Suddenly, you see flashes of magic ahead. Something hurtles past in a ball of flames, accompanied by a high-pitched scream. Then the smog begins to thin and you find yourself speeding over a landscape of grey, bulbous flesh. The doom orb.
With a sickening lurch, the carpet veers to the side, missing a tentacle-like appendage by scant inches. The sudden movement throws you off balance, forcing you to grip the edges of the carpet to steady yourself.
Around you, there are explosions of light, as the other mages sweep across the face of the orb, flinging spells at its immense body. But each time the spells hit its flesh, a meshwork of magic flashes into being, causing them to spark and fizzle uselessly. ‘It has a shield!’ you shout above the roar of the wind.
‘I know,’ cries Avian, taking the carpet down towards the surface. ‘The shield is blocking magic. . . but we can get past it.’
A column of black fire bursts out from a crater-sized hole. Avian swerves aside, dodging the blast. Several of the other mages are less lucky however, their carpets slamming into the flames and exploding into balls of spinning light.
‘There!’ Avian points to something below. Squinting through your grime-stained goggles, you see a trench of fatty tissue stretching out across the face of the creature’s body. The floor of the trench is dotted with hundreds of circular holes, some of which are opening and closing, occasionally expelling geysers of gas into the air. ‘One of those should take us through into the brain.’
You do a double-take. ‘Take us through to what?’
The carpet tilts into a sickening series of spins, finally levelling out as one of the open holes speeds towards you. A second later and you are zooming down a circular tunnel, its slime-covered walls streaking past in a pink-white blur.
‘Do you know where you are going?’ you yell hoarsely, aware that you are now inside a vast maze of tunnels, branching out through the innards of the beast.
Avian swerves, guiding the carpet into a smaller side passage, its floor and ceiling pulsing with blue light. ‘We need to follow these neural pulses,’ says Avian, deviating down another passageway where the light is rippling in dazzling halos.
‘I’ve done some crazy things, mage – but this . . .’
As you hurtle deeper into the doom orb, you become aware of an angry buzzing sound, getting louder and louder. Glancing back, you see a swarm of wasp-like creatures in close pursuit. ‘We’ve got company!’
Avian looks back. ‘Sentries. Hold on. We’re almost—’
The mage’s words are cut short as the carpet starts to brake suddenly, throwing you forwards. As you slam into Avian, you look over his shoulder to see what has caused the sudden interruption.
The tunnel ahead is covered by a large pink membrane, its bloated surface branched with veins. As the carpet slides to a halt next to it, you hear a loud hiss from above. Looking up, you see a cluster of tentacles dangling from the ceiling of the tunnel. Each one is secreting a glowing green resin, which starts to mist, forming dense clouds of vapour.
‘Poison!’ gasps Avian, summoning magic to his hands. ‘We need to break through this membrane – quickly!’
‘I think we have bigger problems . . .’ You spin round, as the buzzing sentries swarm closer, their abdomens tapering back into sword-sized stingers. In order to continue deeper into the orb, you will have to overcome its deadly defences:
Special abilities
Endless swarm: The sentries cannot be defeated – as soon as one falls, there is another to take its place. You will need to concentrate on breaking through the membrane.
Poison nodes: At the end of every combat round, if the poison nodes are still alive, you must automatically lose 4 health.
Avian’s aid: You may add 2 to your damage score, for the duration of this combat.
If you win a combat round against the sentries, you can choose to apply your damage to the membrane or the poison nodes (or both, if you have an ability that lets you do so). Once the membrane is reduced to zero health, you have broken through and automatically win the combat.
If you manage to break through the membrane before the sentries and poison defeat you, turn to 877.
922
The anomaly breaks apart into glittering strands of green magic, which streak towards your arm. As they hit the branded flesh, you feel a cold surge of power rush into your body. The magic is old and corrupted, but it is welcome all the same, feeding your muscles and enhancing your senses. When the last of the anomaly has been absorbed, you stumble back, half-gasping and half-laughing at your newfound power.
Lansbury is at your side, regarding you with a mixture of horror and fascination. Nyms on the other hand, is patting you on the back.
‘Nice move,’ he grins. ‘And look – your way of finding secret doors is much more interesting.’
You look up, to see a square opening cut into the stone of the wall, previously covered by the magical growth. Caeleb helps you to your feet, watching you intently from between the slits of his helm.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks. ‘Is that thing . . . inside you now?’
You nod, lifting your arm to reveal the absorbed magic, flickering along the branded mark. Caeleb jerks his head away. ‘It reeks of evil,’ he growls.
‘And it will be the death of you,’ hisses Lansbury, knocking your arm away with her staff. Her face is flushed with both anger and upset. ‘You have no idea of the magic you are playing with!’
Nyms shrugs his shoulders. ‘No complaints here, I don’t have to look at that disgusting snot-beast anymore. Now, what’re we doing people? I say, secret room equals treasure.’
‘And I say, we have more pressing concerns,’ snaps Caeleb. ‘We cannot let Zul’s followers gain the upper hand.’
