Legion of Shadow

by Michael J. Ward

  ‘Nyms, wait!’ Lansbury calls after him, but the swordsman shows no sign of slowing, his magical blades deflecting the necromancers’ incoming blasts. ‘We need to stay together!’

  Another guttural screech draws your attention skywards. Above you, the bone creature wheels in the air, its immense body blotting out the sky and drowning you in shadow. Caeleb moves in front of Lansbury, raising his shield as the beast dives towards them.

  Will you:

  Help Nyms battle the necromancers? — 823

  Help defeat the bone angel? — 849

  798

  Bonus quest: The betrayed

  You crouch at the edge of the rooftop, studying the ashen wasteland that was once Talanost. The city lies utterly still. Only smoke moves, curling between the charred rafters of the burnt out buildings. In the street below, a lone knight appears from a rubble-choked alley, guiding his steed with care through the ravaged ruins. The beast’s hooves clatter on the loose stone and masonry, its breath snorting clouds into the cold, morning air.

  You turn away, your gaze shifting across the formless wreckage, to finally rest on the mansion – its white-washed walls untouched by the devastation that surrounds it. Your shadow mark tingles, its icy fingers crawling beneath your skin. Since you absorbed Sharroth’s power, the mark has been a constant irritation – an itch that refuses to be scratched. You glare down at it angrily, knowing what it wants. What it desires.

  ‘I can’t wait any longer,’ you state grimly. ‘They’re here; I feel them.’

  Your companion shifts nervously beside you. His usual garb has been replaced by wraps of grey and black cloth, turning him near invisible against the wasted backdrop of the city.

  ‘We were told to wait,’ he replies, his hood shifting to reveal a thin face, pointed and angular. ‘It’s not wise to upset Mathis.’

  You grunt with derision, the buzzing from your arm becoming more insistent. ‘The fool will only get in the way.’

  Nyms sighs. ‘I know. Once your course is set, you seldom give ear to counsel.’ He pauses for a moment. ‘In truth, your nature has rarely led us awry.’

  ‘Nor will it.’ Your eyes remain rooted to the mansion. Every shred of evidence, every clue that you have scavenged over the last few days, has led you to this place – the last bastion of the enemy. ‘But why here?’ you mutter to yourself, frowning. The building is nothing special, save that it is perfectly intact. Around it, the other estates have fared less well, their broken remains stabbing like claws into the ashen sky.

  ‘I’ve seen worse neighbourhoods,’ grins Nyms. ‘Real shame the king didn’t stick around to enjoy the sightseeing. ’

  You favour him with a bitter laugh. ‘Ah yes, the king . . .’

  A week has passed since the king’s army broke camp and rode home, leaving yourself and Ravenwing’s militia to pick up the pieces. ‘Cleansing the city,’ Mathis had called it, making it sound a noble and grandiose task. But the reality quickly proved otherwise – long days scrabbling across rubble, wading through miles of stinking sewers and dark catacombs, hunting for every last shadow spawn that survived the battle. Some of them talked, before their life was ended. Those that still had some humanity, at least.

  Cleansing the city. Not the great heroic ending that you had imagined – but then, your disappointments have been many. After closing the gate, you assumed you would be heralded a champion, given a seat at the king’s side, showered with gold and glory – and respect. But at the feast, the king never deigned to acknowledge you; his men treated you with the same suspicion and contempt as the others.

  A Nevarin. Stained by the past. By what you were. . .

  What you still are.

  ‘I’m tired of waiting.’ You rise to your feet, finding balance on the shattered rooftop. Across the avenue, the spiked wall of the mansion looms arrogantly before you, an imposing height of sheer stone and barbed iron. It might deter some thieves, perhaps. But not you.

  Magic sparks at your fingertips as you contemplate blasting your way through, ripping each and every spike from their very foundations. But you clench your fist, letting the magic dissipate. ‘Let’s do it your way, Nyms.’

