He spits out a half-chewed cigar, before eyeing you up with an amused frown. ‘Well, lookee here.’ There is the clink of metal as he levels his guns at you. ‘Now, I ain’t one to stand in judgement over another soul,’ he says in a slow, gravelly drawl. ‘I guess yer had ya reasons for helping these savages, I see that. But yer can’t change the world, hero. There ain’t nothing here but the law of the jungle. Survival of the fittest.’
You feel the sweat trickling down your cheek as you stare into the gun barrels, judging distances, angles, timings . . . your strange gift of prophecy flicking through the outcomes of this battle. Most end in your defeat . . . most, but not all.
‘The law of the jungle,’ you smile thinly, edging closer. ‘Survival. The new replaces the old. You’ve had your time old man. Leave these lands – let the tigris live in peace.’
The man gives a throaty chuckle. ‘Yer think I’m your problem? I’m just the delivery boy, pal. You want to point the finger then start with the king – and all them other rich hogs with more gold than sense. They like those tigris hides back in the cities.’
You edge closer, hands tightening around your weapons.
‘And don’t you be forgetting the games,’ he continues. ‘Tigris know how to fight. Guess yer can see that for yerself . . .’
The hunter takes his eyes off you for an instant as he gestures to the ruined compound. That second is all you need – you dive forward, rolling across the ground as a shotgun flares, spewing a storm of metal slugs at the spot where you were standing.
When you leap back to your feet, you find yourself standing eye-ball-to-eyeball with the leader. Up close you can see his scars, like a spider’s web of ice glistening against his weathered skin. They remind you of your own scars – from the demon.
‘New replaces the old,’ you grin.
Then you are both spinning and twisting in a savage dance of knives, guns and magic. It is time to fight:
Special abilities
Buckshot barrage: At the end of each combat round, Bill fires his shotguns. Take a speed challenge. If the result is 15 or more, you dodge the bullets. If the result is 14 or less, you must take 10 damage. You can use armour to absorb this damage.
Animal attraction: If you have the rhinosaur pheromone, you can use it instead of rolling for a damage score to coat Bill in its powerful scent. If the rhinosaur has been freed from its cage, it will immediately attack the hunter. For the remainder of the combat, Bill must take 4 damage at the end of each combat round, ignoring armour.
Survival of the fittest: You no longer benefit from the strength in numbers ability if you have it.
If you manage to defeat this veteran hunter, turn to 479. Otherwise, turn to 664.
467
The girl opens three baskets, lifting each of the snakes out in turn. The first is a medium-sized snake, with jagged bands of black and silver dancing along its body. ‘Meet the fer-de-lance,’ says the girl proudly. ‘One of my younger snakes, a little churlish at times, but his brashness has its uses – this one won’t shirk away from a thing. You’d make a great team.’
The girl offers out the next snake, which is smaller, its dark-green skin flecked with yellow. Behind its eyes is a raised crown of bone. ‘The monarch viper is all about finesse – don’t judge on size, her little poison cocktail can take down a troll . . . or bigger. Quick, clean and efficient.’
‘And that one?’ you ask, peering into the last basket.
The girl hesitates, her lips pursed. ‘Hmm, this one might be a challenge. Zusha is a bushmaster, one of the deadliest killers in the Terral Jungle.’ She carefully lifts out the snake, its thick grey body instantly coiling around her waist. ‘Zusha likes to hug – and squeeze the life out of her victims. And you too, if you don’t show her the right respect. Isn’t that right, Zushi-wushi?’ She tickles the snake under the chin, eliciting a long rattling hiss as the pale forked tongue flickers back and forth. ‘So, do you fancy working your charm on any of these?’
The fer-de-lance is available for 150 gold, the monarch viper is 300 gold and the lesser bushmaster is 500 gold.
Fer-de-lance
Monarch viper
Lesser bushmaster
(left hand: snake)
(left hand: snake)
(left hand: snake)
+1 speed +2 brawn
+2 speed +2 brawn
+2 speed +3 brawn
Ability: venom
Ability: venom
Ability: constrictor
(requirement: venommancer)
(requirement: venommancer)
(requirement: venommancer)
You thank the girl for sharing her exotic collection of snakes. Turn to 571 to resume your journey.
468
‘Have faith!’ bellows Ventus, raising a glowing fist into the air. ‘The One God tests us – and we will not be found wanting.’ He sprints towards the giant, throwing his body into a spin as he kicks and punches at its enormous legs. Bea joins him, her magic swords hacking at the enchanted wood.
‘Fools!’ hisses Cernos. ‘You are weak! Children fighting mountains with stones.’
As the giant’s shadow sweeps over you, you start to wonder if the demon speaks the truth. But it is too late now – your beleaguered companions need your aid. It is time to fight:
Special abilities
Deadly thorns: At the end of each combat round, you must automatically lose 3 health from the creature’s barbed fists.
If you manage to defeat Orgorath a second time, turn to 411.
469
‘We go!’ Anse grabs you by the arm and starts running for the edge of the island of floor. You instinctively pull back, fearful that he may have lost his mind, but the paladin is strong, dragging you with him. At the last moment, he jumps into the nothingness, putting a hand to the necklace dangling around his neck. A crucifix. You cling to him tightly as a chill wind roars in your ears, ripping and tearing at your clothes. There is a burst of bright light and then . . .
