The Nomad (14 page)

The players huddled briefly in conference. One of them was in favor of taking the street in the middle, the one that led straight north and afforded them an unobstructed field of view. The others did not trust that choice, and they argued in character. They thought it was too easy and too tempting. The gamemaster seemed to want them to go that way. It could be a trap. Three of the players wanted to take the street to the left, the one that curved around. The fifth player argued in favor of the street to the right, the one that was almost completely blocked by the pile of rubble. His arguments were persuasive. It was clearly the most ominous choice, he said. They could not see what lay beyond the rubble, and only one of them could squeeze through the narrow opening at a time. There was every reason not to choose that path, the fifth player said, because it not only hid what lay beyond from view, but it also exposed them to the greatest danger, since they could only go through one at a time. The gamemaster had purposely designed the scenario in such a way as to make that the least attractive choice for them, the fifth player insisted, which was precisely why it was the choice that they should make. The fifth player convinced the others, and they all elected to take the street to the right, past the pile of rubble from the partially collapsed building.

“Very well,” the gamemaster said, revealing absolutely nothing by his tone. “You proceed and come to the pile of rubble. Only one of you can get around it at a time. Even if you turn sideways, two cannot squeeze through together. So now, you must decide who will go first.”

Without hesitation, the other four players agreed that the fifth player, the one who had argued for the choice, should go through first. Suddenly, the fifth player seemed to find this choice much less attractive than he had moments earlier.

“And so it is decided that the thief goes first,” the gamemaster said, referring to the character of the fifth player. He gazed directly at the fifth player, once again, revealing nothing in either his manner or his tone. “Your wager, Thief?” The gambling element entered the game with each new dramatic situation that the players were presented. Before they rolled the dice to see how the scenario would progress, depending on their characters’ strengths and abilities, they would first wager on the outcome. It was a game in which the players were pitted against the house, represented by the gamemaster. And even though the gamemaster knew what was coming up next, he had to work from a prepared script, and he could not control the roll of the dice that determined a character’s strengths and abilities, and the outcome of any given confrontation.

The fifth player swallowed nervously. “I will wager three ceramics,” he said, cautiously.

The gamemaster raised his eyebrows. “Is that all? You had argued so insistently for your choice, and yet now, suddenly you do not seem very confident.”

“Very well, then, curse you! Five ceramics!” said the thief.

The gamemaster smiled faintly. “Make your roll.”

The thief rolled, and the gamemaster noted the score. It was a low score, and the fifth player licked his lips nervously. “Very well, who goes next?” the gamemaster said. The other players would all complete their rolls before the gamemaster revealed the outcome, based on their scores and their strength and ability rolls at the beginning of the game.

One at a time, the other players wagered and then rolled. Each time, the gamemaster noted down the score to balance off against the strengths and abilities rolled earlier. When they had all finished, the gamemaster consulted the scores that he had written down, taking his time about it to allow the tension to build among the players, and many of the onlookers, as well.

“You have walked into a trap,” he said at last.

The thief swore in disgust. “The undead are often stupid,” the gamemaster continued, “but unfortunately, some of them can be quite clever. They had dug a pit in the space where you passed through, and then covered it with a woven mat of reeds that would support a thin layer of dirt, but not a person’s weight. At the bottom of that pit, they had placed long, sharpened wooden stakes. The thief went first, and he scored low, so he fell through and was impaled. The undead will feast upon his corpse tonight. Player Number Five has died, and the game is now over for him, unless he wishes to pay a new character fee, roll to determine strength and abilities, and then continue.”

“Bah!” said the fifth player, pushing his chair back from the table. “I have had enough of this! You tricked us into that trap!”

“The choice was yours,” the gamemaster pointed out, “and you had even argued for it. You should have listened instead to your fellow players. Better luck next time.”

“Next time I will find a better game!” the fifth player said, then left the table angrily.

