You twist around, concentrating on freeing your weapons. All around you the air is alive with whipping, snake-like roots. They are coming from the centre of the pool, where a giant toad-like head has surfaced.
‘I start ritual. Stay calm. It’ll be all right.’ Boom Mamba places both hands on his staff and begins chanting.
‘Stay calm?’ you sputter angrily, wrestling to free yourself from the tangled roots.
Then the creature’s mouth yawns open, presenting an immense chasm of foul-stinking darkness. For one horrible moment you ponder your fate – being dragged down into those fathomless, watery depths. Then fear gives you strength. You raise your weapons and begin hacking at the constricting roots, determined not to become this monster’s next meal. It is time to fight:
Special abilities
Feeding time: The roots are slowly dragging you towards Gaia’s gaping maw. If they are not defeated by the end of the third round of combat, then Gaia will swallow you up! You automatically take 15 damage (you may use armour to absorb some/all of this) before you are spat out. The roots then heal back to full health (or new roots are created, if the others were defeated) and the process begins again: you have three combat rounds to defeat the new roots before you are dragged inside Gaia’s worm-filled mouth once more. This cycle repeats for the duration of the battle.
If you win a combat round against Gaia, you can choose to attack Gaia or the roots. Once Gaia is defeated, the combat is automatically won.
If you manage to defeat this fearsome elemental, turn to 516. If you are defeated, you may return to 510 to choose a different foe to battle.
385
You put your hands to the wheel and push. For the first few seconds you find yourself grunting with exertion, your boots sliding across the metal floor as you struggle to move it. Then it gives a teeth-grating screech as it slowly begins to turn, grinding against the rust and grime that has gathered around the axle. After pushing it round a full turn, you hear a rumbling coming from your left, followed by a loud clunk. Glancing around, you see that a glowing portal has now appeared against the north wall. It looks similar to the doorway that you used to escape from the fire demon.
Will you:
Step through the magic portal? — 395
Turn the wheel anti-clockwise? — 405
386
You follow Andos through an opulent-looking hall, into a small windowless backroom. Books and crates crowd in around a rickety writing desk and stool – and a single sad-looking candle that provides the only source of light. From the reek of stagnant water and the various buckets and mops resting against the far wall, you suspect that the man has hired out the mansion’s broom cupboard. Andos drops his books in an unceremonious heap on the floor, wincing as he rubs his aching shoulders.
‘Some tea, Andos,’ scowls the scholar irritably, waving him away. ‘Then back to cataloguing. And see if you can’t get some driftwood – knock up a shelf or two.’
The youth gives a dispirited mumble, before leaving to attend to his master’s needs.
The scholar tuts, shaking his head. ‘Youth of today. No respect for their elders.’ He perches on the stool, rifling through the charts and maps on the desk. After some time, you wonder if he has simply forgotten you are there.
‘Your charts, sir,’ you enquire, shaking the crumpled papers that you are holding.
The man looks up with a start. ‘Oh yes – yes. Just file them away.’
You look down at the disorderly jumble of books and crates. Following the youth’s lead, you drop the charts and scrolls onto the nearest pile.
‘Good, now . . . let’s see.’ He lifts up a tea-stained chart, which appears to show a partial map of the jungle. ‘I hope you’re made of brighter stuff than the last lot of miscreants. I know the university is cutting costs but. . .’ He blows out his cheeks ‘Seen more sense in a howler monkey.’
Will you:
Ask about the man’s studies? — 583
Ask about the unfinished map? — 324
Ask what he knows about demons? — 341
Ask if you can help? — 565
387
A sudden thought occurs to you. Opening your pack, you retrieve the heart-shaped object and offer it out to the creature.
‘My heart!’ The bear hugs the object to its torn chest. ‘The toymaker promised me a new one. He hasn’t forgotten me after all.’ The sad-looking creature turns and shuffles back across the room, muttering to itself as it fondly strokes the object. (You can remove this item from your hero sheet.)
You have now gained the following special ability:
Bear hug (1 use): Instead of rolling for a damage score after winning a round, Cuddles will come to your aid. The bear inflicts 3 damage dice to a single opponent, ignoring armour. This ability can only be used once, and only during this quest.
There is a dull rumbling sound as the east wall slowly swings outwards, revealing a narrow stone passageway. The bear continues to shuffle back and forth, attention focused on its new present. Seeing your chance to escape this peculiar cell, you head immediately into the passage.
After only a few hundred metres, you come to a rusty metal door. It has already been pushed open, leaving a yellow-brown stain where it has scraped across the stone. A can of oil rests on the floor next to it, which someone evidently used to help grease its hinges. There is still some oil inside. (If you wish you can take the can of oil, simply make a note of it on your hero sheet – it doesn’t take up backpack space.) You pass through the open door, grateful that one of your problems has been solved, at least. Turn to 304.
388
You shift position, putting your weight behind the wheel to turn it in the opposite direction. As it revolves, screeching and squealing and setting your teeth on edge, you see that the previous portal has faded away. There is a repeated series of rumbles followed by a booming thump. Then a different portal appears, this time against the north wall.
