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The Eye of Winter's Fury

Page 41

by Michael J. Ward


  If you manage to defeat the lord of the herd, turn to 324.

  476

  You twist your weapon into the skeleton’s ribcage, using it as leverage to rip the bony monster from its prison. There is a sucking, squelching pop as the skeleton finally comes free, its once-animated bones rattling lifelessly to the ground, no longer powered by the magic of the mould-beast.

  With the skeleton defeated, you set about cutting through the remaining tentacles, finally driving your weapons and magic into the ruptured hole where the skeleton had once been. The resulting explosion sends clods of mould and dirt flying in all directions. You twist away as it spatters across your clothes, filling your nostrils with the reek of decay.

  ‘Lovely,’ grimaces Anise, standing with arms held to her side, looking down at the muck now coating her from head to foot.

  ‘Mould bath,’ you grin sheepishly. ‘It might grow on you.’ After wiping the grime from your eyes, you set about searching through the creature’s remains. As well as 30 gold crowns, you also find one of the following rewards:

  Perish Rotted shield Crawling cap

  (main hand: sword) (left hand: shield) (head)

  +1 speed +1 armour +1 brawn +1 magic

  Ability: decay Ability: slam Ability: parasite

  When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 525.

  477

  Leeta becomes increasingly animated as she shows off her collection of dog toys – a grisly array of whips, spiked collars and what she terms ‘incentives’. ‘Look, look, this is my favourite. Meat on a stick,’ she laughs, lifting up a wooden pole. You note the frozen carcass dangling from one end, unsure if it is animal or human. ‘Stick this in front of their little faces and you’ll be rocketing across the finish line. Cute, huh?’

  You may purchase any of the following upgrades for 40 gold crowns each:

  Barbed whip +1 speed

  Spiked collars +1 toughness

  Meat on a stick +1 speed

  (Note: You can only buy each item of equipment once. Remember to make the necessary adjustments to your hero sheet.) You may now view the lead dogs (turn to 502) or explore the rest of the compound (turn to 106).

  478

  Three of us. There were always three of us. That was balance. The woman shakes her head, her eyes unfocused as she recollects a memory. I am Kismet, the spinner. I create the threads, the lives. Gabriel was the weaver, set the course of each and every fate. And Aisa . . .

  The woman stops, her normally serene features suddenly twitching with anger. She was the cutter. The ender of life. For all things must come to an end.

  ‘Where are the others now?’ You look around at the dazzling weave, bright against the void. You see no sign of anyone else. Instead, there is only a feeling of emptiness. A sadness. The woman has started to scratch at her head again.

  Aisa’s desire was too strong. Not happy, not contented to end lives. She wanted to end the plan, the work. She wanted to destroy the weave. The woman twists her head to look at you, blood seeping from the fresh cuts above her brow. Aisa created Hel. The chaos, the shroud. It touches all worlds. Seeks to engulf them. Swallow them. I watch the threads die. Hundreds. Thousands. More. I hear the music soften. I hear it.

  You watch and listen, no longer sure if this woman speaks the truth or is spouting some crazed nonsense; just another spirit trapped here like yourself, driven insane by solitude. ‘And what of Gabriel?’ you venture, playing along with this peculiar story.

  He had to restore balance. Eight worlds gone, only one left to save, only one. Dormus. He gave everything he was, the loves, the sacrifices, the tears, the very essence of being. He put himself in you, in every thread that still existed and every thread that was yet to come. He shared his light and his love. He took his choice, his power over destiny, and gave it to each and every one of you.

  Your gaze strays to the web, a million strands all converging and bisecting in a bewildering array of shapes. There seems no pattern or form to the weave, just a mayhem of chaotic confusion.

  Yes, you see it too. There is no plan. No plan! The woman taps manically at the sides of her head. He only made it worse. No symphony now. Only noise. A disharmony. Sometimes I wish. I wish it would just end!

  (Return to 713 to ask another question or turn to 760 to end the conversation.)

