842
You emerge in a rectangular room, piled high with rubble. A space has been cleared at its centre, where a series of runes have been marked out in congealed blood. They spiral like a coiled serpent, ending in a heap of gore and blackened bones at the centre.
‘I don’t need to be an expert to know this is bad,’ you muse grimly.
Virgil has stopped, his one eye lifted to the ceiling. You follow his gaze, shrinking back in horror when you see the fleshy growth spread across the stonework.
‘A magic anomaly,’ says Virgil, dropping his voice to almost a whisper. ‘Keep moving . . .’
He motions to the steps opposite, leading down into a vaulted hall. Nodding, you quickly cross the room, with one eye on the creature and the other on the strange runes. Evidently this chamber was used for some dark ritual, perhaps the one that summoned the blood demons you fought earlier.
At the foot of the stairs, a two-tiered hall stretches for several hundred metres, both levels lined with shelves of books and scrolls. Ghostly spirits are moving back and forth along the stacks, their bodies glowing with a sickly yellow light. At the far end of the hall, past heaps of rubble and several broken statues, is a large square table – and seated at it is a dwarf.
He is clad in mouldy white robes, embroidered with purple-glowing runes. The collar is flared, jutting out either side of his thin beardless face. You notice the dwarf ’s skin is green with rot, exposing dark hollows and bare bone.
‘Yes . . . yes.’ The dwarf is turning pages in a tome, his rheumy eyes roving back and forth behind a pair of iron-rimmed spectacles.
The rest of the table is a jumbled array of open books, stone tablets, bubbling potions and alchemical equipment. One of the ghosts flits over to the table, placing another book on an already teetering pile.
‘Good, good! Out of my sight!’ snaps the dwarf, ushering the ghost away with a rotted hand.
You notice that the only exit stands directly behind the undead librarian – a pair of obsidian doors, barred from the inside. With no other choice you make your way along the hall, wincing as your footfalls echo noisily in the chamber.
The dwarf looks up, his emaciated face cracking into a sneer. ‘Silence in my library!’ He slams his fists on the table, knocking over several bottles in the process. Their contents fizzle and hiss, the sound mirroring the seething snarl coming from his lips. ‘They were too weak. Too stupid! But my loyal demons will succeed where they failed. You’ll see!’
Virgil is at your side, his swords glowing bright with holy magic. ‘A trapped spirit – undead. He probably thinks this is Tartarus, two thousand years ago.’
‘I said SILENCE!’ shrieks the dwarf. ‘Back from whence you came, or be punished!’
Virgil takes a step forward, spinning his blades in his hands. ‘We wish to leave, dwarf – but we’re taking the door behind you. I suggest you comply with our wishes. Or else this will end . . . messily.’
The librarian jumps out of his seat, black magic sparking around him. ‘What insolence! Spirits! To me! It seems we must rid ourselves of another nuisance from our library!’
One by one the ghostly spirits raise their arms. Motes of green light streak from their fingertips, surrounding the dwarf in a halo of swirling magic. ‘Yes! YES! THE POWER!’
The dwarf rises up on the streaming currents, his frayed robes dancing about his thin body. ‘The power of the Illumanti is mine!’ He blurs forward, bolts of magic lancing from his rotted fingers. You leap over the deadly barrage, wings stretched taut as you sweep in to meet his attack. It is time to fight:
Special abilities
Spectral synergy: While the spectres remain alive, they boost Molech’s power. At the end of each combat round, Molech heals 6 health (this cannot take him above his starting health of 100). Also, Molech’s attacks drain your strength. Each time you take health damage from Molech’s damage score/damage dice, you must lower your brawn and magic by 1 for the duration of the combat.
In this combat you roll against Molech’s speed. If you win a combat round, you can choose to apply your damage to Molech or the spectres. Once Molech is reduced to zero health, the combat is automatically won.
If you manage to defeat Molech, turn to 681. (Special achievement: If you manage to defeat Molech with the spectres still alive, turn to 880.)
843
You pull open the hinged doors, backing away as a wet mass of tubes spill out onto the ground. Covering your nose from the oily stench, you peer inside the exposed cavity. The tight space is filled with cogs and axles and grease-covered pipes. Pushing your hand deeper into the gooey innards, you discover something cold and hard at its centre. You rip it free from the wreckage, surprised to find that it is an unblemished crystal, still humming with magic.
If you wish, you may now take:
Golem core
(backpack)
A pulsing crystal filled
with dark energies
When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to 870.
844
You retrieve your pack. When you look back towards the pool, you see that Lorcan is untying the golden rod that was previously strapped to his back. He lifts it into the air, its magical radiance brightening as the flower-shaped headpiece starts to revolve.
You stare at him, baffled by the strange device.
His eyes meet your own, his scarred face attempting a semblance of a smile. ‘I will see you again, prophet.’