You find yourself lying on your back. Above you white clouds drift by at a leisurely pace, while a chill wintry breeze rustles the stems of long grass.
‘The Moors . . .’ You sit up quickly, looking around.
Anse stands several metres away, his sightless gaze fixed on the dark tower. It is steadily falling to ruin amidst a storm of whirling chaos.
‘The others!’ You gasp, hurrying to his side. ‘Polk, Joss . . .?’
The paladin shakes his head, his eyes unreadable behind the band of white cloth. ‘It was too late for them,’ he whispers at last. He pats you on the shoulder, then turns and walks away.
You stand alone, watching as the tower is finally engulfed by the maelstrom. There is a pulse of dark light, then everything seems to implode inwards, as if pulled back into some other space, leaving behind an empty moorland. There is no evidence, no trace, that the tower was ever there.
(Return to the quest map to continue your adventure.)
470
You place the rune stone into the cavity (you may remove this item from your hero sheet). There is a dull click as it slots into place – the five glyphs suddenly lighting up with a red glow. The light continues to brighten, spreading out from the glyphs to form a glittering pattern of criss-crossing lines that cover the stone. Then there is a grating rumble as the lid draws back of its own accord, revealing the container’s hollow cavity.
The tigris back away, looking uncertain. ‘Dwarf magic not good,’ sniffs Scar-face, covering his face with the back of his paw. ‘Smell worse than bats.’
Unperturbed by your companion’s reaction, you lean over into the stone treasure chest. Inside, you find a small casket containing 100 gold crowns and one of the following rewards:
Onyx blade
Hammerhead
Shaper’s stone
(backpack)
(head)
(ring)
A crescent-shaped
blade for a mighty weapon
+1 speed +2 a
rmour
Ability: charge
(requirement: warrior)
+1 magic +1 armour
Ability: might of stone
After examining the items, you rejoin the others and continue into the opposite tunnel. Turn to 513.
471
Following Andos’ instructions, you discover a hidden trail that leads you through the forested hills. It eventually widens into a sandy clearing, where the youth is waiting for you.
‘Did you get the books?’ he snaps, fixing you with an intent glare. ‘You’ve kept me waiting for quite some time.’
If you have The Book of Alpha, The Book of Omega and The Book of Enigma, turn to 390. Otherwise, you vow to return when you have tracked them down. Return to the map to continue your journey.
472
You clamber up the last section of the wall, pulling yourself across stones and gravel to the edge of a rocky bluff. As you take a moment to catch your breath, your eyes settle on the forest below – and the crumbling ziggurats of a Lamuri city, protruding above the treetops.
The southern jungle.
And there, in the distance, is an immense black volcano, its dark form brooding and ominous against the white haze. It immediately tugs at a memory, reminding you of the black peak from your vision at Durnhollow – the mountain that rained fire.
Congratulations, you have successfully navigated the dark interior. If you have the word explorer on your hero sheet turn to 817. Otherwise, you may now return to the quest map to continue your adventure.
473
With the venomous Kaala defeated, you may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Eyes of the serpent
Snake-skin coat
Slither steps
(head)
(chest)
(feet)
+1 speed +2 armour
+2 speed +2 brawn
+1 speed +2 brawn
Ability: hypnotise
Ability: deceive
Ability: charm
As a rogue you may also take one of Kaala’s enchanted scales. This unique item will reward you with the venommancer career:
Kaala’s scale
(talisman)
+1 speed
Ability: venommancer career (see below)
You must have Kaala’s scale equipped if you wish to learn the venommancer career. As soon as this item is unequipped or you learn a new career, you lose the abilities associated with this item/career.
The venommancer has the following abilities:
Snake strike (pa): (requires a snake in the left hand.) Before the first combat round begins you may automatically inflict 2 damage dice to a single opponent, ignoring armour. This will also inflict any harmful passive abilities you may have, such as bleed and venom.
Toxicology (pa): You are immune to all delirium, disease and venom effects.
Prising open the serpent’s mouth, you tug one of its enormous fangs loose. You decide to take this as a trophy. (Make a note of Kaala’s fang on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space.) If you have the glaive of souls equipped, turn to 430. Otherwise, return to the quest map to continue your adventure.
474
Using your chosen reagents you craft a clawed wand, its gnarled fingers gripping the coal-black heart of a phoenix. If you wish, you may now lay claim to:
Scriva, nimbus of nightmares
(left hand: wand)
+3 speed +4 magic
Ability: curse, sear
(requirement: mage)
If you wish to craft another item, turn to 755. Otherwise, return to the map to continue your adventure.
475
You believe that the demon speaks the truth. Without its aid, you will not be able to defeat the guardian of the forest.
‘Time to put your words to the test, demon.’ You bring your weapons down on the first of the iron restraints.
‘Stop!’ Conall looks back over his shoulder, his eyes bulging beneath his protruding brow. ‘The demon is a trickster! Its words are lies.’ He spins on his heel, stalking towards you – but Damaris intervenes, whipping her staff around to aim it at the warrior.