  479

  Congratulations! You have gained the captain’s conch. This gives you control of the Naglfar. (Simply make a note of this item on your hero sheet, it doesn’t take up backpack space) Your ship has the following attributes (record these on the second part of your hero sheet):

  Speed Stability Toughness

  Naglfar 7 8 10

  If you have the Pandora in your backpack, you can reattach the figurehead to the ship, restoring the vessel to its former glory. This will increase the ship’s speed and toughness by 2. (Remove the Pandora from your backpack.) Once your hero sheet is updated, return to the map to continue your adventure.

  480

  The guard removes the one of hearts from his hand and places it face down on the discard pile. He reaches into the pouch and takes another stone at random. He has now gained the four of stars:

  Next, the hooded ghost discards a stone from his own hand and takes another from the bag. A cold, cackling laughter comes from the shadows of his cowl as he studies his new hand.

  ‘What should I do now?’ whispers the guard. ‘I have a Queen’s Wave. This could win me the game.’

  Will you:

  Discard the two of moons? 541

  Show your current hand? 517

  481

  ‘I keep seeing ’em, always lurking at the edges. Shadows you never get a proper look at. Even heard their whispering.’ Caul snorts, giving a nervous laugh. ‘I know. When I hear myself, I think I’m losing it too, all kinds of craziness going through my head right now. You see . . .’ He drops his voice, flicking a nervous glance over his shoulder. ‘Those explorers, back in the canyon. This place got me thinking. What if . . . you know.’ He nods his head, grinning with yellow-stained teeth.

  ‘I’m not sure I do,’ you reply, confused.

  ‘I once heard a story, over at Ryker’s. Of a spirit that haunts the coast. A drowned sailor. Those that saw him said he was searching for something – something he lost. Theory is, he’s trapped here until he finds what he’s looking for. Some think it’s a treasure, others his dead crewmates.’

  ‘Are you saying . . .’ You pause to swallow, feeling your throat constrict. ‘Reah and the others were . . . ghosts?’

  Caul leans back, the green light etching strange patterns across his grimy face. ‘This place plays tricks on you. I ain’t trusting nothing no more.’

  Will you:

  Ask what he knows about the caves? 498

  Ask if he has any weapons or supplies? 609

  Ask if he will accompany you? 384

  482

  To your surprise you spot another figure clinging to the back of the demon, their arms wrapped tightly around one of its spines. A thickly-muscled man, blond hair whipped back behind his stone-grey helm. His face is bloodied, caked with filth and dust, and yet you can still make out the criss-crossed ridges of gnarly tissue that line his features.

  ‘Skoll!’ The word is barely given voice before it is ripped away by the roaring gale.

  The warrior’s brow creases as his eyes strain against the brightness and the blasting chill of the wind. ‘Luck of the ancestors,’ he calls back, readjusting his grip on the slippery spine. ‘Together at the end. Let us make it a fight worthy of the ballads.’ Turn to 777.

  483

  Not wishing to risk injury by going for the opening, you let the platform carry you back to the cave. With nothing else of interest in the chamber, you decide to leave via the passageway. Turn to 2.

  484

  Using the chemist’s notes (you may remove this item from your hero sheet), you are able to make your own deadly potions and powders. However, their effects aren’t always reliabl
e!

  If you wish, you may now learn the chemist career. The chemist has the following special abilities:

  Chaotic catalyst (co): Instead of rolling for a damage score, you may douse your opponent in a volatile concoction. Roll a die to discover the result:

  or Your opponent heals 6 health.

  or Your opponent is inflicted with venom and must lose 2 health at the end of every combat round for the duration of the combat.

  or Your opponent takes 4 damage dice, ignoring armour.

  Any opponent who is next to them on the combat list (above and below) takes 1 damage die, ignoring armour.

  This ability can only be used once per combat.

  Dry ice (co): Use this ability instead of rolling for a damage score to shroud the battlefield in swirling smoke. At the beginning of each subsequent combat round, roll a die:

  or You must lower your speed by 1 for the current round.

  or No effect.

  or Your opponent/s must lower their speed by 2 for the current round.