  ‘Ah, appreciated at last.’ He levels a crossbow, aiming for the gnarled yellowwood tree that dominates the courtyard. A click of the trigger sends the bolt streaking through the air, its course marked by the glittering rope that trails behind it. There is a thud as the bolt embeds itself deep into the body of the tree, stretching the rope taut. You follow its length to where the rope has been securely knotted around an exposed gable post. ‘Is that thing seriously going to hold our weight?’ you ask, scratching your chin.

  ‘Providing you laid off the king’s pies,’ smiles Nyms, slapping your stomach with the back of his hand. ‘Watch and learn.’

  Nyms grabs the rope, swinging beneath it to hook his boots over the top. Then he proceeds to scurry across, moving hand over hand with practised ease. You watch tensely as the rope and wood creak in protest. But the make-shift bridge appears to be holding.

  The nimble swordsman passes over the spiked wall and then drops into the courtyard below with barely a whisper of noise. You follow suit, hooking both legs over the rope and shimmying along its length. A minute later and you have joined your companion in the courtyard, weapons drawn and ready.

  A set of stairs lead up to a pillared porch, where a pair of cedarwood doors offer an obvious route inside the mansion. You are about to start towards them, when you feel a touch on your arm. Nyms nods towards the second storey, where a wrought iron balustrade juts out from the wall. Between its bars, you see what the sharp-eyed rogue has spotted: a half-open window leading though into the interior of the house.

  Will you:

  Enter the mansion through the main doors? — 932

  Climb up to the second floor balcony? — 835

  799

  You enter a vast pillared hall, bathed in a pale white light. Squinting up, you see that the light is coming from a cluster of crystals suspended from the ceiling. Below them, the paved floor is smashed and broken, as if something heavy has repeatedly pounded against the stonework. Amongst the jagged rubble, a few tiles remain unbroken, their surface covered in a spidery script. Had the stones been left undamaged, these decorative runes would have formed a perfect circle.

  ‘Holy inscriptions,’ says Lansbury. ‘Much of their magic is broken, but you still feel it, don’t you?’ Her eyes remain forward, but it is obvious who she is speaking to.

  ‘Yes,’ you grimace. The pain from your shadow mark has intensified, forcing you to stagger. Caeleb puts out an arm to stop you.

  ‘What is it?’ he asks worriedly.

  You shake your head, confused.

  ‘I mean that.’ Caeleb nods towards the curtain of light, where a dark shape is moving at the far side of the shattered flagstones. A guttural growl echoes in the hall.

  ‘Why is nothing ever easy,’ sighs Nyms, casting a wary glance towards the pillars either side of the room. ‘Watch for an ambush, Nevarin.’

  ‘I don’t think we need worry about subtlety,’ says Lansbury grimly.

  The dark shape shuffles forward into the light. The radiance picks out its huge hunched shoulders and thick arms. Even from a distance you can see that the creature is a giant, at least seven metres tall. Its pale, almost translucent skin, is covered in purple runes – sharing a stark similarity to those that now burn bright along your arm.

  ‘Well, that’s a new one,’ mutters Nyms, spinning his blades. ‘Something from your world, Nevarin?’

  You take an uncertain step back as the creature lurches forward on bowed legs, its wide gash of a mouth drooling spit onto the shattered floor.

  Suddenly, with a speed that belies its ungainly form, the creature snatches up a broken tile and sends it hurtling towards the group. Caeleb raises his shield just in time – the stone breaking against its surface sending fragments showering in all directions.

  Then the ground trembles as the g
iant beast charges forward.

  Quickly, your party breaks for cover, moving aside as the beast thunders past. Skidding to a halt, the giant spins round with startling quickness, its enormous fists swinging through the air.

  Caeleb rushes to meet it, blocking its powerful blows against his shield. Nyms and Lansbury circle the creature’s flanks, preparing to deliver their own offensive. As you move to aid them, something leaps out from the darkness and slams into your side. Startled, you are flung against one of the pillars, as an agile shadowstalker, clad in night-black leathers, swings twin swords in your direction. You duck beneath the attack, the swords slashing through the stone as if it was paper.