Will you:
Leave the chamber via the archway? — 902
Investigate the secret room? — 786
923
The apprentice is defeated, his ghoulish creation dropping to the ground in a jumble of blood-flecked bones. Meanwhile, Caeleb is still trading blows with the tutor, who has summoned a black blade into his hands. Deflecting the mage’s desperate strikes with his shield, the cavalier thrusts his sword past the necromancer’s guard, taking him down.
‘Nice work,’ grins Nyms, wandering over. He brushes the wet ash from his leathers. ‘Anyone would think you no longer needed me.’
Caeleb kneels beside the necromancer, wiping his bloody sword against the mage’s robes. ‘And anyone would think a rogue couldn’t dodge a fireball.’ He looks up, his eyes glinting mischievously beneath his helm.
Nyms scowls, rubbing his right shoulder. ‘Yeah, took me a bit by surprise, that’s all.’
You cast a nervous glance over your shoulder, fearful that the battle might have drawn the attention of the bone sentry. But thankfully, there is no sign of the winged abomination. Sheathing your weapons, you search the body of the apprentice. You find 30 gold crowns and may help yourself to one of the following items:
Home brew (2 uses)
Cracked spectacles
Stink bomb (1 use)
(backpack)
(head)
(backpack)
Use any time in combat to raise your magic by 3 for one combat round
+2 speed +2 magic
Use at the start of a combat round to reduce an opponent’s speed by 2 for that round
Ability: focus
If you are a mage, turn to 850. Otherwise, turn to 883.
924
You sprint to the end of the building, then kick off from its edge, soaring effortlessly over the glittering sea of bodies. You twist in mid-air, sending bolts of black fire into the ranks of shadow spawn, your dark magic ripping through their bodies and leaving charred craters in the earth.
As you level out into a dive, you draw your weapons, flipping over at the last moment to land in front of Lansbury’s shield. Surrounding you are the decayers – giant-sized undead; their mummified bodies cloaked in a thick cloud of green noxious gas. Fro
m between the creatures’ damp, rotted bandages, you see worm-like parasites twisting and snaking around their diseased bodies, spewing forth an endless swarm of deadly spores into the foul-smelling air.
‘The spores!’ shouts Lansbury desperately. ‘They explode on contact. Keep them away from the shield!’
With a snarl of fury, you charge into the pestilent undead, hoping to buy time for your companions until help arrives. You must fight:
Special abilities
A swarm of spores:* It takes three combat rounds for the spore cloud to reach the shield. At the end of the third combat round, the shield takes 1 damage for each health point the cloud has remaining. A new cloud is then released (with 40 health), taking 3 rounds to reach the shield (and so on).
Disease: Once you have taken health damage from the decayers, at the end of every combat round you must automatically lose 2 health.
Natural immunity: The spore cloud is immune to all passive effects, such as bleed, burn and venom.
In this combat, you roll against the decayers’ speed. If you win, you can roll for damage against the decayers or the spore cloud (or both, if you have an ability that lets you do so). If you lose the round, then the decayers attack you.
If you manage to survive to the start of the seventh combat round, with Lansbury’s shield still intact (i.e. it still has health), then turn to 832. (Special achievement: If you defeat the decayers before the end of the sixth round with the shield still intact, then turn to 845). If you are defeated, then you may return to an earlier point. Restore your health, then turn to 885.
925
The warrior’s body collapses into a swirling vortex of purple light. Eagerly, you tug back your sleeve and expose your shadow mark to the magic. The runes writhe and twist beneath your skin as they greedily devour the ranger’s essence, healing your wounds and gifting you with even greater power.
If you are a ranger, you may now learn the shadow ranger career (turn to 814). Otherwise, turn to 834.
926
At the foot of the stairs is a small square room. The floors, walls and ceiling are all fashioned from slabs of grey stone, inscribed with neat flowing script. You can feel the air around you pulsing with magic. The mark beneath your skin burns, as if on fire.
‘What is this place?’ you ask hoarsely, the air thick and suffocating.
‘There is some residue of holy magic here,’ says Lansbury, her eyes scanning the walls of engraved lettering. ‘This inscriber knew their art.’
‘Magic for what purpose?’ enquires Nyms, nervously glancing from side to side. ‘Hasn’t done much to stop Zul and his mages.’
Lansbury furrows her brow, leaning closer to a section of the writing. ‘Don’t be so quick to judge, rogue. These were designed to absorb negative energy, to cleanse this place of taint.’
‘Why?’ asks Caeleb sceptically.
‘This tomb was fashioned from magic, cut from the earth using geomancy.’
‘But that is good, right?’ Caeleb traces a line of script with a gloved finger.
‘Not all magic comes from the One God, Caeleb,’ replies the medic.
‘Dwarf magic.’ Nyms raises his twin swords and turns their blades to display their runes. ‘Like these. Thought you holy people frowned on the old magic.’
‘It has its uses, from time to time. These inscriptions are a cleansing rite . . . to repel the demons that are drawn to such things.’ She turns and stares at your arm, which is releasing a thick, dark smoke into the air. You look down at it in bewilderment, feeling suddenly dizzy and nauseous.
