The Wrath of Thomerion
Page 14
After all, I’m not an elemental conjurer, you complain, so maybe this was a fool’s mission.
You take a step toward the sword, when…
“Yo ho ho! Dum diddly dum. Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum….”
A freckled young man in tattered clothing emerges from the opposite side of the wood, singing a tune, and starts to climb the hill. Judging by his uneven gait, occasional stumble and pronounced lisp, he’s clearly quite drunk.
Despite your best judgment, you quickly duck back out of view, letting him do his thing.
He notices the sword, closes the distance and rubs his hands in excitement. With slow-motion-style drama, he grips the hilt and, with a grunt and a heave, pulls the sword from its place and hoists it high in the air.
“Look at me, everybody!” he shouts, “I’m King Arthur! Ah ha hahaha!”
Now you feel you must interfere. “Sir, you might want to…”
KA-ZAAK!
The blinding flash is too much; you shield your eyes and look away. Soon, the combined smells of charred flesh and hot metal meet your nostrils.
“Wow, I’m powerful,” the man croaks, just before collapsing into a twitching, writhing heap.
You climb the hill, bend over and examine the man. “By the gods….?” His eyes do not move, and neither does his chest rise or fall.
Heart racing, you scan the area.
There are absolutely no witnesses…
Not knowing how else to vent your discomfort, you giggle morbidly and retrieve the sword, which now glows with a tangible blue aura, as guilt settles into your heart. You touch your other hand to his chest.
“Thank… you… sir. You have performed your royal duty.”
You quickly hustle to your treehouse, where you sleep fitfully, knowing you must, in many parallel ways, face your own fate come the morn.
Quite electrifying...
You watch at rapt attention as the wheel slows. You tense up as an empty section on which something once sat (you’ve long since lost track of which is which) stops in front of you once more. The entire wheel glows red briefly.
Hrm…. Did it deactivate?
You grip the wheel by the edge one more time to test the theory. Indeed, when you try to move it, the wheel won’t budge.
Certainly can’t complain with two out of the three…
Figuring that it’s possible some adventurer put these here to help others coming through the area, you gingerly grip the wheel and spin again. It starts to slow down almost immediately…
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time. Then, follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 1, 2, 8 or 9.
That digit is 0, 3 or 7.
That digit is 4 or 6.
That digit is 5.
You return to the main chamber, where you re-evaluate your options.
I’ve at least seen everything there is to see by now… you ponder. So, it’s time to try unlocking this door.
You approach and carefully insert the key into the keyhole. You take a deep breath. Standing as far out of the way as you can, just in case, you turn the key; the cylinders fall into place with a loud click.
Without your needing to pull on the handle, the door swings open by a few inches, propelled by its own weight and a strange breeze coming from the other side.
Phew!
But what lies beyond?
You return to the main chamber, where you re-evaluate your options.
I explore the descending passage.
I try to open the door to the left.
I examine the door first.
Light is usually a sign, you tell yourself as you enter the inclined passage. The rocks under your feet become more granular, almost like sand, as you go, until your stride makes almost no noise at all.
Thankfully, mercifully quiet… you reflect after seeing ahead a hulking, leathery body sitting with its back turned to you. It wears strange red suspenders and seems to be examining a large blunt weapon. A torch on the wall gives it barely enough light to see by, so it squints and grunts occasionally, sounding frustrated. Beyond it, the tunnel continues into relative darkness.
You’ve encountered the ogre chief in charge of this place, and a lot sooner than you expected. It hasn’t seen you yet.
You duck behind the nearest wall and out of sight, then put a finger to your chin in thought.
I need to get past him somehow… but to think of how he’d acquaint that club with my skull…
What do you do?
I backstab the ogre with my dagger (and hope that kills it).
I throw something down the tunnelway (and hope the noise distracts the ogre’s attention).
I quietly return to the main chamber.
Instinct tells you the door to the left just can’t be as simple as it appears. Without touching the handle or even the door’s surface, you step closer and gaze into the keyhole.
Within, you think you see a primitive system of gears connected to a tiny launching hammer, the kind that might trigger a trap if you weren’t careful. You frown in suspicion.
I can’t disable anything like this, you realize, but maybe the key on the wheel would open it safely…
What do you do?
I try to open the door despite appearances.
I re-enter the descending passage.
Instinct tells you the door to the left just can’t be as simple as it appears. Without touching the handle or even the door’s surface, you step closer and gaze into the keyhole.
