Purchase weapons and armour? — 682
Purchase crafting reagents? — 849
Leave the haunted shop? — return to the map
558
You jolt awake, coughing and spluttering. From the dark sky, falling stone beats against the earth, bouncing and rattling off your soot-streaked armour. Shielding your eyes against the barrage, you fix your gaze on the mountain. Through the ash you can dimly make out its summit, fountaining an endless column of rock and earth into the sky.
The crunch of feet alerts you to the approaching demon. It strides through the smoke, a shadow amidst the swirling red ash. Its charred body is crisscrossed with veins of fire, pulsing with a hellish glow. And in its hand is a sword – a rune-blade, its serrated edge crackling with magic.
My vision.
Tears sting your eyes as the demon stalks towards you. ‘Virgil . . . What have you done?’
The demon snarls. ‘My journey is complete! Ragnarok is remade!’
You scramble for a weapon, clawing through the dust and rock, but they have landed out of reach. When you turn back, the demon is standing over you, the dark sword raised. ‘One of us will change the future.’
‘Indeed I will.’
The voice comes from behind you. An arrow of purple light slams into the demon, sending it reeling backwards. As it tries to stand, another bolt blows it away into the mist. The sword rattles to the ground.
You struggle to rise, bewildered by this sudden change of events. A black-cloaked stranger strides past, a bright staff of gold resting across his shoulder. The wind tugs at his cowl, exposing his features for the briefest of moments. A bald head, gaunt face, weasel-like eyes. A scar curves along their cheek, turning their upper lip . . .
It is the librarian from Durnhollow. The man who drugged you and then questioned you. The man who brought you to the edge of ruin.
‘How . . . how did you get here?’ You struggle weakly to stand.
‘You told me everything, remember?’ He raises a hand, sending currents of magic coursing towards the sword. ‘I’m here for Ragnarok. Nothing more.’ The pale flesh of his arm reveals three branded serpents. They writhe and twist as if alive, glowing with an alien magic.
‘You . . . you used me . . . used Cernos . . . to get the sword.’
The librarian glances at you, the air still rippling around his hand. ‘I must do what the voice tells me. Ragnarok is part of the plan. The plan to return . . .’ His magic curls around the sword, enfolding it within an invisible prison.
‘No! I can’t let you take the sword. It must be destroyed . . .’ You tense, ready to spring. He reads your intention, his expression darkening.
‘I saved your life, fool – if life you can call it. Do not try to stop me – or I will end it just as swiftly.’
The sword drifts through the air to hover at his side. He then raises the golden staff, its end panels flipping open to form the petals of a flower. ‘Remember, I am Lorcan. I am the one who saved you. The future is now yours, prophet.’
There is a bright flash of golden light – then he is gone. And the sword with him.
The ground shakes violently, throwing you sideways. Only metres away the rock is torn asunder, ripping out a jagged fissure. From its depths, a bright sludge of lava spews forth in a glutinous mass.
You quickly find your feet, lurching from side to side as the world continues to shudder in its death throes. From behind you there is a thunderous crashing din, followed by a fierce wash of heat. You dare not look back, to see the scale of devastation. Instead, you simply press on. The demon lies nearby, crumpled body steaming with purple smoke.
A sudden tremor knocks you to the ground.
Forced to crawl, you scramble over the rocks to reach the demon’s side. ‘Virgil . . .?’ The librarian’s magic has blown a hole in his chest, exposing an ugly mass of bone and tissue. He lies twisted, arms outstretched as if reaching for something. Your eyes trace the line of his body, to the golden sphere lying in the dust.
A beacon stone. Identical to the one that Virgil placed inside you, to summon himself and Avian to the volcano. He had another . . .
Your hand closes around the sphere, thumb resting on the switch. ‘Freedom . . .’ The word has a bitter ring to it now, tainted with lies – tainted by what you have become. A demon. As Cernos was before you. ‘All I ever wanted was freedom . . ..’
Your eyes stray to the witchfinder. The man who betrayed you. In the end, he lost himself to his anger and his rage. He took Ragnarok, believing it would rid the world of evil.
There are many steps on the path of darkness. I pray you find deliverance before its end.
You press the switch, just as a violent earthquake rips open the ground.
For a second you are falling, then a soft white light envelops you . . . Turn to 831.
559
The tigris move swiftly through the jungle, weaving agilely between the gnarled roots and walls of liana. Often they resort to running on all fours, leaping and bounding over obstructions or springing off fallen trees. The babe clings to the mother’s shoulders, looking neither alarmed nor concerned by their speedy flight. Perhaps this is what they are used to – forever running, forever trying to outrun the hunters.
As the rain finally starts to slow you break out of the tangled undergrowth, your feet thudding into banks of wet sand. A river stretches to your right, already swollen with the rainfall. Its sparkling waters churn and roil, pitching a constant stream of forest debris along its course.
Ahead, a group of tigris are standing underneath a shelf of rock. By their animated gestures, it looks as though an argument is taking place. Two sides seem to have formed – on the one side, a pack of white-furred tigris, and on the other a larger group with black-and-orange markings, similar to your companions.
Scar-face slows, putting his arm around the young mother and her cub. A sudden silence falls as the two packs of tigris halt their exchange and turn to watch. Before anyone can speak, the air rings with a ferocious roar. One of the white-furred tigris with black stripes and green eyes springs forward, muscles rippling in his powerful arms.
‘You bring a skin here?’ he snarls.
‘Hold, Sheva. This one not like others. Helped us; helped Shara Khana.’
‘We not take help from skins,’ growls the white tiger. The rest of his group edge forward in an aggressive stance. ‘Khana grow weak. Hunters take your spirit.’
Scar-face leaps forward to face off against the white, his long tail whipping back and forth in agitation. ‘I’ll show you spirit, Sheva!’
‘Hold your claws,’ booms a voice.
Both of the tigris stiffen, looking back to the rock shelf where a larger orange has stepped forward. A thick mane of grey hair grows around his throat and shoulders. You suspect that this is their leader – or one of them at least – a leader accustomed to being followed. This Grey-hair glares at the white tigris. ‘If we hope to cross the marsh, then we need fresh claws.’
‘Marsh is the coward’s way,’ growls the white, making a face and spitting on the ground. ‘I told you. We lost too many. Shara Sheva fight now.’
‘Please, no.’ The mother speaks up for the first time, addressing the grey-haired leader. ‘They are strong. I tried to find a better way—’ She pauses, glancing sideways at Scar-face. ‘We tried to find better way,’ she corrects. ‘But hunters have pack lands and spread like shadow. Old dens not safe.’
Grey-hair grunts softly. ‘I told you this. Better you see it with your own eyes.’
The white gives a rumbling growl. ‘No one ever crosses marsh. Sheva fight now, before we all gone.’ His green eyes regard you with utter disdain. ‘Would this one lend its claws; turn steel against its own kin?’
‘No,’ implores Scar-face. ‘The marsh is the better way. We flee across the mountains – find new dens. Join Khana – we need more claws.’
Will you:
Ask about the marsh? — 337
Ask about the
‘skins’? — 555
Agree to help the Khana flee? — 452
Agree to help the Sheva fight? — 704
560
You wade out into the lake, the noxious stench of the water making you gag. It isn’t until you pull yourself up onto the island, your clothes dripping with slime and pond weed, that you see the effect the polluted water has had on your equipment. The slime contains some kind of acid that has eaten away at the metal and leather, whilst leaving yourself unharmed. (You must immediately lower the brawn, magic or armour of two items of equipment by 1.)
