visor down. ‘It’s not a fable. Arthurian swore an oath with his last dying breath, that he would return to Valeron in its time of greatest need.’
‘Oh really? And who was around to hear those grand words?’ Nyms puts a hand to his ear, grinning. ‘According to your famous legend, all the knights were wiped out – to the very last man.’
Caeleb shakes his head. ‘You should read more, Nyms. It was Jorvic Moore, the Tor Knight’s standard bearer. He was mortally wounded . . . the medics couldn’t save him, but he managed to return to the camp with Arthurian’s horn – the one he used in battle a hundred times to sound his charge.’
Nyms rolls his eyes. ‘And if we find this horn, he’ll come along and help us battle Zul. That is what you’re saying, right?’
Caeleb takes up his shield, its surface slick with rainwater. ‘It comes down to faith, Nyms. I believe it’s worth a try – at least.’
‘And that’s good enough for me,’ you interject impatiently.
Beneath your clothing, you can feel the shadow mark burning . . . eager for battle.
Nyms nods, glancing up at the broiling, storm-heavy sky. ‘OK, you win. But really . . . couldn’t we have picked a better day for this?’
Caeleb draws his sword and starts down into the valley. Within seconds the plated warrior has vanished – swallowed up by the thick banks of white fog. Drawing your own weapons, you follow the knight’s tracks through the sludgy black ash. Turn to 833.
865
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:
Veil of dark synergies
Elemental greaves
Conduit of shadow
(cloak)
(feet)
(ring)
+2 speed +3 magic
+2 speed +2 armour
+3 magic
Ability: second wind
Ability: fire aura
Ability: overload
When you have made your decision, turn to 811.
866
You race from the mansion, struggling to keep your balance as the ground shifts and trembles beneath your feet. The booming sound has not abated, each thunderous bellow hinting at something impossibly large – and powerful – now loose in the city.
Stumbling through a series of rubble-filled halls, you finally make it out into the courtyard. . .
. . .to discover that day has turned to night.
Looking up, you see the cause of this dramatic change – a gargantuan orb-like creature hangs suspended above Talanost. You stagger, almost falling to your knees, as you struggle to take in its enormity. The orb is a moon-sized mass of bloated grey flesh, its underside swelling into a vast number of tubular protrusions. From each one, black smoke pumps out into the darkening skies, enveloping the city in a veil of smog.
‘How did we miss that?’ croaks Nyms, unable to tear his eyes away from the horror.
There is another thunderous boom from above, coming from the creature itself. Magic crackles over its body, coating it in a glimmering meshwork of light.
‘Judah, protect us!’ Mathis strides down the mansion stairs, his fists gripping his warhammer ‘Avian, speak to me. What is that thing?’
The mage stands in the doorway, his eyes wide with astonishment. ‘A doom orb. The most dangerous of the legion’s creations.’
‘Did that machine summon it here?’ you ask confused.
Avian struggles to order his thoughts. ‘I . . . I think so . . . I believe the machine was keeping it anchored . . . in the shroud.’ His gaze shifts to Mathis. ‘Destroying the machine would have severed the link, pulling it back to our world. We should not have interfered!’
Before the inquisitor can reply, there is a deafening roar from above. The creature’s tubes begin to swell, their sides flickering with spectral light – then, like a giant bellows, they deflate, expelling a huge blast of black fire from their gigantic apertures. The column of flame slams down in an area outside the city walls, sending up a vast cloud of ash and debris.
The resulting tremor forces you all to hug the ground.
‘That must have been the camp,’ chokes Lansbury. ‘Ravenwing’s forces . . .’
You catch her panicked expression. Then the world explodes in white light. You find yourself flying through the air, jagged rocks and broken masonry spiralling past you. Then you crash down on something hard, bones snapping and breaking beneath you. Before you can register the pain, your shadow mark flares into life, knitting your shattered body back together again.
As you stagger to your feet, you see a figure running towards you through the smoke. One of Ravenwing’s guards. He looks frantic, as if he is being chased by something. A bright light flashes behind him, then he topples to the ground, his sword skittering away. You see that the back of his armour has been blown away, an arrow shaft protruding from his exposed back.
You hurry down the street, your magic slowly filling you with renewed strength. From somewhere up ahead, you can hear the clamour of battle – steel ringing on steel, and the wail of some bestial creature. The ground trembles as more explosions rip across the crumbling wasteland. You can’t detect their source, but clearly they are not the work of the monstrous orb, whose attention seems focused on the camp beyond the city walls.
