822
At the end of the corridor, another passageway branches to the left, ending in a statue of a knight, his head bowed. In the wall facing you is an open doorway, leading through into a small high-ceilinged room.
‘Arthurian’s treasure vault,’ you state dourly, stepping through into the cobwebbed space. All of its treasures are now gone, stolen by thieves or by Zul’s minions.
‘This is a dead end,’ growls Caeleb, gesturing to the statue at the end of the passageway. ‘We’ll have to go back.’
‘Hmm . . .’ Lansbury raises her staff and walks forwards towards the knight. Her white light picks out its detailed features – a young man, with a fringe of hair curling out from beneath a chainmail coif. His eyes are closed, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword. Lansbury leans closer, then reaches forward with a finger, pushing the stone at the centre of the sword’s guard. There is a click followed by a deep rumbling, as the statue slides back into a hidden recess, revealing a secret archway in the wall.
‘Good find,’ grins Nyms, nodding with approval.
Caeleb shoulders through the group. ‘Let’s finish this,’ he murmurs. Turn to 842.
823
You follow Nyms, knowing that the swordsman is worryingly outnumbered by the necromancers. However, a blast of black light sears down from the sky, slamming into the ground and sending you reeling backwards. Another series of blasts pepper the courtyard, spraying you with dirt and black ash.
‘Look to the roof! There’s a ranger!’
Through the rain and dust, you see Nyms cutting his way through a group of shades, summoned by one of the mages. You tear your eyes away, quickly scanning the roof of the tomb . . . as another blast of black fire hurtles in your direction.
You dodge aside, as the spell rips past you and slams into the stone tablet, leaving a charred fracture running across its base. Turning back to the fray, you notice that the blasts are coming from a small balcony set above the door of the tomb.
Quickly, you race towards the steps that lead into the building, but are drawn up short when you see that the pillars either side of the entrance are now glowing with purple light, casting a flickering barrier across the doorway.
There is a cry from behind you. Turning you see that Nyms is now surrounded by shades. Two of the necromancers have already fallen to the rogue’s blades, but the remaining two have now retreated behind a pillar of stone, summoning further spells to bring down the swordsman.
More blasts tear into the ground; one of which hits Nyms and sends him sprawling backwards into the ash. He is quickly on his feet again, wincing with pain, as the shades rush in to attack.
‘Any help would be appreciated!’ he scowls, slicing his magical blades through the ghostly apparitions.
Your shadow mark courses with dark magic, heightening your senses and bolstering your strength. In an agile blur of cold fury, you charge into the black-robed mages, cutting them down before they have a chance to retaliate.
Leaping over their smouldering bodies, you hurtle onwards, towards the stone tablet. Its base is now fractured and crumbling; the neat inscriptions broken by zigzagging cracks. Throwing your strength and magic against the stone you break through the last of its shaky foundations.
You dodge out of the raining rubble, as the immense tablet topples forward towards the domed building. Swiftly, you leap onto its topside and race forward along its length. At the last possible moment, you kick off from your makeshift bridge and dive through the air – landing agilely on the narrow balcony to face your surprised assailant. Turn to 784.
824
Ravenwing rallies his men, pushing them deep into the ranks of the shadow spawn. Their dark general has fallen – and already they seem to have lost their edge, their ranks becoming confused and ill-disciplined. They are no match for Ravenwing’s militia: drilled to the limits of perfection, flowing from defensive shield formations into penetrative wedges of whirling death in an instant, giving the black guard no mercy, no chance for retaliation.
You are about to rejoin the battle when a deafening boom rips out across the sky, throwing you to your knees. For a moment, you cower, as the noise continues to bear down on you, almost a physical thing that pummels against your body, throbbing in your ears.
Then black snow begins to fall, settling across the blood-streaked ground. You look up to see that the doom orb is no more – where it had been hanging in the sky, there is now only a huge black cloud of ash, as big as an entire city.