‘Wait!’ You lunge forward – but you are too late. There is a bright flash of golden light, then the man is gone. Angrily, you kick at the stones where he had been standing, furious that you have been left with so many unanswered questions. But then your gaze falls on the far side of the canyon and the volcano, rising high into the hazy gloom. Thanks to Lorcan, you are now a step closer to Tartarus – and your final showdown with the demon, Cernos. (Return to the quest map to continue your adventure.)
845
Congratulations! You have created the following item:
Self-published tome
(left hand: spell book)
+2 speed +3 armour
Ability: surge
If you wish to create a different spell book, you can start the process again (turn to 850). Otherwise, you may now leave the chamber and continue your journey. Turn to 866.
846
Your eyes stray to the demonic bow. It is fashioned from lengths of wood and iron, twisted together to form a tangled arch of thorns. Even the grip is bladed and sharp, capable of drawing blood from anyone brave enough, or foolish enough, to want to hold it.
If you wish, you may now take:
Agilax, the string of tears
(left hand: bow)
+2 speed +3 brawn
Ability: blood archer career
While this item is equipped, the blood archer has the following special abilities:
Blood hail (co): Instead of rolling for a damage score after winning a round, you can use blood hail to shower your enemies with arrows. Roll 2 damage dice and apply the result to each of your opponents, ignoring their armour. If any opponent is already inflicted with bleed from a previous round, then they take an extra 4 damage.
Blood thief (pa): For every you roll for your damage score/damage dice, you may instantly restore 4 health. This cannot take you above your starting health.
Once you have made your decision, turn to 855.
847
The iron doors have been barred from the inside. Together you lift the metal blocks and shove them aside, before pushing open the doors. They grate and squeal against thousands of years of grime, slowly opening out onto a narrow bridge. Across the other side you can see a projection of volcanic rock, crowned by four tower-like chimneys. Each one is belching a steady stream of smoke into the air, forming a dark pall above the nightmarish city. (Return to the quest map to continue your journey.)
848
The golden mirror rests perfectly between the two hands. The moment it clicks into pla
ce the sun’s light hits the reflective disc, sending a golden beam streaking southwards through the cloudy mist. You cannot guess what purpose this device serves – perhaps some kind of signalling device. If you decide to leave the golden mirror in place, make a note of the keyword sun seeker. Otherwise, you may remove the mirror and take it with you again. When you have made your decision, turn to 587.
849
The hat and gloves float off towards the back of the shop. They disappear through a small doorway, returning a moment later with a silver chest. The ghost places it on the dusty counter, then flips open the lid. Inside you find several rare and unusual items.
You may purchase any of the following for 700 gold crowns each:
Runed rod
Onyx blade
Golem core
(backpack)
(backpack)
(backpack)
A splintered length
A crescent-shaped blade
A pulsing crystal
of black metal
for a mighty weapon
filled with dark energies
If you wish to make further purchases, return to 557. Otherwise, you thank the ghostly proprietor and resume your journey (return to the map).
850
You begin by sliding the bronze plates into the metal frame. These plates contain the runes for your book. If you wish to choose the runes of shadow, turn to 530. If you would prefer to use the glyphs of light, turn to 624.
851
Virgil’s sneer betrays a grim pleasure, as he drives his blades into the spirit’s body. The hapless creature quickly unravels, leaving a shiny ring to drop to the ground. You crouch to retrieve it, surprised to discover that it is as light as air, its translucent bands fashioned from curls of dark smoke.
If you wish, you may now take:
Aethereal
(ring)
+1 armour +2 health
Ability: windblast
With little else of interest in the room, you decide to leave. Turn to 875.
852
You are surprised to discover that the note has been written in common, not dwarvish. Smoothing out the cracked parchment, you begin to read:
I must leave with the others. Too late now to save the city. The demons have no mercy. Trapped between two enemies. We should never have turned to them. I tried to stop it. Molech and the false whites. Blood rituals. They think it will save us.
The writing on the second part of the note has become more erratic, as if it was written in haste:
I did my duty. The demons are all around us. Tartarus will fall. No one can say I didn’t do my duty. The secrets are safe. If only I was stronger. Molech and the demons have control. Barahar will fall. They will destroy the sword. But the price is too high. Too high . . .
The writing ends suddenly. You are unsure if is deliberate or if the scribe was distracted and never got to finish their message. ‘Who are the false whites?’ you ask Virgil, handing over the note. The witchfinder studies it with a frown.
‘Possibly Illumanti. I’ve heard them called white robes on account of their attire. They are the high sect of mages in each dwarven city. This confirms my suspicions.’ He crumples the parchment in his fist. ‘They summoned demons to fight Barahar. And in doing so, they lost their city.’
Will you:
Examine the crystal ball? — 659
Search the shelves? — 711
Leave? — 858
853
The passage slopes for several hundred metres, before levelling out into a hall of granite pillars. Between each pillar there is a statue of a dwarf, a stone urn resting at each set of feet.
‘The vault of ashes,’ says Virgil, his voice echoing in the still silence. ‘These are the kings of Tartarus.’
You step closer to the nearest effigy. It depicts a stern-faced dwarf, dressed in thick plates of armour. In his runed gauntlets rests a two-handed hammer, almost as tall as himself.