Within, you think you see a primitive system of gears connected to a tiny launching hammer, the kind that might trigger a trap if you weren’t careful.
You frown in suspicion.
I can’t disable anything like this, you realize, but maybe this key would open it safely…
You approach and carefully insert the key into the keyhole. You take a deep breath. Standing as far out of the way as you can, just in case, you turn the key; the cylinders fall into place with a loud click. The door swings open, propelled by its own weight and a strange breeze coming from the other side.
Phew!
But what lies beyond?
While the magical word scrawled across the parchment might come in handy later, you feel like pushing your luck a bit. You spin the wheel another time, and feel the corresponding rush of adrenaline all over again, yet still cannot seem to move your feet as the mechanism slows…
The wheel stops with the section holding the key facing you. The key glows blue for a moment, then just sits there.
You reach toward it and attempt to pick it up. Its magical bond has broken; nothing holds it down. You pocket it with a mischievous smirk.
Dare I try for the very last item? you ask yourself. Especially when the odds are now tipped against me?
What do you do?
I spin the wheel yet again.
I leave the chamber.
Look up at the nearest digital clock and make note of the tens digit within the minutes of the current time. Then, follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 1 or 3.
That digit is 2 or 4.
That digit is 0 or 5.
Look up at the nearest digital clock and make note of the tens digit within the current time. Then, follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 0 or 5.
That digit is 1 or 4.
That digit is 2 or 3.
Questions bubble up within you as to why someone would set up such a contraption here. After several moments, you decide to indulge your adventurous side. You grip the wheel by its edge. The wooden surface feels rough to the touch, and you nearly wedge a splinter in your finger when judging the wheel’s mass. You take a deep breath in.
Upon exhaling, you push with all the strength you can muster. The wheel spins wildly, but the objects somehow stay in place. You shift about from foot to foot, but when you try to step away in case your position infl
uences the outcome, you feel an unseen force pull your foot back to the ground.
Whatever this all means, you ponder, it sure is complicated.
Despite the wheel’s age and construction, it makes no sound at all as the spinning begins to slow down. The perimeter inches around, around… a little bit more, and a little more…
Finally, the wheel stops. The section with the scroll on top faces you directly, and now glows with a haunting blue hue.
Glancing around and feeling a tad incredulous, you reach out toward the scroll with care, and pick it up. The magic binding it to the wheel has evidently released.
You place a finger to your chin. Intriguing…
You untie the twine binding the parchment and, without saying anything aloud, examine the scroll. It contains only one word. You ponder its meaning, shrug and place the scroll in your pack.
Now, why not try to get more?
Write down the keyword SCROLL, if you haven’t already.
What do you do?
I spin the wheel lightly.
I spin the wheel hard.
Curiosity burns within you as to the purpose of such a contraption in this context.
Could the creators’ intent have been at all benevolent?
You grip the wheel by a small peg jutting up from its edge. Somehow, the peg feels smooth, while the rest of the wheel appears rough in texture. Wary of its import, you pinch the wood tightly and spin it with all your might. The objects all somehow stay in place, held by some unseen force, even though the vial rolls around a bit within its quarter of the wheel. Once the wheel spins around completely, and starts upon a second time, but you think you hear it creak quietly as it soon begins to slow…
Finally, the wheel stops. The section with the key on top now faces you. The key itself flashes with a faint blue hue.
You reach toward the key with caution. Lifting it reveals that the magical mooring seems to have been removed. You hold the hunk of metal in your palm for a moment, examining it, then pocket it.
Very nice… you think, but dare I push my luck?
What do you do?
I spin the wheel lightly.
I spin the wheel hard.
I leave the chamber.
Part of you wants to act immediately, but the wiser part says to think it through. Wonderment bubbles up within you.
Did someone put this here for their own amusement? Is anyone watching what’s going on?
Upon that thought, you scan the area one more time for anything suspicious. Meanwhile, the wheel just sits, silently beckoning.
Almost of its own volition, your hand inches toward a peg sticking up from the wheel’s edge. You really can’t help yourself but to try once. With a gulp and a nod toward the powers that be, you spin the wheel. It wooden mechanics creak with age, and the items somehow stay in place despite the device’s inertia. It spins more, and yet more, then begins to slow…. Your muscles tense as the section with the skull moves just past you, yet something keeps you from reacting…
The wheel stops. The boots face you, and flash with a brief blue glow.
Feeling cautious and apprehensive, you try to lift them and note that the magical shackle keeping the boots there must have been removed. Upon closer inspection, they look to be of elven make. You pull them over your feet. Somehow, they’re a perfect fit, and even seem to energize you with extra agility and speed.