At last you are able to inspect the chest. Up close, you can now see that the wooden panels are etched with runes. You cannot fathom their purpose, but suspect they might be protecting the wood from the effects of the swamp. Eager to see what is inside, you put a hand to the lid. Suddenly the runes flash into life, their spidery patterns glowing with purple light. Then there is a loud crack of magic. You feel yourself being flung backwards, your surroundings blurring into a white tunnel. Another deafening crack – and you are tumbling across rocks and stone, the sounds of the jungle rushing in to envelop you once again. Turn to 574.
561
In your haste, you misjudge a handhold and slip, your legs scrabbling desperately against the rough wall. For several heart-stopping seconds, you are holding on with one hand. Then the loose rock crumbles and you find yourself falling. By luck rather than judgement, you manage to grab a jagged outcrop. It breaks your fall, but one of the straps on your backpack comes loose, swinging itself free of your shoulder.
When you finally make it back onto the bridge, sweating and shaking from your experience, you discover that you have lost one of your prized items. (You must remove one backpack item from your hero sheet.) Turn to 749.
562
Your weapons and magic shred through the raging elemental, weakening it and slowing its momentum. ‘That’s it!’ Boom Mamba races into the centre of the ruins, lifting up his glowing staff. The wind snakes around him, now little more than a gust of whirling grit and sand. There is a flash from the staff’s runes as the wind is drawn inwards, swirling and spinning into its glowing headpiece.
Then it is gone. Boom cracks a smile, his face shining from the blue light swirling around the staff. ‘Zephyr is in the boom stick now. We gonna blast Mortzilla good with this!’
(By defeating Zephyr, the shaman’s staff has gained the wind guardian ability. Make a note of this on your hero sheet.)
If you are a warrior, turn to 160. If you are a mage, turn to 346. If you are a rogue, turn to 297.
563
The stairs descend into cramped passageways, where the air is cold and musty. You sense you are now underground, as evidenced by the occasional root or creeper pushing between the tight stone slabs. Again, every stone here is covered in carvings; but these have taken on a more sinister tone, the images depicting bloody sacrifice and demonic entities.
Turning down another passage, you notice alcoves cut into the walls. Each one contains a linen-wrapped corpse, bent over in a crouched position. Some are wearing headdresses, others have clay animal masks fixed over their skulls. Pots and bowls have been arranged around each corpse – perhaps for offerings, or part of some after-life ceremony.
Another turning brings you to a junction. To the left the passageway ends in a stone door, which stands slightly ajar. To your right the passage becomes a set of worn stairs, rising past carved pillars of bronze.
Will you:
Take the left passage? — 599
Take the stairs? — 889
564
You count nine hounds, tearing across the bridge – each an immense and powerful predator, shimmering with heat and flame. Virgil coolly raises a pistol and fires, discharging a bullet at the leader. It gives a savage roar of pain, its head thrown backwards by the force of the blast. The creature’s momentum carries it forward, its broken body bouncing and sliding across the ground. The witchfinder leaps over the smouldering corpse, dropping another of the beasts with his second pistol. As the rest of the pack close in, he quickly trades his smoking weapons for two thin-bladed swords – their white steel glowing with holy inscriptions.
‘Come and be judged!’ Virgil dives into the pack, his swords cutting dizzying trails through the air. You hurry to join him, your own weapons burning bright with magic. It is time to fight:
Special abilities
Pack attack: If you roll a double for the molten hounds’ attack speed, you must take 4 damage, ignoring armour from their swiping claws. This ability deals damage in addition to their usual damage score.
Molten skin: You automatically take 2 damage at the end of each combat round, ignoring armour, from the hounds’ flames. If you have fire shield you can ignore this ability.
Body of flame: The molten hounds are immune to backdraft, fire aura, sear and searing mantle.
If you manage to defeat these fiery fiends, turn to 783.
565
‘Well, you look better turned out than the others, so for once I’m optimistic.’ He holds up the unfinished map, with the blank space at its centre. ‘This area is known as the dark interior. Yes, predictable name, but that’s geographers for you. It’s a cratered valley that few, if any, have fully navigated. I’ve sent four explorers there now and none have had the good will to return.’ He pauses, as if mulling over the matter. ‘They might be dead, I suppose.’