Will you:
Step through the magic portal? — 395
Turn the wheel anti-clockwise? — 405
389
The man looks up as you approach, offering you a grin filled with sharpened teeth. ‘Old one,’ he bows his head, then gives the sparring child a kick in the back of the leg – throwing him off balance. ‘You stretch too far,’ he growls. ‘Keep feet closer. Watch enemy.’
The boy looks up at him, angrily spitting words in their strange guttural language.
The warrior scowls, cuffing him with the back of his hand. ‘You learn like others, Fran. Go, your weakness angers me.’ He takes the polished training daggers, watching as the teary boy scampers back to his friends – a ragged band of children with dirty, scowling faces.
‘He don’t see reason for training,’ he spits. ‘Soon, we may all need to fight.’
‘I owe you my thanks.’ You smile, offering out a hand in friendship. ‘You saved my life. Gave me my freedom.’
The rogue looks down at your hand, momentarily confused. Then he slaps one of the training daggers into the offered palm. You are surprised at its heaviness – its tip weighted more than the handle. He notes your surprised reaction. ‘I am Murlic. I teach you to fight, if you want. Fight Wiccan way.’
Will you:
Learn the pariah career (requirement: rogue)? — 302
Ask about Durnhollow? — 129
Explore the rest of the cave? — 485
390
Andos rifles through the books, a sinister smile creeping across his face. ‘Yes! These are the books –The Negra Lumaris. Their knowledge is mine at last!’
‘Andos?’ You back away, perturbed by his strange behaviour. ‘Is something wrong?’
He snarls, baring his teeth. ‘Andos is merely my servant, fool!’ The boy swings back his arm, drawing crackling bolts of energy from one of the open books. It pools around his fist, the glow reflected in his maddened eyes. With a beast-like roar he hurls the ball of magic in your direction. You leap aside just in time as the m
issile punches into the ground, throwing up a column of sand and smoke.
‘You cannot defeat me,’ snarls the youth, circling you with a menacing sneer. ‘I am Xenos the ever-living – and now you have granted me the power of the ancient Lamuri!’
Quickly, you spring back to your feet and prepare to fight:
Special abilities
Knowledge is power: Xenos is using the books to help boost his magic. If you win a combat round, instead of rolling for damage you can choose to destroy one of the three books. This automatically lowers Xenos’ speed, magic and armour by 1. You may repeat this in future rounds, until all three books are destroyed.
If you manage to defeat this magical entity, turn to 438.
391
At the end of the passageway you see the strange child watching you, his patchwork cloak wrapped tight around his scrawny shoulders. Behind him is a glowing portal, identical to the others you have used to travel around the tower.
‘You are good at my games,’ grins the boy, scratching at his chin. ‘But my best game is yet to come. It’s my favourite!’
‘Where are the others?’ you demand angrily, striding towards him. ‘Enough of your games!’
‘Ah, can’t tell you that,’ he smiles.
Suddenly, the passageway starts to shake violently, throwing you to your knees. The child looks around in confusion. ‘No! The tower . . . it’s starting again . . . It wants to take us back!’
‘Back where?’ you yell over the rumbling din. ‘You mean the shroud?’
The child doesn’t answer. Instead he turns and runs, disappearing through the glowing portal. You stagger after him, determined not to let him escape. Turn to 32.
392
Dark shapes lumber towards you through the white haze. At first their size and form is deceptive, their angular appearance and broad shoulders suggesting plate-armoured knights. But as they close on your position, you realise that they are actually immense statues fashioned from onyx and crystal. They stand over ten feet tall, their giant hands chiselled flat into hammer-like fists. As they near, black lightning starts to flicker about their mighty limbs, charging the air and making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.
Then, as one, they rush to attack, the ground shuddering and breaking beneath their anvil-sized feet. You draw your weapons, dodging the first set of whirling fists to fly in your direction. Weaving beneath your opponent’s legs, you launch a desperate chain of attacks against its black-stone hide. But each blow is turned away by the hard rock, leaving mere scratches rather than deep wounds.
‘The pillars,’ one of your companions shouts above the din of battle. ‘The runes are the source of their strength!’
You must now fight:
Special abilities
Charged: Each time your damage score/damage dice cause health damage to the stone giants, you take 2 lightning damage in return, ignoring armour. If you have the insulated ability you can ignore this damage.
Pound those pillars: For each runed pillar you destroy, the stone giants’ armour is reduced by 4. When a pillar is reduced to zero health, it explodes, inflicting 6 damage to your hero. You can use armour to help absorb this damage.
Enchanted rock: The giants and pillars are immune to bleed, sear, thorns, thorn cage and fire aura.
If you win a combat round against the stone giants, you can choose to apply your damage to the giants or a runed pillar (unless you have an ability that lets you strike more than one opponent). Once the stone giants are defeated, you have automatically won the combat.
