companions, who are both on the verge of firing their weapons. ‘He could be the one.’
Warily they approach and demand that you identify yourself. You tell them who you are and suggest that they look in your pocket if they require proof that you speak the truth. Gingerly, one steps forward.
Turn to 87 .
16
The stumpy little Ookor takes a rapid step backwards when you tell him you do not come from Meledor. Nervously his followers close around him and raise their spears, forming a defensive wall to protect their leader. You assure them that you mean no harm and try to explain how you arrived in their land, but fear and suspicion cloud their eyes until you mention Serocca, the name of the one whose help you seek.
‘Very well,’ says L'yan-K'ril, pensively. ‘We will take you to Serocca, if that is truly your wish.’
Turn to 35 .
17
Desperately he tries to avoid your Arrow but it penetrates his armour and lodges in the side of his neck. He screams at the sudden pain and tears the offending shaft from his flesh, hurling it back at you contemptuously. Such fortitude is impressive but you can tell that he has suffered a serious wound. Feverishly he scoops the Lorestones into a small velvet sack which hangs from his sword belt, and you shoulder your Bow in favour of a hand weapon as you run forward to prevent his escape.
Turn to 206 .
18
Sagely the old Ookor nods her head and retrieves her cards from the table. She bows, and as she turns she mumbles something in her native tongue, before shuffling away to help her daughters gather the empty food bowls.
‘She say it sometimes better for warrior not to know his future,’ says T'uk T'ron, and rounds off his meal with a hearty belch. ‘We go now, yes?’ You nod and the little Ookor captain orders his company back to the chariots.
As you prepare to leave you notice the old fortune teller waiting near the door of the hut. She has something in her hand and, as you approach, she offers it to you. It is a large, wooden charm shaped like the wing of a bird. If you wish to keep this Ookor Charm, mark it on your Action Chart as a Special Item which you keep strapped to your Backpack.
With a wave, you bid farewell to the cheerful villagers and hurry back to your chariot.
Turn to 117 .
19
Your Arrow grazes the creature's eye then ricochets off its horny lid. The sudden unexpected pain sends the creature into the sky, screeching an agonized cry across the empty plain. Then it turns and flies away to seek the shelter of its lair and nurse its weeping wound.
Turn to 265 .
20
With dread anticipation you stagger to your feet to survey your new surroundings. A bleak and desolate plateau, seemingly devoid of life, stretches into the distance on all sides. Jagged boulders litter a desert of crimson sand, which is stirred to restless motion by fierce and scorching winds. Neither sun nor moon hang in the amber skies above, yet their absence does not leave this world in darkness, for all along the horizon blazes a fire which glows brighter than a thousand sunsets. You stare across this alien landscape and a feeling of helplessness grips your senses as you realize where you have emerged. This is the twilight world of the Daziarn Plane.
A knot of fear tightens in your stomach as you recall what little you have heard about this world. The magicians of Sommerlund believe it to be an astral corridor that connects Magnamund with other planes of existence. So, by passing through a Shadow Gate, one of which is situated below the Guildhall in Toran, a person can gain entry to the Daziarn. However, those who have passed through the Shadow Gate in Toran have never been seen again and the magicians believe that the journey can be made in only one direction. They say there is no escape from the Daziarn.
Your vow to restore the Kai and your stubborn will to survive against all odds refuse to let you believe that there is no way back to your home world. You cast aside your fear and steel
Warily they approach and demand that you identify yourself. You tell them who you are and suggest that they look in your pocket if they require proof that you speak the truth. Gingerly, one steps forward.
Turn to 87 .
16
The stumpy little Ookor takes a rapid step backwards when you tell him you do not come from Meledor. Nervously his followers close around him and raise their spears, forming a defensive wall to protect their leader. You assure them that you mean no harm and try to explain how you arrived in their land, but fear and suspicion cloud their eyes until you mention Serocca, the name of the one whose help you seek.
‘Very well,’ says L'yan-K'ril, pensively. ‘We will take you to Serocca, if that is truly your wish.’
Turn to 35 .
17
Desperately he tries to avoid your Arrow but it penetrates his armour and lodges in the side of his neck. He screams at the sudden pain and tears the offending shaft from his flesh, hurling it back at you contemptuously. Such fortitude is impressive but you can tell that he has suffered a serious wound. Feverishly he scoops the Lorestones into a small velvet sack which hangs from his sword belt, and you shoulder your Bow in favour of a hand weapon as you run forward to prevent his escape.
Turn to 206 .
18
Sagely the old Ookor nods her head and retrieves her cards from the table. She bows, and as she turns she mumbles something in her native tongue, before shuffling away to help her daughters gather the empty food bowls.
‘She say it sometimes better for warrior not to know his future,’ says T'uk T'ron, and rounds off his meal with a hearty belch. ‘We go now, yes?’ You nod and the little Ookor captain orders his company back to the chariots.
As you prepare to leave you notice the old fortune teller waiting near the door of the hut. She has something in her hand and, as you approach, she offers it to you. It is a large, wooden charm shaped like the wing of a bird. If you wish to keep this Ookor Charm, mark it on your Action Chart as a Special Item which you keep strapped to your Backpack.
With a wave, you bid farewell to the cheerful villagers and hurry back to your chariot.
Turn to 117 .
19
Your Arrow grazes the creature's eye then ricochets off its horny lid. The sudden unexpected pain sends the creature into the sky, screeching an agonized cry across the empty plain. Then it turns and flies away to seek the shelter of its lair and nurse its weeping wound.
Turn to 265 .
20
With dread anticipation you stagger to your feet to survey your new surroundings. A bleak and desolate plateau, seemingly devoid of life, stretches into the distance on all sides. Jagged boulders litter a desert of crimson sand, which is stirred to restless motion by fierce and scorching winds. Neither sun nor moon hang in the amber skies above, yet their absence does not leave this world in darkness, for all along the horizon blazes a fire which glows brighter than a thousand sunsets. You stare across this alien landscape and a feeling of helplessness grips your senses as you realize where you have emerged. This is the twilight world of the Daziarn Plane.
A knot of fear tightens in your stomach as you recall what little you have heard about this world. The magicians of Sommerlund believe it to be an astral corridor that connects Magnamund with other planes of existence. So, by passing through a Shadow Gate, one of which is situated below the Guildhall in Toran, a person can gain entry to the Daziarn. However, those who have passed through the Shadow Gate in Toran have never been seen again and the magicians believe that the journey can be made in only one direction. They say there is no escape from the Daziarn.
Your vow to restore the Kai and your stubborn will to survive against all odds refuse to let you believe that there is no way back to your home world. You cast aside your fear and steel
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