‘The mages did it,’ you gasp. ‘They destroyed the orb.’
There are cheers from all around you, as the resistance realise that their victory is now assured. For the shadow spawn, it appears they have arrived at a similar conclusion. Shrieking and wailing, the demoralised rabble turns and runs, scrabbling across the square like a dark plague of rats. Ravenwing’s men are already finding their feet, quickly forming up again and ready to give chase. If you have the word rival on your hero sheet, turn to 858. If you have the word companion, turn to 918. If you have the word apprentice, turn to 907.
825
The anomaly’s sparkling strands are almost hypnotic, blurring into intricate patterns of light as they dance before your vision. Mesmerised by its gentle radiance, you find yourself moving closer and closer, until you are almost touching its glowing, rhythmic form.
Then, in an instant, the web-like strands wrap around you, encasing you in a suffocating prison. There is a scream from somewhere behind you – then you are enveloped in a white light. You feel yourself falling forwards. Frantically, you put out your hands to cushion your fall, but there is nothing to hold on to – the space is empty, featureless. Then there is a rush of cold air followed by another flash.
You land heavily on your stomach, the air punched from your lungs. Rolling onto your back, you gasp for air, your whole body trembling.
‘Lansbury?’ you croak.
There is no answer.
Something is wrong . . . different.
As you push yourself up, you realise that you are in the same chamber, but it has somehow changed. It is darker, night time – the rough-hewn walls cut by shadows of flickering torch light. Rain pours in torrents from the open shaft, the rain glittering as lightning flashes overhead.
You catch the sound of dirt being scraped beneath a boot heel . . .
Agilely, you spring to your feet, your weapons drawn and ready.
In the corner of the room, a figure is watching you. They have one hand around a lantern and the other gripping a jewelled dagger.
‘Who are you?’ he snarls, his voice shaking with anger. ‘Are you more spirits to punish me?’ A peal of maddened laughter echoes around the chamber. ‘Yes, yes. You are here to test me. Test my faith.’
He cautiously circles around you, a flash of lightning picking out his grime-stained features. The man is thin and wan, clad in a tattered black coat. It hangs open, revealing the faded remnants of a military uniform. Between his long and ragged hair, you catch a cruel smile.
‘Did you think I would fail?’ he spits with scorn. ‘I am a great man. I was not born to this.’ He holds out his dagger, his hand shaking. ‘I can cut you, yes – yes. Do you bleed, spirit?’
You glance past the stranger, towards the entranceway in the far wall. It appears to be blocked by something. There is no sign of the skeleton or your companions.
Will you:
Attack the stranger? — 867
Try and convince him you mean no harm? — 889
Demand to know what he is doing here? — 910
826
Your magic spears into the brain, sending its grey matter spraying in all directions. Then the chamber begins to shake violently, throwing you from side to side. Desperately, you struggle back to Avian’s side, slipping and sliding as the ground continues to tremble. Taking hold of the unconscious mage, you summon a shield with the last reserves of Daarko’s stolen magic. . .
Then the chamber explodes, throwing you out into
empty space.
All around you, black smoke and debris whirl through the air, accompanied by a deafening boom of thunder. Then you are falling at tremendous speed, buffeted by strong winds – and the giant wads of charred flesh that slam against your shield. For several minutes you are caught in a spin. When you finally manage to right yourself, you see the city of Talanost stretching far, far below, like a grimy black stain across the landscape.
Your shield stutters and fails, winking out in a flurry of sparks. Clinging to Avian, you continue to drop through the smoggy clouds, plummeting towards the ruined rooftops. Even with your supernatural abilities, you doubt you will survive such a fall.
Below you, the market square tilts into view. The shadow spawn appear to be routing, scampering like a plague of rats through the narrow streets of the city. Ravenwing’s men follow close on their heels, slashing and blasting at their fleeing enemy. It is a sight that brings some small satisfaction – the legion’s attempt to wrest control of the city has clearly failed.