Your shadow mark flashes once again, feeding off your adrenaline and Daarko’s absorbed magic. The world begins to blur as you race forward at impossible speed, your footfalls punching holes into the street. Ahead, you sight a ruined hall, one side reduced to a jagged slope of rubble. With a cry of exertion, you throw your body forwards, kicking off from a nearby wall to grab a splintered beam. You swing underneath it, somersaulting high into the air – the force of your momentum taking you spinning over the ravaged side of the hall, to alight on its roof.
Below you stretches Talanost’s famous market square.
Once it might have been a joyous sight – a gaudy collision of colour and noise, of eager shoppers bustling down makeshift aisles, to the accompaniment of minstrels and the hawking cries of merchants. But today. . .
Today it is teeming with shadow spawn. Turn to 885.
867
You take a hasty swipe at the stranger, who skitters back on his heels, dodging your blow with ease. It appears there may be more to this vagabond than meets the eye.
‘I’m still sharp,’ he cackles, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. ‘This is another test. You try my faith!’ (Turn to 816.)
868
(Make a note of the word apprentice on your hero sheet.)
These pitiful creatures are no match for your power. Overcome by a dark frenzy, you throw aside your weapons and launch yourself at the nearest scarron. Catching it around the tail, you spin around, dragging the creature with you, then proceed to use it as a club to pummel the rest of its nightmarish brood into a foul-smelling pulp. Once your grim work is done, you swing back your arms and then hurl your makeshift weapon into the advancing ranks of shadow spawn. ‘And good riddance,’ you s
cowl, flicking the goo from your hands.
Congratulations! With the scarrons defeated, you may now help yourself to one of the following special rewards:
The sting
Scarron reapers
Fang of Vengos
(main hand: spear)
(gloves)
(left hand: dagger)
+3 speed +5 brawn
+1 speed +4 magic
+2 speed +4 brawn
Ability: impale
Ability: piercing
Ability: venom
(requirement: warrior)
(requirement: mage)
(requirement: rogue)
When you have made your decision, turn to 927.
869
The icelock is defeated, her final scream accompanied by the ringing clink of ice on stone as Caeleb’s magical prison is shattered.
You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Witch’s finger
Blood winter
Deep freeze
(left hand: wand)
(ring)
(main hand: staff)
+2 speed +3 magic
+1 brawn
+2 speed +3 magic
Ability: curse
Ability: leech
Ability: stun
When you have made your decision, turn to 808.
870
There was a time when you remember experiencing pain, exhaustion, even remorse – but now there is just the fire, filling every pore of your being, burning beneath the skin, blazing behind your berserk fury.
Lorcan is no match for you. With another swipe of your weapon, you knock his staff away, sending it skittering across the ground. The wounded mage sprawls backwards into the broken fragments of his stone guardians. He tries to roll over, to crawl away, but you plant a boot in his side, driving him back to the ground.
‘He never told me . . . never told me it would end this way,’ pants the mage bitterly.
‘This wasn’t the ending I was expecting either,’ you growl, standing over him. ‘Any last requests?’
Lorcan smiles then, his scar twisting it back into a sneer. ‘If I die . . . I die on my terms, Nevarin.’
He throws himself forward, his body rushing out from the confines of his clothes in a torrent of dark energy. It slams into your shadow mark, pushing itself inside your skin, inside your body. You cry out in horror, clawing at the mark, trying to make it stop – but Lorcan is inside you now, his magic running through your veins . . . whispering inside your head.
‘You are me. I am you.’
Your shadow mark flashes, and suddenly you feel your body changing – the bones shifting and realigning, the skin and muscle flowing like liquid to mould itself anew. ‘Stop this!’ you cry, watching as your arms and hands transform before your very eyes, growing paler . . . older; branched with dark veins.
You stagger towards the golden shield that the mage had discarded earlier. Holding it up, you turn its polished surface to look upon your reflection. The mage’s face is staring back at you, his scar cutting down the left cheek, the mouth curled in a constant sneer. ‘This is not me!’ You hurl the shield away, clawing at your scarred head, where the hair grows in bristly grey tufts. ‘This is not me!’
Lorcan has fused his essence with your own. You have gained the following special ability:
Windwalker (co): If you win a round, you can use all your attack speed dice for your damage score (adding your brawn or magic as normal). You can only use this ability once per combat. (Note: you cannot use modifier abilities to alter these dice results once they are used for your damage score.)
