Legion of Shadow (79 page)

Special abilities

If you win a combat round against the stone giant, you can choose to direct your damage towards the giant or one of the stone golems. If you defeat the giant, all remaining
stone golems immediately crumble into dust.

If you manage to defeat this colossal foe, turn to
443
.

659

‘Oh this?’ Lansbury lifts up the book, turning it over in her hands. ‘This is just one of the books I found in those ruins, when we met you. They’re from
the shadow war – yes, this is a thousand years old.’ She opens the book again, smoothing down one of the yellowed pages. ‘The parchment is enchanted so it will never age. This one
in particular is an account of the war from a mage’s apprentice. Fascinating reading.’

She looks down at the other books resting next to her chair. ‘Finding these was a perilous business. But it was worth it. Some of what they contain may even help us in our upcoming
struggles.’

Turn to
597
to ask another question, or
553
to leave the tent.

660

‘Let me give you a gift,’ hisses Sharroth. ‘A taste of what is to come.’

You give a choking gasp, as something – a fierce, burning cold – races up the base of your spine and into your skull. There is a momentary flash of pain, like knives stabbing deep
into your very being, then you open your eyes.

And you remember.

Memories come flooding back. You see yourself as a general – a mighty warrior and mage, leading regiments of shadow spawn across countless battlefields. Everything that lies before you is
laid to waste by your power. You had respect . . . you were feared.

‘Yes, Nevarin,’ rasps Sharroth. ‘Remember who you were. Who you are.’

‘No!’ you grit your teeth as rage and anger build inside you. The images have shifted to ones of pain and misery. The gate has been closed and you have been cut off from your world.
You see yourself running – always running – a fugitive, a monster that nobody trusts. Fists and weapons have all been turned against you . . . angry faces, accusations. ‘Shadow
spawn!’

Power crackles from the mark along your arm, fuelled by your anger and resentment. ‘A thousand years, I have been hunted,’ you spit, advancing on Avian in cold fury. ‘I have
been judged.’

The mage backs away, shaking his head. ‘Do not do this, Nevarin! Don’t let the anger overtake you. I trusted you. I still trust you. You can change!’

For a moment your steps falter. Avian’s look of sincerity, of honesty, has disarmed you. Then an image of Mathis flashes before your eyes. The inquisitor is staring at you with loathing
and scorn. The inquisitor who would see you burnt at a stake for the mark that you carry.

Rage courses through your veins once more, pumping crackling energy into your shadow mark. It spits and hisses as it begins to change . . . distending outwards to form a set of curved spectral
claws.

You have gained a new special ability:

Dark claw (pa)
: For every double that you roll (before or after a re-roll), your hero automatically inflicts 4 damage to their opponent. This ability ignores
armour.

When you have updated your hero sheet, turn to
682
.

661

You awake to find yourself partially buried beneath the rotting carcasses of the undead. Grimacing with disgust, you push the corpses aside and get to your feet. Your head is
still buzzing with pain, although a quick examination of your body finds no sign of a wound. You suspect that your shadow mark has healed you once again.

Everywhere you look, there are undead corpses – most of which are blackened and charred. Lansbury is propped up against the side of the statue, holding a hand to her bloody shoulder.

She looks up as you approach, smiling through her obvious discomfort. ‘I really must examine you closer, shadow born,’ she says, arching an eyebrow. ‘Not a blemish on your
skin. They say, when your kind dies you turn to shadow energy for a short time. That energy then remakes your body.’ She gives a bemused snort. ‘Immortality . . . what I wouldn’t
give for that.’

You glance around at the remains of the battle. With regret, you note that none of the others survived the conflict. Laine’s warhorse is the only mount remaining, standing loyal guard at
his fallen master’s side.

‘The statue activated just in time,’ explains Lansbury, as you help her to stand. ‘Although, if I had just been a little quicker . . .’ She sighs, shaking her head.
‘No use regretting what might have been. The living need us now – we should return to the camp.’ The hand pressed to her shoulder glows brightly for a second. When she removes it,
you see that the wound has healed.

‘A shame I can’t use my powers to bring back the dead,’ she grumbles, as you pass the fallen bodies of your comrades. ‘We will return and give them a hero’s
burial.’

You help Lansbury onto the warhorse, then slip into the saddle behind her. With a flick of the reins, the healer guides the horse down from the hill, now under the watchful protection of the
stone angel. Turn to
731
.

662

The necromancer throws out his left hand, his fingers grasping at the air. From the darkest corners of the room, tendrils of shadow began to move – swirling and twisting
as they are drawn along the ground.

You jump aside as a black shadow brushes past your legs, to join the others that are swirling around the mage, forming a dense circle of darkness. Then, from out of this shifting gloom, shapes
began to form . . . like devilish silhouettes.

‘Shades!’ growls Nyms. ‘He is summoning shades.’

The dark phantoms grow long, thin arms – each one ending in a frightening array of black-curved claws. Between their broadening shoulders, tentacles of fog ooze into ghostly faces with
hollow eye sockets and toothless mouths.

In a heartbeat, there are six of the creatures surrounding the necromancer.

Suddenly, one gives a horrible banshee-like wail. It springs forward, its sharp talons raking through the air. Nyms reacts instantly by ducking beneath its blow and thrusting his twin blades
through its middle. With a howl of agony, the shade is blown apart – sending whirling ribbons of shadow flying in all directions.

‘Take the mage,’ orders Nyms. ‘I’ll handle the shades.’

As the swordsman spins his blades into the mass of dark bodies, you charge the necromancer:

Special abilities

If you manage to defeat this powerful mage, turn to
649
.

663

You open the jar and stick your hand inside, pulling out a handful of the slimy, squirming maggots. ‘I know medicine is never tasty, but this . . .’ You bring the
maggots closer to your mouth, trying not to choke from the wretched smell.

664

You search the body of the two-headed giant. In a pouch around its waist is a bag containing 100 gold crowns. You may also help yourself to one of the following rewards: