SGamerz wrote:I love how the Beggar is as rich as every other character.
I have to wonder if that was different in the Virtual Reality edition. Some of the pregen characters in Green Blood and The Coils of Hate have less money but more health.
Thaluikhain wrote:Apparently Dave Morris was invited to be a guest of honour at Sentieri Tolkieniani in Turin, despite never reading LotR.
He's a good fantasy writer and worldbuilder so I could see an argument for inviting him to that kind of thing.
Counting the votes:
Magic is a definite at 3 votes.
Luck, Swordplay, and Cunning all get 2.
Seafaring, Folklore, and Streetwise get 1.
So that gives us 4 skills with majority votes: Magic, Luck, Swordplay and Cunning. Basically the Wizard with Swordplay instead of Lore. On to the LP:
PROLOGUE
After many days on the road, it is with a quickening of the blood that you breathe in and catch the ripe, enticing scent of Baghdad’s canal-irrigated orchards in the distance. Cresting a hill, you rein in your horse and gaze down on the city of your birth. There is a haze in the air that, filtering the shafts of morning sunlight, makes the gardens and marble palaces seem as though flecked with gold. Beyond the city walls, the River Tigris laces between the green fields and the woodland of the hunting parks like a vein of liquid fire.
The horse whinnies and tugs at the reins.
‘You like the look of that fresh grass, eh, Antar?’ You pat his mane and dismount, leading him to a spot where he can graze in the shade. Then you lie back to bask in the warm sun. Bees drone lazily amid the flowers. You set out early this morning and have made good speed. Why not enjoy a nap before riding on into the city?
Yet sleep does not come. You are too excited. When you set out a month ago to attend your uncle’s funeral, you were contented but poor, with few prospects for the future. You never dreamt that your uncle, whom you hardly knew, had made you his heir. He left you his fine stallion Antar, who has already become a firm friend. And in your saddlebags are bars of gold that will allow you to set yourself up in whatever enterprise you wish.
As you muse on what you will do with your new-found fortune, you become aware of voices on the other side of the hill. Antar is still contentedly chewing the grass. Moved by curiosity, you make your way through the bushes and look down to see a group of servants laying out a picnic. Nearby stand soldiers, obviously the guards of a plump nobleman in elegant robes who has a hawk that he sends swooping down the hill. Each time the bird falls on a field mouse, the nobleman’s ample belly quakes with cruel laughter.
One of the soldiers comes up to the nobleman and salutes him. You are close enough to hear him say, ‘Lord Jafar, shall we set up your pavilion?’
You know that name. Jafar is the Grand Vizier of Baghdad, who advises the Caliph on every detail of state policy. You decide to remain out of sight. It is not prudent to attract the attention of one so rich and powerful. He could easily decide you are trespassing and have you flogged or enslaved.
Jafar nods, then waves the soldier away and beckons over a thin servant clad in black who had been standing aloof from the others. The servant hovers beside Jafar with a fixed grin on his face, like a worshipper waiting to hear the word of his god.
Jafar sends the hawk aloft and watches it. Then he says thoughtfully, as though to himself, ‘Every night, the Caliph puts on ordinary clothes and has me lead him by means of secret passages to explore the streets outside the palace walls. In this way, he hopes to learn the true will of the people.’
‘It’s all too easy for a ruler to get out of touch,’ puts in the black-clad servant.
Jafar nods. ‘Precisely. Lately I have been leading the Caliph to very select venues — inns and houses where I have previously planted my own agents. They talk of rebellion, and the Caliph hears their talk, and gradually he begins to believe that his subjects hate him.’
‘Oh, a scheme of rare cunning, if I may say so, your excellency,’ says the servant. ‘But where’s it leading, may I ask?’
‘The Caliph, fearing rebellion, each day grows more cautious, more paranoid. He intensifies the rule of law and deals harshly with those whose loyalty is in question. And so, by fearing rebellion, each day he brings it closer.’
The servant claps his hands in delight. ‘You are the Prince of Guile, my lord! So the populace will come to hate the noble Caliph…’
‘And then, when the time is ripe, I’ll overthrow him. How the people will cheer! Despite my humble protests, they’ll insist that I take the place of the despot. Can you see it, Natar?’
‘I can, excellency!’ cries the servant. ‘And when you are Caliph, what then?’
He waits with an expectant smile which fades as he sees the dark look in Jafar’s eyes.
‘And then?’ says Jafar grimly. ‘Then the whole world shall tremble.’ You’ve heard more than enough.
This many secrets can get a person killed. You are edging back into the bushes when one of Jafar’s guards comes around the hill. Outrage leaps like fire into your blood. The guard is leading your horse.