  With little else of interest in the laboratory, you decide to leave the prison. Turn to 426.

  485

  With no means of igniting the gas, the riftwing clambers back out of the hole then charges at you once again. It is time to fight:

  Speed Brawn Armour Health

  Riftwing 2 1 1 28

  If you manage to defeat this winged fiend, turn to 217. If you lose the combat, remember to record your defeat on your hero sheet. You may then attempt the combat again or return to the map.

  486

  Your eyes narrow to slits of rage. The paladin has suddenly become the representation of everything bad that has happened to you – the betrayal by the roadside, your death, the cursed body you are now forced to inhabit . . . . He has become your target.

  You shift your body, edging yourself into a battle stance. Skoll reads your movement, his muscles tensed. You share a brief glance, noting the grim smile on his ragged face.

  Then together you move.

  The fight is over in moments. But the outcome is a little different to what you had expected. The paladin moves with a speed that is frighteningly quick, the light blurring his body into a dizzying streak. The blast takes you in the stomach before you even know it is coming – a ball of holy energy that burns with the heat of a thousand fires. It blows you off your feet, punching you into the far wall. Dusty rock crumbles around you with the force of the impact. You crumple to the ground, cradling the burns, flinching with each burst of pain. (You must immediately apply one death penalty effect to your hero, see entry 98.)

  Skoll fares no better. The Skard is suffering more than you thought, his actions lacking their usual strength. His charge is more of a stagger, the axe whipping through empty air as the paladin deftly moves around each blow. Then Maune draws out his sword, a short blade notched with angular teeth. They catch the Skard’s axe, twisting it out of his grasp. Maune’s other hand snaps out, fingers catching around Skoll’s throat. There is a flash of light then the Skard is stumbling back, his skin smoking with heat.

  The flat of the blade whips down, striking across Skoll’s chest. On any ordinary day, the half-giant would have shrugged off such a blow. But tired and starved as he is, the strike is enough to send him sprawling to the ground beside you.

  To his credit he recovers quickly, rolling over and snatching up his axe once again. However the eagle, who had previously been content to watch the encounter with a cold indifference, suddenly leaps across the space, wings stretched wide. Its neck darts forward, beak snapping only inches from the Skard, forcing him back against the wall.

  Your eyes flick back to the nearby pack, and its promise of food and water. Life for Anise. You drop your weapons by your side, raising your hands.

  ‘Forgive us, please,’ you gasp, still wincing from your burns. ‘We are hungry, tired. We have another with us, a girl. We need food and water. Please.’

  The paladin barks a command and the bird draws back, still hissing at you with suspicion. ‘I did not take you for thieves. If only you had asked, I would have gladly given.’

  ‘I’m asking now,’ you insist.

  Skoll grumbles something next to you, some curse in Skard. But there is no conviction to it. His shoulders are slumped, resigned to surrender. He uncurls his fingers from around his axe. ‘Food,’ he gasps between breaths. ‘One meal. Then that cursed bird can eat me for all I care.’

  Maune sheathes his blade. ‘Come. Let us attend to your needs, then. The One God provides for all.’ Turn to 21.

  487

  You place the ‘three of swords’ on the discard pile and pick a new stone from the bag. You have gained the ‘two of moons’.

  You have the following stones:

  The monk decides to play his hand. Turn to 593.

  488

  You point to the knife. There are some approving grunts from the crowd, but Desnar looks far from happy. His lips twitch with nervousness, his shifty glare reminding you of a cornered animal.

  ‘Blas lamna sur gas!’ Sura motions impatiently to the warrior.

  Desnar grudgingly offers out his right hand. The moustachioed Skard puts the bone blade to his palm and cuts a deep line.

  ‘Your hand,’ says Sura, nudging your arm.

  You mimic Desnar’s gesture, watching impassively while the same blade is drawn across your own palm. You don’t feel anything – neither the touch of the bone or the pain of its passing. Your dead flesh remains numb to it all. Instead you scan the faces in the crowd, taking some small pleasure from their shocked gasps as they watch the congealed black blood ooze out of the wound.