‘Do not stop us, Conall. Or I will end you right here.’
Conall draws up short, frowning at the witch through his matted strands of dark hair. ‘You betray me.’
‘No, you fool. You betray yourself,’ she snaps. ‘We need the demon. Can’t you see that?’
Ignoring your companion’s bickering, you continue to move quickly around the dais to smash the remaining restraints.
‘I am your king!’ Conall lifts his runed axes above his head, preparing to strike the witch. ‘This is the end of us! The end of you!’
‘No,’ snarls the demon, its breath quickening with excitement. ‘This is your salvation!’ Turn to 393.
476
You rejoin Damaris and recount what happened. When you have finished, there is a moment of silence as the woman stares at the ancient tree, lost in thought. Then she gives a disgruntled snort. ‘Duerdoun. I should have known.’
Before you get a chance to ask, Damaris has turned away, starting up the winding stairs that lead back into the mountain. You hurry to catch up.
‘Duerdoun is a dwarf site, to the south,’ she explains at last, once you are halfway up the long stairs. ‘We avoid it – mostly ruins now, but it has become a haven for dark things, ancient magic best left alone. The relic that surfaced recently must have been taken there. We need to find it if we hope to get inside that forest.’
You are already struggling to recall many of the things that were shown to you in your vision, but you can still picture the strange artefact in perfect detail; an ornate warhammer, with a head fashioned from panels of gold and silver.
The climb is exhausting, your legs burning from the exertion. Even Damaris has become silent, her attention focused solely on navigating the narrow stairs. Finally, you feel a cool breeze brushing against your face. Having reached the top, you find yourself back on the ledge, overlooking the moors. The sky is now a deep blood-red, shot through with purple. ‘We leave at first light,’ states Damaris, her stoic expression cast in crimson hues. ‘I suggest you prepare yourself, Sanchen. Duerdoun will be. . . unforgiving.’
Record the word Wiccan on your hero sheet. If you wish, you may now return to the map. When you are ready to continue this quest, turn to 489.
477
You follow Jacob up the ladder. As you pass through the glimmering circle of light, you feel a cold sensation prickling along your skin. Gripping the rungs tightly, you continue to ascend – until a cracked stone floor comes into view. You drag yourself onto it, aware of the whirling maelstrom of black cloud thundering above your head. Angry bolts of lightning arc through the hellish sky, illuminating the tower battlements.
You stagger to your feet, glancing around for any signs of the child.
Then something heavy strikes you across the back. You are flung against the crenellated wall, the world lurching in a dizzying blur. There is an angry hiss as you are hit again.
‘Just die!’
Desperately you try and crawl away, while trying to get a fix on your attacker. It is a wiry man with bedraggled grey hair spilling over his gaunt face. A patchwork coat, grimy and soot-stained, hangs loosely off his scrawny shoulders.
‘Jacob!’ you gasp, realising that this must be the toymaker – transformed back to his old self.
‘Don’t stop me!’ he snarls, looking like some wild animal. His eyes are bulging, drool dribbling down his chin. ‘I want to go back. I want to go back to the dark place. I want to be young again!’
He is holding a gnarled wooden cudgel, which he raises above his head, ready to bring down in a savage blow. You fumble for your weapons – but there is no need. There is a dull thud as the man lurches forward, his mouth gawping open in astonishment. His rheumy eyes lower to the crossbow bolt protruding from his chest, its shaft painted with blood. The tower gives another violent shake, throwing the frai
l man off balance. With a shriek he pitches over the side of the low wall, disappearing into the swirling cloud.
You look around for your rescuer, your eyes settling on Polk, who is clambering over the side of the battlements, his clothes smoking and torn. He drops to the ground with a pained groan, his crossbow clattering next to him.
‘Polk!’ You rush to the warrior’s side. ‘Are you wounded? We have to get out of here!’
The warrior shakes his head, his eyes flicking to the blood seeping through his jerkin. He nods to his pack, leaning forward so that you can remove it from his shoulders. ‘Take the box,’ he whispers. ‘The toymaker’s box . . .’
You open the pack to find a wooden box wrapped in an oily sheet. Lifting it up, you see that a scene has been intricately carved on the lid, showing a cheerful man driving a cart filled with toys. When you look back at Polk you realise that the life has left his eyes, his head slumped against his chest.
Throwing caution to the wind, you flip open the lid of the box . . .
There is a flash of crimson as something bursts out, rippling like fire. You drop the box, stepping away as an immense bird, fashioned from paper, streams up into the sky. Its tail feathers sparkle with magic as they stream out behind it, rippling in the dark wind. Driven by pure instinct, you leap into the air and grab hold of the tail, letting it lift you up off the tower roof and into the storm. Everything goes black – and frighteningly cold – but you keep a determined grip on the strange bird.
Then the clouds are gone and you feel the warmth of sunlight beating against your face. Below you, the Fenstone Moors stretch as far as the eye can see – a verdant green wilderness, pockmarked with boulders, ridges and sparkling pools of water. It is a most welcome sight.
The Heart of Fire Page 37