The buildings are rising towards you now at an unsettling speed. You close your eyes, bracing for impact, wondering – in these final moments – if Avian is the lucky one, not to have witnessed this ignoble end. The mage is still slumped in your arms, his head lolling against your chest.
Then some force hits you with the power of a sledgehammer. You are dragged sideways, away from the jagged rooftop that would surely have spelled your end. Twisting round, you try and see what has a hold of you, but there is nothing there. And yet, you can feel something pressing in on you, holding you in a constricted bubble. Then the force is gone and you are falling the rest of the way, slamming down into the dusty street. From your shadow mark, a purple light flows quickly across your broken body, mending the splintered bones and torn muscle.
You slide out from beneath Avian, staggering back to your feet. Amongst the smoking mounds of rubble, you spy some of the doom orb’s pulpy remains. You may now help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Thalamus tiara
Cortical bulb
Stria of Genna
(head)
(left hand: wand)
(ring)
+2 speed +5 magic
+3 speed +5 magic
+1 magic +2 armour
Ability: haste
Ability: brain drain
Ability: shock!
A rattle of armour forces you to turn. Someone is stumbling through the mist towards you. If you have the word rival on your hero sheet turn to 896. Otherwise, turn to 901.
827
You absorb the tomb robber’s essence, delighting in the wave of ecstasy that washes over you. (You may raise your brawn or magic score by 2 in your next combat.) Kneeling beside the robber’s empty clothes, you search through his meagre belongings. You find 50 gold crowns and the following items, which you may take:
Shallow grave
Oil flask (2 uses)
(left hand: dagger)
(backpack)
+2 speed +3 brawn
Set alight and throw at your opponent, causing 2 dice of damage ignoring armour. Use instead of rolling for a damage score
Ability: savagery
As you straighten, your eyes catch on the magic anomaly lurking across the other side of the room. Somehow, the creature must have brought you back in time. Looking over to the room’s exit, you see the mould-covered anomaly covering the other side of the doorway, exactly as it had before. The robber had obviously been trapped here, unable to escape – his skeleton was the one that you found in the room.
Up above, the storm vents its fury, the rainwater bouncing and spraying from the walls of the rough-hewn shaft. Pulling your hood down low over your face, you step through the curtain of water and approach the time-shifting anomaly.
As before, the magical creature suddenly springs to life, its silken threads snapping around you. You cry out in pain, as the air is crushed from your lungs, the powerful tendrils gripping you tightly as they drag you forwards, towards a brightening white light. Turn to 820.
828
Avian drops his shield with a pained gasp. You rush to his side, putting an arm out to support him. He bats you away impatiently. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ Frantically, he begins rummaging around in his robes, his gaze fixed on the gargantuan doom orb which still floats above the city.
‘Ah, yes!’ The mage pulls out a small square of patterned cloth. With a flick of the wrist, he sends the cloth billowing outwards – its length rapidly unfurling into a full-sized magic carpet. ‘We can’t leave the doom orb unchallenged!’ He steps onto the carpet, then offers out his hand. ‘If your magic is strong, I could use your aid.’
If you have a magic score of 24 or above, you may accompany Avian Dale. (Turn to 921.) Otherwise, you decline Avian’s offer, wishing to focus your efforts on the ground battle. (Turn to 890.)
829
Fetch brushes the dust from his robes. ‘I am the only one of my kind, as far as I know. My gift is unique – I was born with it.’
‘You can travel wherever you want?’ you ask in wonder.
‘Not exactly,’ he says, looking up and meeting your gaze. ‘I must have a connection with the place.’
‘But if you travel through the shroud, then aren’t you . . .’
Fetch nods, offering you a knowing smile. ‘Yes, I am more demon now than man. Each time I travel I lose a little more of my humanity. But it is a small price to pay. I think you will agree?’ His eyes flick to your shadow mark, a cruel sneer visible beneath the shadows of his hood.