Standing opposite is another statue – a dwarf in flowing robes patterned with intricate sigils. In place of a hammer, he holds a staff. As you continue along the hall, you pass a further four statues, arranged in pairs. When you come to the end, only a single king stands sentinel – holding a sceptre and a staff. The opposite sepulchre is empty.
‘Always two kings to rule the twin thrones,’ states Virgil. ‘Their last was never laid to rest.’ He kneels beside the vacant pedestal, studying the angular script. ‘Erkil Giantsbane. King of the Hammer.’
‘He must have escaped with the survivors,’ you conclude.
Virgil shrugs. ‘Or died somewhere in the city. Guess, we’ll never know . . .’
At the end of the corridor, a set of winding stairs leads you into another vaulted hall. Passages to either side stretch away into darkness, their high walls lined with hundreds of tiny alcoves.
‘This must be where they kept the rest of their dead,’ says Virgil, peering down one of the passages. ‘The dwarves believed they were born of fire and earth. When they died their ashes were interred in vaults. This is the first I’ve—’
A sharp, wracking cough echoes in the chamber, making you both jump.
You turn to see a ghostly figure slouched in the corner of the hall. Its entire body is black with smoke, twisting and broiling like a thundercloud.
‘Demon!’ Virgil marches forward, his inscribed blades ready to strike.
Startled, the creature struggles to stand, its wispy fingers groping at the stone. ‘Ah, not so hasty . . . I cannot accede to such a title. I am but a rune spirit, and a minor one at that.’ He gives another wheezing cough.
‘An elemental of air,’ scowls Virgil.
The creature blows a stream of smoke from its mouth. ‘Alas, I am more a sigh than a squall.’
Virgil holds one of his blades to the spirit’s throat. The ghost jerks back, shuddering in fear. ‘Those . . . those are words of death,’ it gasps, glaring at the inscriptions. ‘I have not seen their like before.’
‘Then you’ve been here a long time,’ replies the witchfinder. ‘These words spell your death.’
The spirit raises a hand. ‘Wait! If you help me, I will give you something. Something precious.’
‘Lies!’ The blade edges closer.
‘Wait, Virgil.’ You place a hand on his shoulder, urging restraint. ‘Perhaps we should hear what it has to say?’
The spirit nods quickly. ‘Wiser words, oh yes. I came here looking for the gate – the rune gate. It will take me back to the shroud.’ He breaks off into a series of hacking coughs. ‘My body . . . so weak. . .’
‘What happened?’ you urge impatiently.
‘Got caught . . . by Nyx, the dark wind. Was almost scattered, lost . . . but I managed to find calm, safety. But too weak . . . I was so close.’
‘Are you saying the dwarves have a portal?’ Virgil sounds sceptical. ‘Where does it lead?’
‘Another dwarf city,’ rasps the spirit. ‘But they destroyed the gate . . . when the archdemon came. To stop the evil spreading.’
‘If it’s destroyed, then what use is it?’ you ask suspiciously.
‘I can re-activate the runes, change the magic. It will take me back to the shroud, back where I belong.’
Virgil shakes his head. ‘This spirit is a trickster. Do not trust its words.’
‘And if we help you, what do we get in return?’ you ask.
‘My master’s treasures are nearby – I show you where, after you help me – yes?’
Will you:
Ask the spirit why it is here in Tartarus? — 857
Agree to help the spirit? — 879
Allow Virgil to end its life? — 851
Leave and continue your journey? — 875
854
As you progress along the passageway the rumbling sound gets gradually louder, causing the tablets to rattle on their shelves. Many books lies scattered across the ground.
Eventually you pass an arched doorway in the west wall. Peering through, you are surp
rised to discover an immense circular shaft rising several hundred feet to a domed ceiling. Its walls are lined with row upon row of shelves, linked by a series of chain ladders.
Many of the shelves in the room are empty – and as the walls continue to tremble, more books tumble through the dusty air. The booming sound is coming from the sea of papers and bindings that now carpet the ground.
‘There!’ Virgil points to the far side of the chamber. He has spotted the jumbled surface bucking and shifting, as if something was moving beneath it. The shape is zigzagging towards you, the thunderous rumbling getting louder and louder . . ..
Suddenly the top layer of books is flung into the air, sending loose pages fluttering in all directions. An immense eel-like head rises out of the makeshift sea, its toothless jaws dripping with shattered rock and pulped fragments of parchment. You duck back into the passageway as it lunges forward, seeking to swallow you whole.
Will you:
Enter the chamber and fight the wyrm? — 833
Continue south along the passage? — 842
855
The sound of battle draws you to the edge of a wide, smoking crater. Twisted lengths of iron and steel poke out of the debris like stark winter trees, forming a tight forest with Virgil at its centre. The witchfinder is facing off against some strange metal contraption, which seems intent on slicing him to ribbons with its brutal assortment of knives and saws. With each lurching movement, lightning flashes between the crystals protruding from the golem’s head, sending flickering veins of light coursing over its rusted body.
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