The gamemaster was unperturbed at this display, and continued smoothly. “The dwarf fighter went next,” he said. “However, his roll was high, as are his strength and ability scores, and therefore, he managed to avoid the pit by leaping over it as the thief fell through. Player Number Four, you have passed through successfully and won your wager. You are now richer to the tune often ceramics. My congratulations.”

Player Number Four collected his winnings with a pleased expression on his face.

“Player Number Three, the merchant,” the gamemaster continued, “rolled only a four, and unfortunately, it was not enough to compensate for her low dexterity score at the beginning of the game. She was, therefore, unable to avoid the pit, and so also fell inside and was impaled. Player Number Three has died and lost her wager, and now has the option of paying a new character fee, rolling for strength and ability, and continuing in the game, or else leaving the table.”

Player Number Three chose to leave the table, sighing and shaking her head sadly at the outcome.

“Player Number Two, the cleric,” said the gamemaster. “You rolled high, and your skill rolls were also high, so you also managed to avoid the pit by leaping over it. You have survived and won your wager. Congratulations.”

Player One, the templar, had also passed through successfully, won her wager, and would continue in the game. That completed the round of the diverging streets scenario.

“There is now room at the table for two more players,” the gamemaster announced to those who had gathered around to watch. “Would anyone care to try their luck on the quest for “The Lost Treasure of Bodach?’”

“An interesting game,” Valsavis said. “I have never played this one before. I think I will try my luck and see what happens.”

The gamemaster waved him to a chair.

“I will play, as well,” said Sorak, taking the other empty chair. Ryana stood behind him and watched.

Before the game proceeded, Sorak and Valsavis chose their characters and rolled the dice for their strength and ability scores. Valsavis, not surprisingly, chose to be a fighter, and his character was a mercenary. Sorak followed his example of playing close to home and chose to be a druid. Valsavis rolled high on strength and only average on ability. Sorak rolled high on ability and average on strength.

“Very well,” the gamemaster said, when they were done. “Let us now proceed. You are all past the pit, though Players One, Two, and Four have accumulated more experience points, which will count toward their winnings if they successfully complete the quest. Player Number Three, the mercenary, and Player Number Five, the druid, have no experience points as yet. We shall continue.

“The street before you is one that twists and turns in serpentine fashion through the ancient, ruined buildings. Perhaps the treasure may be found in one of them, perhaps not. But daylight is quickly running out, and the shadows are lengthening. You must find a place of refuge, for before long, the streets of Bodach will be crowded with undead, searching to satisfy their lust for living flesh. As you gaze at your surroundings, you see that none of the buildings in your immediate vicinity look especially secure.

“However, farther down the street, around a bend, you see an old stone tavern. The walls look thick, and the door, which is still in place, appears stout. The windows are all heavily barred. The structure appears to offer a safe haven for the night. So, now you must decide. Do you proceed toward it?” The players all quickly agreed that they would. “Very well,” the gamemaster continued. “You have reached the stone tavern, but as you stand upon its threshold, you can now see farther down the twisting street, and at another bend, you see a walled enclosure that surrounds what was once the home of an Aristocrat. The walls are high and thick, and the gate is made of iron, once common in the ancient world, now rare. Beyond this gate, visible through its thick and heavy bars, you see a courtyard, and past this courtyard, you see the house itself. It is set back from the street, and has three stories, surmounted by a tower at each wing. The house is built of stone, and appears to be more or less intact. Its front door is thick agafari wood, banded with iron. This house seems to present a safe haven, as well. Do you choose to go inside the stone tavern, with the barred windows and the stout front door, or do you proceed to the towered house of the aristocrat, surrounded by the thickly walled enclosure? Only one will afford safe shelter for the night, but which? You must decide.”

The players discussed their options.

“I say we choose the aristocrat’s house, with the iron gate and the walled enclosure,” said the dwarf fighter. “Clearly, it is the more secure.”