Turn to 792 to ask another question.
830
You find Waldo at the edge of the camp. He is sitting on a stool beside his tethered pony, picking stones from its hooves with a hooked knife. When he sees you approach, he quickly gets to his feet, brushing himself down.
‘Can’t keep away, can you? Let me guess, you traded in that annoying swordsman at last?’
You pat the jingling pouch hanging at your belt. ‘Ha, you really think I’d get this much for him?’
Waldo’s eyes widen. ‘The spoils of war, eh?’ He quickly hops onto the seat of his cart to retrieve the magical chest.
To view the trader’s special deals, turn to 815 if you are a warrior, 839 if you are a rogue or 914 if you are a mage. For the rarer and more expensive items, turn to 803 if you are a warrior, 903 if you are a rogue or 881 if you are a mage.
831
At the end of the corridor, another passageway branches to the left, ending in a statue of a knight, his head bowed. In the wall facing you is an immense door, fashioned from ivory and gold. Each of its panels has been intricately decorated, depicting a number of embossed scenes. As you edge closer, you see that they all feature a knight on horseback, battling a nightmarish menagerie of fearsome monsters. In the centre of the door is a gold circle and inset within it is an ivory chalice.
‘Where does this lead to?’ you ask in wonderment.
Lansbury moves her light closer to the door. ‘These panels depict scenes from Arthurian legend. This could be the entrance to his tomb – or a treasure vault perhaps.’
Nyms places a hand against the centre of the door and pushes against it. Nothing happens. He looks back at the group with a meekish smile. ‘OK, it was worth a try.’
‘How does this open?’ snaps Caeleb impatiently, glancing at Lansbury. ‘Some magic?’
Lansbury steps back, her eyes quickly roving across the door’s surface. ‘I sense magic here – very old magic. But clearly Zul’s followers couldn’t open it . . . or they never made it this far.’
‘Then this is a dead end,’ growls Caeleb, gesturing to the statue at the end of the passageway. ‘We’ll have to go back.’
‘Hmm . . .’ Lansbury raises her staff and walks towards the knight.
Her white light picks out its detailed features – a young man, with a fringe of hair curling out from beneath a chainmail coif. His eyes are closed, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword. Lansbury leans clo
ser; then reaches forward with a finger, pushing the stone at the centre of the sword’s guard. There is a click followed by a deep rumbling, as the statue slides back into a hidden recess, revealing a secret archway in the wall.
‘Good find,’ grins Nyms, nodding with approval.
Caeleb shoulders through the group. ‘Let’s finish this,’ he murmurs. Turn to 790.
832
(Make a note of the word companion on your hero sheet.)
Forced back against the shield, you are uncertain how long you will be able to hold off against these fearsome adversaries. Suddenly, a bright flash of light draws your attention skywards. From out of the smog, you see white shapes swooping down over the ruined city, their vapour trails blazing bright like comets. Beneath them, a series of explosions swell out across the square, cutting a vicious swathe through the tightly-packed ranks of shadow spawn.
‘The airborne regulars!’ You punch the air as the mages hurtle past on their flying carpets.
Then, at the far side of the square, you hear the resonating blast of a horn. From your vantage point, it is difficult to see through the thronging masses, but it looks like a battalion of Ravenwing’s militia have made it across the city. You catch the glimmer of polished armour and a fluttering standard, proudly displaying the black raven. Aid has finally arrived.
For your victory over the decayers, you may now help yourself to the following reward:
Spore bombs (1 use)
(backpack)
Sporelicious destruction!
Ability: spore cloud
When you have updated your character sheet, turn to 895.
833
The rain falls in relentless grey sheets, pounding the ash-covered ground and spattering off your cloak and hood. The mist that once afforded you cover has now dispersed, forcing your party to use the cover of the outlying tombs.
Legion of Shadow Page 52