  Rolling to the side, you spring to your feet, as the shadowstalker advances.

  ‘You are the one who has turned away from shadow,’ hisses a woman’s voice from behind the black, polished mask. ‘You are not worthy to bear the shadow mark.’

  ‘Then try and take it from me,’ you growl. Turn to 904.

  800

  Fetch clenches his fists angrily. ‘I was too late! Avian sent me there to find an artefact – a talisman. He was fearful it might fall into Zul’s hands. The necromancers must already have it!’

  Fetch lowers his shaking hands with a heavy sigh. ‘It is no matter. Zul will be crushed. Avian will see to that.’

  ‘He sent me on a mission also,’ you state, remembering back to that fateful moment in Talanost, amidst the chaos and destruction. ‘I have to stop him from closing the gate. If he tries, he will fail.’

  Fetch’s eyes widen. ‘Really? How interesting. I’ll deliver your message myself, if I am not already too late. Although, Avian is rarely turned from a course of action, once he sets his mind to it.’

  Turn to 792 to ask another question.

  801

  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:

  Wrecking ball

  Primal gauntlets

  Beast’s harness

  (left hand: club)

  (gloves)

  (chest)

  +2 speed +5 brawn

  +1 speed +4 brawn

  +2 speed +4 armour

  Ability: demolish

  Ability: merciless

  Ability: knockdown

  When you have made your decision, turn to 824.

  802

  Lansbury’s warning forces you to hesitate. A second later and the dark-robed assassin has vanished, leaving behind a scorched circle on the ground where he was once standing.

  ‘Who was that?’ asks Nyms suspiciously. ‘You knew him?’

  You shake your head. ‘Our paths have crossed, but, as for his motives . . . I wonder what he was searching for?’

  ‘We should have stopped him!’ snaps Caeleb angrily, stepping over the debris. He bends down and picks up a sword, turning it over in the flickering light. ‘They have no respect for the dead or the living.’

  You turn to Lansbury with an accusatory stare. ‘Why did you stop me?’

  The medic looks startled by your tone. ‘Why else – he reeked of the old magic. Whatever that creature is, it is no concern of ours.’

  ‘Well, he clearly wanted something badly enough to fight for it.’ You pick your way over to the black-robed bodies, lying amongst the knight’s ransacked belongings. Searching the mages you find 50 gold crowns and may help yourself to one of the following:

  Dark therapy

  Ghoulish gloop (2 uses)

  Bewitched boots

  (talisman)

  (backpack)

  (feet)

  +1 speed

  Use any time in combat to raise your armour by 2 for the duration of the combat

  +2 speed +2 magic

  Ability: regrowth

  Ability: dominate

  When you have made your decision, turn to 793.

  803

  ‘Really?’ The trader gives a low whistle. ‘Want to be a great warrior of legend, eh? Well, I reckon these are exactly what you need.’ He reaches inside the chest and produces three items, which he lays carefully before you. ‘Now, in the right hands,’ he catches your eye, his mouth twisting into a smile, ‘they could win you a war. Tell me, how can anyone put a price on that?’ He rubs his jaw thoughtfully. ‘It pains me but, 900 gold crowns? Yes, that’s a fair price. Risked my life for those little beauties.’

  You may purchase any of the following items for 900 gold crowns each:

  Raider’s tunic

  Talanost’s wall

  Mortuary gauntlets

  (chest)

  (left-hand: shield)

  (gloves)

  +2 speed +4 brawn

  +2 speed +5 armour

  +1 speed +3 armour

  Ability: retaliation

  Ability: deflect

  Ability: acid

  After you have made your decision, you can ask to see Waldo’s special deals (turn to 815) or bid the trader farewell (turn to 789).

  804

  You race along the tunnel, passing the broken remains of Arthurian’s lantern. As the passageway widens into a circular chamber, you suddenly experience a wave of nausea. You stagger, falling to your knees, your vision blurred.