  Desnar sneers, stepping forward to grasp your hand. His action takes you by surprise, and at first you flinch, drawing back – but then you realise this is part of the ritual. You clasp hands firmly, gripping tight. You glare into each other’s eyes, both tightening your grip, locked together in a silent show of strength. Desnar grinds his teeth, his eyes narrowing. You can almost feel his bones about to snap . . .

  With a hiss he pulls away, making a flourishing gesture to mask his surrender.

  ‘Hallret!’ He barks furiously.

  A Skard hurries to his side, placing a staff into his bloodied hand. It is an impressive looking weapon, fashioned from white wood, with a pair of forked antlers as its headpiece. He raises the staff above his head, turning to the crowd.

  ‘Vic tarnik!’ he chants.

  The words are echoed by several of his men, but with little gusto. Most of the crowd remain intent on you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

  ‘What happens now?’ you whisper to Sura. ‘Do we fight here?’

  The woman shakes her head. ‘You decided the test. Now Desnar will choose the fight. Follow him.’ She bows her head. ‘May the ancestors be with you, southlander.’

  ‘Wait – you aren’t coming with us?’ You look around at the watchful crowd.

  Sura frowns. ‘This is a test, a feud between yourself and Desnar. Only one of you will return with victory. This is the test of the fighter. One of you must submit – or die.’

  The crowd part, leaving you a clear path to the edge of the camp where the ocean of snow sweeps away in rippled waves. Desnar gives you a sly grin, then starts out into the bleak wasteland. You give Sura a hesitant nod, then follow after the Skard. Turn to 702.

  489

  The black plant is spreading quickly across the broken branch, its thorny stem starting to sprout a number of crimson buds. Quickly, you dodge past its flailing vines and start to climb the trunk. Ratatosk gives a shriek of anger, then begins fishing in his pouch again.

  You have almost reached his position when he tosses another seed through the air. It spirals past you towards the growth. You risk a glance over your shoulder, to see that the buds have blossomed into a hungry set of carnivorous mouths. One of them reaches up and snaps the seed from the air. As the plant swallows it there is a thunderous ripping, creaking noise as its stem bulges outwards, spro
uting more vines and leaves.

  You realise that the seeds must be helping the plant to grow.

  ‘Rata-rata-tosk!’ sniggers the squirrel. Then it scampers further up the tree, its bushy tail twitching back and forth. Angrily, you start after it, struggling to stay one step ahead of the grasping vines that are spreading up the trunk. Turn to 35.

  490

  Amongst the broken wood, you find a number of mildewed, moth-eaten clothes. Some appear to carry magical enchantments, their thread and trims glittering with a faint green light.

  If you wish, you may now take one of the following rewards:

  Night shirt Day glow wraps Storm shoulders

  (chest) (gloves) (cloak)

  +1 magic +1 brawn +1 speed

  Ability: charm Ability: radiance Ability: charge

  You also find a key, fashioned from a finger bone and a grisly array of teeth. If you wish to take the skeleton key, simply make a note of it on your hero sheet, it does not take up backpack space.

  Suddenly, the door to your left creaks open of its own accord. From the room beyond you hear a man’s voice, raised in anger. ‘No! I will not serve you, Zabarach! I will not!’ There is a cry of pain, then the sound of metal scraping across stone. Gripping your weapons, you edge slowly into the next room. Turn to 548.

  491

  With the rats defeated, you are free to examine the nest. Amongst the bones and dirty bedding you find 30 gold crowns and two of the following items:

  Chemist’s notes Tome of necromancy Red pills (3 uses)

  (backpack) (backpack) (backpack)

  A tattered book of

  recipes and formula

  (requirement: mage) Use at any time to

  remove one death

  penalty from your hero Use at any time to heal 4

  health

  With little else of interest in the cleft, you crawl back into the cell and resume your journey. Turn to 661.

  492

  You pass between two giant islands, dodging the fragments of rock and earth that spiral around them. One of the larger pieces spins past you, revolving its underside into plain view. Anise is the first to call an alarm, urging you to take notice.

 

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