‘See what I found, excellency,’ he says, taking the horse over to Jafar. ‘Thank you,’ purrs Jafar, patting Antar’s neck. ‘A fine gift.’
This is too much to bear. Striding down the hill, you raise your hand and call out. ‘Wait! That’s my horse.’
Jafar flicks his gaze vaguely in your direction, looking through you as though you are nothing. ‘I believe the horse is mine, and yet I seemed to hear a voice raised in protest. How can the Grand Vizier of Baghdad be mistaken?’
You are almost choking with emotion. You lunge, seizing Antar’s reins. ‘This is outright theft!’
Now Jafar glares. His eyes, like tiny crystals of ice, focus on yours. You shudder at the sudden palpable wave of evil. ‘Justice is not for the likes of you,’ he spits. ‘I make the law here.’ The servant, Natar, peers at you and then speaks anxiously to his master: ‘This wretch may have overheard us, lord. Shall I..?’ He draws his knife half out of its sheath.
Jafar nods. Before you can react, one of the guards clubs you across the back of the neck. Your legs give way and they catch you under the arms. Natar pushes the knife towards you.
‘Not here,’ snaps Jafar. ‘You’ll get blood over the picnic things. Do it by the river, then throw the body in.’
You are half-led, half-dragged towards the riverbank. You’re groggy but you fight to stay conscious, knowing that if you black out now you will never awaken. The river surges past below. Natar’s face swims close through waves of nausea. The knife approaches your throat.
You muster a burst of strength and break free of the guards holding you. Natar only laughs. ‘So, you still have some fight left in you. Good.’
You seize his wrist, but you know you don’t have the strength to disarm him. Instead you let your legs give way, using your dead weight to drag you both over the side of the bank.
Icy cold water engulfs you. Natar’s grin has become a mask of hatred and alarm. By luck you twist the knife around, and you think you managed to cut him. He is swept away and you tumble with the current, spinning down and down into a black sink of oblivion.
You are revived by the last rays of the sun. You are lying in river mud near to some fishermen’s hovels on the outskirts of the city. Ignoring the throb in your skull, you drag yourself to your feet and stumble along the warren of streets, your only thought being to stay hidden. Jafar’s agents may already be looking for you. With what you have learned, your days are numbered. Unless you can expose Jafar as the villain he is.
So apparently the reason everyone has the same amount of money is that they had a huge inheritance in gold (and a horse) that Jafar stole, and the dinars are just their pocket money.
Nightfall finds you walking aimlessly through the narrow back streets of the city. From off in the main plaza you can hear the hubbub of street entertainers and night-time revellers. Torchlight flares from braziers set up for the festival. Here the street is hushed and dimly lit. You shrink back into the shadows, preferring to be alone with your bitter thoughts.
A beggar sits in a doorway, unnoticed by the few passers-by. He is an old dervish with a streaked grey beard. He reaches out his tin cup, startling you, and you flinch at the sight of his scabrous hands. Then you see the green turban that marks him as a hajji — one who has made the arduous pilgrimage to Mecca.
‘Alms for the love of God,’ he mutters.
Ashamed at the feeling of loathing that swept across your face at first, you fish in your pocket and give him a dinar. It rattles in his cup and for a moment he peers at it as though it were a wondrous vision. He gestures up at the heavens and says, ‘You have only to lift your head: there is a sight to banish misfortune. Under the wide sky, God sees all and guides the worthy to a just reward.’
The remark seems filled with portent. You gaze up past the rooftops at the stars: a thousand lights sharp as jewels on the cloth of the night. A feeling of awe at their beauty takes the breath from your body. By the time you look back, the dervish is shuffling away.
You follow him to the end of the alley, but lose sight of him as he slips through a crowd of people who are gathered to hear a storyteller. As the storyteller finishes his tale, the crowd begins to break up. Some move off towards a troupe of acrobats from distant Cathay whose oiled flesh gleams like amber in the flaring torchlight. Others go to buy sweetmeats from stalls around the plaza. The storyteller sits back on his mat, beaming at the mound of coins he has earned.
You are standing outside an astrologer’s shop. A man emerges, brushing past you, nodding with a smile as he catches your eye. The tattoo on his chest suggests he is a sailor.
Remember to cross off the dinar you gave the dervish.
Enter the astrologer’s shop?
Talk to the sailor?
Go over to the storyteller?
Go in search of the elusive dervish?
Also pick a name for our character if you want. Interestingly enough, this is the only gamebook I can think of where the character's gender is checked at one point, which I forgot to mention earlier. So we have to pick that.
Adventure Sheet:
Name: ??
Gender: ??
Skills: CUNNING, LUCK, MAGIC and SWORDPLAY
Life Points: 10
Possessions:
1) Ring
2) Sword
3)
4)
5)
6)
7)
8)
Money: 11 dinars