‘Is this dwarf magic?’ you croak. Your voice sounds distant . . . detached.
Nyms moves to your side. ‘You don’t look so good.’
Lansbury takes your arm, studying your mark with a mixture of interest and unease. ‘We should move on.’
There are two exits from the room, one to the north – leading onwards into a torch lit passageway – and a narrower side corridor to the east.
Will you:
Take the passage north? — 857
Take the passage east? — 836
927
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. Turn to 828.
928
You awake to find yourself lying on your side. The room is dark and smoky – a vaulted hall lined with flickering oil lamps. A row of alabaster statues stand in silent vigil against one wall, their faces grim-set and mean. Next to them, the dim light catches on the bared ribcage of some ancient beast, its skeleton reconstructed and strung on wires. Its jaws hang open in a silent roar, the blade-sized teeth mirrored in the glass display cases that litter the rest of the dusty space.
‘Oh yes. Be back soon. Oh yes . . .’
You arch your neck, seeking the source of the voice. The man in the red coat is leaning over one of the cases. Shards of glass sparkle on the ground around his feet.
‘Hush, hush. This is the one, yes? Just like he said – just like we thought.’ He lifts out a rectangular shield, its lower end tapering to a point. He holds it awkwardly, turning it over in his hands. ‘Are we sure? The sun, sun, sun.’ He scratches the back of his head, where you see his grey hair balding around an ugly scar. ‘Yes, like he said. Be back soon. So soon, pretty thing.’
He twists something set in the shield. There is a loud click, echoing in the empty chamber. Carefully, the man lifts a golden disc from out of the shield, fashioned to resemble a sun. He puts the shield aside and holds the disc aloft, gazing at its underside. ‘Lily, lily, lotus . . . lily, lily, lotus.’ The man licks his lips, chuckling to himself as he turns it round, seemingly counting patterns carved into the gold. ‘Lily, lily, lotus . . . ah.’ He touches something. There is a spark of magic and suddenly the disc begins to twist and fold in on itself, the sculptured rays of the sun forming the petals of a golden flower. Reaching into his coat, the man produces an ivory-and-gold rod which he slides into a hole beneath the head-piece, forming a wand-like staff. It flickers with golden light as soon as the two pieces connect.
‘I was right,’ the man sighs, shaking his head. His voice hints at disappointment. ‘More magic. Need more . . .’
You realise you still have your weapons. Gingerly, you shift your weight, preparing to spring at the man while he is still unawares. But even making this minuscule movement causes the man to flinch.
‘I hear you. Scrape, scrape, scraping. Sound is so very loud. So very loud.’ He spins round, his long coat snapping around his gaunt frame. ‘Breathing much softer. Calm. Softer.’ The man raises a finger and shakes it in a reprimanding fashion. ‘You’re not doing things you’re supposed to.’
You realise that the man is clearly deranged. But there is something familiar about him. A thin scar cuts down his left cheek, disfiguring his mouth into a perpetual sneer. Resting against his forehead is a gold crown, shaped to resemble three entwined serpents.
‘Who are you?’ you rasp hoarsely. ‘Why did you bring me here?’
‘Many name, name, names,’ he replies, his eyes glittering in the glow from the staff. ‘In the shroud, the name doesn’t matter, not so much. But . . . Lorcan . . . that’s what they used to call me.’ He points a trembling finger in your direction. ‘And you. You’re important because I have to kill you.’
Will you:
&n
bsp; Ask why he has to kill you? — 937
Ask if he is a Nevarin, like yourself? — 934
Ask about the staff’s purpose? — 873
Ask about Daarko’s strange machine? — 819
Attack this deranged mage? — 939
929
The dark warrior is a powerful opponent, bolstered by the healing of his necromantic minions. The deadly black axes slice through the dusty air, leaving streaks of crackling magic in their wake. But you are a Nevarin, fast and agile, your own powers heightened by the shadow mark that burns bright against your skin. While your allies are forced back by the warrior’s unstoppable fury, you see an opening and spring forward, catching the flat of one of his sweeping blades and leaping again, to somersault behind him. Before the warrior has a chance to turn and defend himself, you strike with the full power of your strength and magic.
The warrior falls to his knees, his axes sparking and then winking out of existence. With a final pained gasp, the dark warrior vanishes, the armour clattering to the floor, empty.
Caeleb walks over and prods the runed armour with his foot, pushing the breastplate over to reveal an engraved insignia – a chalice, surrounded by a circle of seven stars.
‘Arthurian’s coat of arms . . .’ He shakes his head grimly. ‘We were too late.’
Lansbury wrinkles her nose as she examines the armour. ‘I don’t think what we fought today was Arthurian. It was something else . . . something that was using his body.’
Caeleb’s expression hardens, his eyes coming to rest on the shattered remains of Arthurian’s tomb. ‘Zul will pay for this sacrilege.’
Lowering your weapons, you step over the rubble to search the bodies of Zul’s followers. You find 50 gold crowns and may help yourself to one of the following rewards:
Twilight claw
Black widow
Stolen hope
Legion of Shadow Page 61