  ‘What’s happening?’ you croak hoarsely.

  From somewhere up ahead you hear the crack of magic and someone crying out in pain. Gritting your teeth, you push yourself back to your feet. A white light lurches into view as you stumble onwards, its radiance is almost blinding.

  You stagger and fall, your strength rapidly ebbing away. From your mark, you feel a terrible burning. Again, you struggle to rise, another flash of magic illuminating the space around you.

  As you regain your feet, you see that you are standing in a large runed circle. At its centre is a glowing white figure – an angel, with immense wings arching out from its flowing robes. The face is that of a wizened old man, his features drawn into a scowl of rage. ‘Be gone, infidels!’

  Arthurian is on his knees, gasping for air. ‘These are holy inscriptions,’ he rasps. ‘They are weakening us. Try and break . . . the seals.’

  ‘You cannot trespass here!’ booms the angel, its pale form flickering like a ghostly flame.

  ‘What is this?’ you wheeze, struggling to focus.

  ‘It’s the master architect,’ pants Arthurian. ‘Part of him, part of his soul remains here to guard the tomb . . .’

  The angel throws backs its arms, summoning white flames into the palms of its hands. ‘By holy light, I smite thee!’

  You throw yourself into a dive, as the flames smash into the ground, sending stone fragments flying through the air. As the dust clears, you catch sight of a raised rune, glowing with white light. You notice two more, gleaming at the edges of the circle.

  ‘Break the seals,’ cries Arthurian, stumbling breathlessly to his feet. ‘It is the only way!’

  Special abilities

  Holy flame: The seal of flame adds 4 to the architect’s damage score.

  Holy circle: At the end of every combat round, the circle heals the architect for 4 health. (Note: This ability cannot take the architect above his starting health of 80.)

  Holy shield: Once the seal of the shield has been reduced to zero health, the architect’s armour is lowered to 8 for the remainder of the combat.

  If you win a combat round, you can choose to strike the architect or one of the seals. If you destroy a seal, its ability no longer applies.

  If you defeat this ghostly guardian, turn to 812. If you are defeated, turn to 796.

  805

  With the golem defeated, your attention turns to Fetch, who is struggling to unlock a wooden door at the end of the room. He is cursing and muttering to himself, casting desperate glances over his shoulder. With a grim smile, you advance on the assassin.

  ‘Going somewhere, Fetch?

  There is the click of a lock. But it is too late . . .

  You rush forward, slamming into the b
lack-robed man and pinning him against the door.

  ‘Don’t try any of that magic business,’ you growl in his ear. ‘I’m done with the little excursions.’

  ‘I couldn’t if I wanted to,’ spits the assassin. ‘My magic is spent . . .’

  ‘Good.’ You spin him around to face you, peering intently into the shadows of his black hood. ‘Now, I want some answers, Fetch’.

  If you have the words black book written on your hero sheet, turn to 913. Otherwise turn to 810.

  806

  The endless rain drums against the floor of the cavern, splashing on the uneven rocks and forming ever-deepening pools of muddy water. You huddle in your cloak, shivering uncontrollably. You wish it was just the cold that was making you tremble, but deep down you know it is the result of your craving – the need to absorb more magic.

  At the other side of the room, the shadow energy has started to coalesce, moulding itself back into a human shape. Once formed, the ghost drifts back into the robber’s clothing, fleshing out its grime-stained folds.

  There is a staccato flash of lightning.

  When the brightness abates, you see that the robber is now lying on the ground – perfectly healed. With a gasp, he sits up, reaching instinctively for his throat.

  You step forward, holding up his silver crucifix. ‘Looking for something?’ you ask.

  The robber stumbles to his feet, his expression confused. ‘Why do you still haunt me?’ he mutters, shaking his head. ‘Why do you test me?’

  You throw the crucifix at his feet, watching as he scrabbles in the muddy water to retrieve it. ‘Show me your arm.’

  The robber looks up, a single crazed eye peering at you through long tangles of hair. ‘What?’