Behind you a door slams, followed by the rattle of metal as boots scrape across stone. You spin round, almost losing your footing as your new body shifts balance quicker than the old. A figure strides towards you, their armoured features obscured by shadow. ‘Nevarin?’
If you have the word rival on your hero sheet, turn to 851. Otherwise, turn to 933.
871
Searching the general’s armour, you find a leather pouch containing 150 gold crowns. You may also help yourself to one of the following special rewards:
Fortune’s favour
Unstable element
Misery cord
(main hand: dagger)
(necklace)
(ring)
+2 speed +5 magic
+1 speed +2 armour
+2 magic +1 armour
Ability: radiance
Ability: disrupt
Ability: thorns
When you have made your decision, turn to 824.
872
You lurch to your feet, feeling dizzy and nauseous. As your hazy surroundings swim into focus, you see that you have been brought to a stone chamber. Light from a narrow window illuminates a jumbled assortment of boxes and crates, all dusted with a fine white sand.
You catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You spin round, expecting another attack. Instead you see Fetch limping away, towards the far side of the room. His breathing is ragged, the harsh gasps echoing in the shadowy chamber.
‘Where are we?’ you call after him angrily.
The robed assassin stops and turns. ‘You are a long way from home, Nevarin,’ he hisses.
Reaching to his belt, Fetch pulls out a short silver wand. With a pained grimace, he raises his arm and points the wand towards a corner of the room. Your eyes flick to the shadows, where a metal statue rests against the sandy wall.
‘Kymeet Malci’ snarls the assassin. There is a flash from the end of the wand. Bewildered, you glance back to the statue – and give a gasp of surprise. Lights are now flickering around its head, moving in a rapid arc as they build up speed. A second later and the lights are joined by a whirring sound coming from inside the plated chest.
‘What is it?’ you growl, backing away.
Fetch answers with a cold cackle of delight. ‘Your doom, Nevarin!’
Suddenly, the armoured body jerks into life, its massive fists clenching and unclenching. You draw your weapons as the automaton staggers forward, knocking boxes and trunks aside with its steel arms. As it enters the band of light cast from the window, you see that it is fashioned from sheets of iron, bolted and riveted to form a crude human shape. Its head, however, is a whirring mass of cogs and wheels, spinning in a frenzied blur as magic crackles around the golem’s glass eyes.
‘Farewell, Nevarin.’
The strange assassin resumes his escape, leaving you to do battle with this outlandish guardian:
Special abilities
Body of metal: The golem is immune to piercing, impale, barbs, thorns, venom, disease and bleed.
If you defeat the golem, turn to 891.
873
‘Like the gate. Yes, yes. They made it. The elves.’ He gestures to the alabaster statues, carved to resemble men and women, dressed in ornate headdresses and robes. ‘We should not have ended such a great people.’ He looks back at you, then at the staff. ‘They were creators – made things. We could have learned so much from them. Instead, we take, take, take – put back the pieces again.’
‘That still doesn’t explain what it does,’ you interject impatiently.
‘The shroud, fool!’ He snaps suddenly, veins cording in his neck. ‘What else would it do? It takes me back there. Takes me back to the shroud.’ He sucks in a deep breath. ‘I still hear it. I still . . . Yes, still hear the shroud. Still feel it calling. I hear him. He tells me what to do.’
‘The shroud is a place of demons – of magic,’ you insist. ‘How is it possible to exist there? I thought it was dangerous.’
Lorcan looks at you intently. ‘This is not real . . . no, not real. The shroud is real. Where everything is possible. I have seen things. . . such wondrous things.’ His words break into a cackle of maniacal laughter.
You’re insane,’ you growl, your hands inching closer to your weapons. ‘You speak of fever dreams. Nothing more.’
Lorcan’s laughter dies. ‘You don’t thi
nk, Nevarin – don’t think of the possibilities. I wish I could show you. Open your eyes. But you must die so that I can go home.’
Return to 928 to ask Lorcan another question, or turn to 939 to attack this deranged mage.
874
The icelock is defeated, her final scream accompanied by the ringing clink of ice on stone as Caeleb’s magical prison is shattered.
You may now help yourself to one of the following special rewards:
Crown of ice
Hunger
Hoarfrost
(head)
(ring)
(main hand: staff)
+2 speed +3 magic
+2 brawn
+2 speed +3 magic
Ability: barbs
Ability: leech
Ability: chill touch
When you have made your decision, turn to 808.
875
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 black coat, trimmed with silver and gold runes.
‘That depends. I got my rare items . . .real beauties those, then I got my special deals.’