“I disagree,” said the templar. “The walled house clearly appears to be more secure, but that is an obvious temptation. The stone tavern seems secure, as well.”

“Yes, but remember what happened to the thief,” the cleric pointedly reminded them. “He attempted to second guess the gamemaster and died for it. We must not proceed in such a manner. I say we must deal with the city of Bodach on its own terms, and not with what we think the gamemaster may have in store.”

“What do you think, druid?” asked Valsavis, turning to Sorak with an amused smile.

Sorak slipped back and allowed the Guardian to come forth and gently probe the mind of the gamemaster. He was, indeed, very clever. The first encounter had been purposely designed to tempt the players with an apparently easy choice, so that they would think the more difficult choice was the right one. But the gamemaster had anticipated that in his script, and had outwitted them. In fact, the only safe choice would have been the easy one.

This time, the choice was between a house that seemed more secure on the surface, and a tavern that also appeared secure, but not as secure as the walled house. It seemed to be merely a question of degree. Recalling what had happened in the last encounter, the players would now suspect that the gamemaster was tempting them with the walled house in favor of the tavern, but the choice that was apparently more dangerous the last time had been the wrong choice, so now the stone tavern seemed more tempting. However, the gamemaster had fooled them once before, and would obviously now try to fool them again, so they would pick the walled house, after all. And it would not be the right choice.

“I think I prefer the stone tavern,” Sorak said after pretending to consider his choice for a moment.

“No, not I!” the dwarf fighter replied. “I do not believe that is the proper choice at all. It is the walled house for me.”

“I cast my vote for the walled house, as well,” the templar said, nodding agreement with the dwarf fighter.

“And I, also,” said the cleric firmly. “I favor the tavern,” said Valsavis. “Three against two,” the dwarf fighter said, shaking his head. “You are outvoted.”

“Is there anything in the rules that says we must all make the same choice together every time?” Sorak asked, breaking character for a moment to ask for clarification.

The gamemaster raised his eyebrows. “No,” he replied, “there is not, unless I have specified it in setting forth the situation.”

“I will choose the tavern then,” said Sorak.

“And I will go there with him,” said Valsavis.

“And the rest of you?” the gamemaster asked, again revealing nothing by his tone.

“It is their funeral,” said the dwarf fighter. “I still choose the walled house.”

The others all agreed and made the same choice.

“Interesting,” said the gamemaster with a faint smile, still giving away nothing. “Very well, then. The dwarf fighter, the templar, and the cleric proceed to the walled house, while the druid and the mercenary pan company with them to go inside the tavern. The first three reach the walled house, open the heavy iron gate, which takes an effort, as the hinges are very old, and they enter the courtyard, carefully closing and fastening the gate behind them. There does not appear to be anything of any interest or significance in the courtyard, so they proceed to the front door.” He paused. “What happens now?” he asked.

“Detect magic,” said the cleric quickly.

“You detect none,” said the gamemaster flatly.

“I examine the door carefully to see if it contains any nonmagical traps,” the cleric said, then quickly added, “I had learned to do so from watching the thief before.”

“You find none,” said the gamemaster.

“I
find
none, or there
are
none?” asked the cleric.

“You find none, and there are none,” said the gamemaster.

“Very well, we go inside,” the cleric said, satisfied.

“The templar, the cleric and the dwarf fighter open the door and go inside,” the gamemaster continued, “closing it behind them and throwing the heavy bolt.

It takes an effort to move the old bolt, but after a few moments, they manage to force it through. They are now in the dark central hall of the house. All around is dust and sand and cobwebs. It is very difficult to see.” The gamemaster paused again and raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

“I light a torch I have brought with me,” said the templar.

“Very well,” the gamemaster said. “The torch is lit. Before you is a wide and winding staircase that leads to the upper floors and the towers at the east and west wings of the house.” He paused again and looked at them expectantly. “I think we should go up to one of the towers,” said the templar. “It would afford us a better view of the outside, and we would be in a more defensible position.”