Titania, you lucky duck… Would it be worth going for more?
What do you do?
I spin the wheel lightly.
I spin the wheel hard.
I leave the chamber.
Emotional attachment aside, you admit to yourself that you can’t use the talisman in the way priests can. Your dagger will be your only self-defense with which you’re already familiar, and you may not even be able to wield the sword, likely giving it to Galumnuk once you reconvene.
“I’ll contribute Bartleby’s talisman. It’s a relic of the church of the sun, possessing considerable magical power.”
Wyver nods. “I accept your tribute.”
You pat the pockets inside your blouse but fail to find the item. Searching inside your belt pouch and finally also your pack similarly yield nothing even resembling the eight-pointed holy symbol.
You titter, embarrassed. “Your Highness, it seems I must have left it at home, the full day’s travel away.”
“Retrieve it, then,” he replies casually. “I shall be here.”
Barely containing your confusion, you give a reverent curtsy, turn and dart toward the entrance as concern swells within your chest.
Once out of sight, you hold your head, trying to think. This is very much unlike me…
Ruing the waste of travel time, you return once again to your treehouse in the City of Storms, barely taking time to camp as the sun retreats into the fateful horizon. Exhausted of energy, you nevertheless burst through your front door and immediately ransack every storage space you have ever possessed.
Nowhere. The memento, your last remnant of your lover’s memory, appears to have completely disappeared from your life.
You have no choice now. By the time you return to the castle ready to offer your dagger, however, security has been locked down much tighter. Signs of random chaos, including fires, unnatural floods, people erupting in unexplainable rage, and the Seal of Thomerion itself have started showing themselves around town. No one knows quite what to do.
That includes you.
Don’t let evil win. Read another path! Return to the previous choice, or start again from the beginning.
You watch at rapt attention as the wheel slows. You tense up as an empty section on which something once sat (you’ve long since lost track of which is which) stops in front of you once more. The entire wheel glows red briefly.
Hrm…. Did it deactivate?
You grip the wheel by the edge one more time to test the theory. Indeed, when you try to move it, the wheel won’t budge.
Certainly can’t complain with two out of the three…
You recover and dash past your friend, hoping against hope that Celestine snaps out of the berserk spell, or at least doesn’t have enough strength to hold you back from your goal.
The orcblood appears to be holding his own, having landed several more cuts, but need all his considerable strength just to maintain the arm bar he holds Bartleby in now.
“Galumnuk! Face him in my direction!”
Raising the body so that its legs dangle and wincing with every retaliatory kick it throws, Galumnuk follows your order. Just as you start to issue the command word for your shield…
You hear a squish, and unbearable pain shoots through your torso. As your blouse begins to bloody, you look down to see the point of a dagger poking from your sternum. And all this time, you hadn’t known that Celestine even owned one.
Cruel fate has taken your life! Rise again. Return to the previous choice, or start again from the beginning.
Figuring that at least the boots you acquired and the intriguing scroll might go hand-in-hand, you summon even more courage and spin the wheel again, with fervor.
Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece, this time making note of the ones digit within the minutes of the current time. Then, follow the corresponding link below.
That digit is 1, 2, or 3.
That digit is 4 or 5.
That digit is 6 or 7.
That digit is 0, 8 or 9.
By the time you reach Bladepass, the sun has climbed halfway through the morning sky, your head swims and your legs ache beyond description. You rent a room in the local inn, anticipating that you will need it again after investigating the cavern, and rest again therein for a few hours.
You find the limestone columns with little trouble, save a short orcblood raking pebbles outside the entrance, who frowns at you as if to say, ‘What business have you in there?’
You ignore him completely, retrieve flint and steel from your pack, light a torch, and enter the cavern. Ahead lay a straig
htforward tunnel. You hike around tremendous boulders and struggle to avoid dangerous crevasses, until the hard ground finally becomes more predictable a mile or more into the mountainside.
Ahead lay a roughly circular chamber of natural make. Dozens of stalactites and stalagmites with subtle green and blue swirls of color poke up and down from the floor and ceiling in random patterns. You scan the area.
Two offshoots are accessible straight ahead. The one on the left inclines steeply, but a faint orange glow, possibly like another flame, radiates from somewhere within. The passage on the right, on the other hand, descends sharply and is completely dark. After taking a few steps in that direction, you detect a musty, damp smell emanating from it.
Finally, a splintered, aged wooden door stands within the wall to your left.