If you able to overcome these mighty guardians, turn to 44. (Special achievement: If you are able to defeat the giants without destroying a single pillar, turn to 188.)
393
As the last chain is broken, the demon blurs forward with lightning speed. Unable to dodge aside in time, you are hit in the stomach by a fist of claws. The blow draws an agonised scream from your lips as your body is wrenched upwards, your legs kicking feebly in the air. Your nose fills with the sharp odour of blood and brimstone. Then you are being flung backwards as a blue-black shape hurtles past you, wings flapping through the air.
‘Now, Orgorath. You are mine!’ bellows the demon.
You hear a scream; one of your companions. Then you crash down onto the snow-crusted mud, your own wheezing breaths thundering in your ears. You lie for some seconds, choking on each agonised gasp. A cacophony of noise breaks over you – ripping, snarling, tearing. A shower of severed roots and branches go sailing through the night air.
You struggle to lift your head, to see what is happening, but the movement only brings a fresh spasm of pain. As you kick and squirm in the mud, your fingers brush against something cold and metallic. You manage a glance sideways, to see the relic lying next to you.
The ground trembles. A dark shadow moves into view, blocking out the blood-red moon with a frightening silhouette of horns and spikes.
‘Cernos,’ you gasp.
Your hand goes for the relic – but the demon is faster. A cloven hoof smashes down on the headpiece, staving in the metal panels. Then it descends again, accompanied by a hissing growl.
From the point of impact, a white light explodes outwards. Blinding. Impenetrable.
You blink, trying to focus – to see beyond the spots of pain and the bright brilliance that surrounds you.
‘Dwarven fools,’ booms the voice of the demon. ‘They hand me the very thing I desire most – the heart of fire.’
As colours swim and merge together, you see Cernos standing over you, a bright gemstone gripped in one of his fists. Smoke billows between the clenched fingers, where the skin boils and blisters. But the demon shows no sign of pain.
‘My time here is at an end,’ he bellows, raising his other hand and summoning black flames to his palm. ‘As is yours.’ Turn to 418.
394
‘Allam had a chronicler – one of his knights,’ explains the dean. ‘Not a scholar, but someone who saw the value in recording the prophet’s visions. It was not an ordered record, more a random collection of scrawls on whatever was to hand – parchment, animal hide, cloth, bandages . . . it became a vast store of knowledge about Allam. There were thousands of records in the end as the prophet became more . . . susceptible . . . to the visions.’
The dean’s words only serve to confound you more. ‘What does this have to do with him,’ you gesture to the dishevelled traveller, ‘or the Wiccans?’
The dean grins. ‘Allam was fixated on the forest of thorns. He couldn’t penetrate it – no blade or magic was capable of cutting a path through those sorcerous trees. And yet, he firmly believed something lay there, at its centre.’
You are suddenly reminded of your own strange visions – and the ghostly voice beckoning you to the centre of that malign place. ‘Go on.’
‘For some reason, Allam headed south instead. His men were beset by stone creatures – some say trolls, but I believe they were of a darker magic. Allam and his followers never made it back from that expedition.’
‘And you want to know why?’
The dean nods. ‘Allam was looking for something on that expedition – something that would get him inside the forest.’ He looks over to the monk, seated at the table. His quill is struggling to keep up with the vagabond’s ramblings. ‘The only way of knowing why Allam went south was to read the chronicles – to discover the vision that led him there. The chronicles are a sacred document; they cannot be copied or borrowed. They reside in the cathedral in the capital, under constant guard. Ventus’ mission was to get our friend to the chronicles. His ability – his gift – would help us find out what Allam was after.’
Will you:
Ask about the traveller’s gift? — 429
Ask about the war with the Wiccans? — 491
End the conversation? — 496
395
The portal deposits you in a long narrow chamber of rusted metal. An ochre-tinged light filters through grilles in the ceiling, illuminating k
nee-deep sludge and the assorted junk bobbing on its surface. You cover your nose from the stench, guessing that this is some kind of waste area. Floating in the slimy water are scraps of metal, tattered cloth, wood shavings, broken tools, and some things you prefer not to identify. Looking over your shoulder, you see that the portal has closed behind you – trapping you in this foul-smelling chamber. Thankfully, there is a door at the opposite end. As you make your way towards it, you suddenly hear a splash followed by an angry hiss. Then something hits you in the back, sending you sprawling into the water. You twist around, just as another object comes flying towards you, missing your head by scant inches.
You stagger to your feet, frantically scanning your surroundings for the source of your tormentor. But you can’t see anything – only bobbing piles of trash. Then a squelching movement behind you forces you to spin, as a sheet of battered metal lifts itself out of the water. There is an angry snarl as the metal is flung through the air. You duck beneath it, barely having time to recover before another length of metal is hurled in your direction. Quickly you draw your weapons, sidestepping the missile as it clangs against the far wall.
There is no sign of any visible enemy. You can only assume it must be a poltergeist – an angry spirit intent on using you for target practice!
The Heart of Fire Page 31