You nervously clear your throat. ‘So, you want me to complete your map?’ you assert, hoping to get the conversation back on track. ‘And for this, I get a reward?’
The man puts a finger to his ear. ‘I’m sorry, did you say . . . reward? The university not paying you enough already for this little holiday?’
‘I’m not from the university,’ you reply firmly, folding your arms. ‘But if the price is right, I’d be willing to do what I can.’
The scholar picks up his sunhat and starts fanning himself. After much muttering and grumbling, followed by several long minutes of uncomfortable silence, the man finally nods his head. ‘Humph, very well then. Fifty gold crowns up front, to help purchase any essentials you might need. I’ll double that on your return . . . if you return, that is.’
Your eyes are drawn to the gaping white circle on the map. It suddenly looks unsettlingly large. ‘You can trust me,’ you reply, holding out a hand for the money.
The scholar gives you 50 gold crowns. Make a note of the word explorer on your hero sheet, then turn to 548.
566
‘We all Shara Sheva,’ states White Cloak, patting her chest then pointing to the rest of the pack in turn. ‘Not have names like skins. We all pack. All Shara Sheva. That is our name.’
Your eyes scan the small gathering. ‘Do we really have enough?’ you ask candidly. ‘The hunters will be well-armed.’
White Cloak’s eyes narrow with affront. ‘Each Sheva worth ten of their skins. Shonac’s spirit burns in our hearts, not theirs. By sun fall, they will hunt us no more.’
Will you:
Ask about Shonac, the great spirit? — 542
Join the scouting party? — 576
567
The stone plugs slide down over the outlets of lava, cutting off their flow to the forge. Virgil nods his head with approval. ‘Our hot-tempered friends aren’t going to like that . . .’
Congratulations, you have solved the puzzle and improved your chances of defeating the fire sprites! Make a note of the keyword fire quencher on your hero sheet and the number 350. You may now examine the pipes, if you haven’t already (turn to 692) or head up the stairs to the forge (turn to 601).
568
Ahead, a stone ziggurat cuts an impressive shape against the bright-azure sky. You sense the demon has been this way – his taint, the pall of ancient evil, hangs heavy in the air.
You make an immediate beeline for the structure, pushing through the garden’s unruly vegetation. At last, scratched and bleeding from the many thorns and needles, you break out onto a paved causeway. I
t leads straight to the base of the ziggurat, where an open doorway provides access inside. However, your presence here has not gone unnoticed.
Two gold statues stand guard, either side of the path. They are fashioned to look like armoured warriors, with winged helms and runed breastplates. Each statue is armed with an immense halberd, with a crescent-shaped blade almost a metre in length. The moment you set foot on the path the guards jerk into life, then proceed to move with deliberate strides towards you. It is time to fight:
Special abilities
Scything blades: Each time you choose to play a speed or a combat ability, roll a die. On a result of or less you are caught by the guards’ halberds. This causes 4 damage, ignoring armour. It also stops you from using your ability until the next combat round. or more and you avoid damage, allowing you to use your ability as normal.
Knockdown: If you suffer health damage from the guards’ damage score, you are knocked off your feet, lowering your speed by 1 for the next combat round.
If you manage to defeat these deadly sentinels, turn to 524.
569
You notice a number of items snagged in the weed-choked waters. Using Boom Mamba’s staff, you are able to fish them out of the pool. As well as a pouch containing 40 gold crowns, you also find one of the following rewards:
Tremor stick
Sanctified scale
Lightning whetstone
(main hand: spear)
(necklace)
(talisman)
+1 speed +2 brawn
+1 armour
+1 speed
Ability: shock!
Ability: seraphim’s symbols set
Ability: sure edge
The Heart of Fire Page 44
