Posted: Tue Oct 31, 2017 2:22 pm
Attack the Shapes, since Ethelbert's advice has been good so far.
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With our Luckstone bonus I don't think it's possible for us to not kill each of them within one round.Aggressive little soul, aren't you? Well, since you decided to attack, you have the first strike at the little horrors. Which is maybe just as well.
Each Shape has only 4 LIFE POINTS, so one successful blow could kill it. But the problem is if you don't kill it first time, the Shape will blend gently into your body and remove 15 LIFE POINTS in the process. 15! Of course, the Shape destroys itself by blending, but that's not much consolation to you, is it? The Shapes attack in sequence. Until one is killed (either by you or by blending), the others will remain in the background and play no part in the proceedings. Go to it, Pip--and roll well!
If the Shapes kill you, go to 14.
If you kill the Shapes, go to 162.
Look, Pip! There's an Orb at the bottom of the chest!
It rests on a purple velvet cushion beside a small inscribed plaque of polished brass. You bend forward to read the words; and the words are these:
THE ORB OF THE DRAGONMASTER
All natural-born firebreathing lizards are subject to the Orb. To activate its power, breathe upon its surface. If you be truly a Dragonmaster, no firebreather of natural species will attack you. If you be not truly a Dragonmaster, then the Orb may still protect you, although of this there can be no certainty until you put it to the test. If the firebreather be a lizard of the magic species, a Silver, Gold, Ebon, or Brass Dragon, or the like, then the Orb will NOT have power over it, not even in the hands of a Dragonmaster.
What a find, Pip! Pity you're not a Dragonmaster, but at least now you have a chance of getting past the other dragons in this place before you meet old Brassy. So you take the Orb carefully from its velvet cushion and put it away safely, wondering who made it, and how long ago, and what race had Dragonmasters--a title unheard of in King Arthur's Avalon.
You search both chest and chamber thoroughly but there is nothing more of interest here. The exit tunnel descends quite steeply into the bowels of the earth, and while it is little different from other tunnels you have passed along here, some instinct, finely honed by many dangers, tells you that now, at last, you are nearing your final goal. And it seems your instinct speaks truly. The rank stench of dragon grows stronger in your nostrils as a faint glow ahead gradually resolves itself into the luminous outline of another Cavern entrance. Beyond it, faint but unmistakable, comes the distinctive rustle of dragon wings.
Take a deep breath, Pip, and go to 160.
The cavern you have entered is quite different from any other you have previously explored. Curious, crystalline structures are embedded in the various rock surfaces, scintillating softly in the torchlight, casting sapphire and emerald shadows that flicker like a magic flame.
It is a huge cavern, much larger than any other you have entered. The floor steps downwards in a series of broad, shallow terraces like some staircase constructed for a crippled giant. The final terrace sweeps away northwards, narrowing into a funnel which soars abruptly upwards forming an escape chimney through solid bedrock. The rank smell of dragons is everywhere.
A sudden plume of flame illuminates the entire cavern briefly before dying. In that brief instant, you catch a heart-stopping glimpse of the great fire-lizards: scores of them, hundreds of them, nesting in crevices, roosting on the high rock outcrops far above your head, clinging to the rough walls like nightmare bats. Their red eyes watch you, silently. Not the entire Order of the Table Round could defeat this monstrous brood. Even the most powerful magics locked within the Orb for which you risked your life may not be enough to hold them. Your every instinct screams at you to flee.
But you cannot flee. For there, on the lowest terrace, squatting hugely beside a blood-red crystal set upon a marble column, is the vast unblinking bulk of the monster you have been sent to kill... THE BRASS DRAGON! The glinting amber eyes turn upwards to stare deep into your soul. Hiss! A tiny tongue of blue-green flame curls from the dragon's mouth. And as it does so, soundless words echo through your mind.
'WELCOME, PIP, ADVENTURER AND FAITHFUL SERVANT OF THE WIZARD MERLIN!'
Your heart skips a beat. This is telepathy! A telepathic dragon? No lore has ever spoken of the Brass Dragon as a mind-reader!
'NOT THE DRAGON, PIP. IT IS I WHO SPEAK TO YOU, MIND TO MIND!'
You look around, bewildered. Momentarily unmindful of the dragon brood within the cave, you call aloud, 'Who are you? Where are you?'
'I AM ETHELBERT, MONK AND WARRIOR, PIP, AN ADVENTURER LIKE YOURSELF, BUT ONE WHOSE GOOD FORTUNE NOW SEEMS TO BE ON THE WANE. AS TO WHERE I AM, GOD'S WILL HAS PERMITTED THIS HELLISH BRUTE TO WORK A STRANGE MAGIC WHICH PLACED MY SOUL WITHIN THE FOUL RED CRYSTAL SET UPON THE PEDESTAL BEFORE YOU--WHEREIN I SHALL BE DOOMED TO REMAIN FOREVER UNLESS YOU HAVE STRENGTH TO SLAUGHTER THIS DISGUSTING BEAST AND SHATTER THE CRYSTAL TO FREE ME.'
'But how shall I kill the Brass Dragon?' you ask desperately, for in truth, any small self-confidence you ever had has now almost deserted you completely.
'MAGIC, BRAVE PIP! MAGIC AND FORCE OF ARMS. STRANGE FORCES ARE ABROAD IN AVALON SINCE THE GATEWAY TO THE GHASTLY KINGDOM OF THE DEAD WAS OPENED BY THIS MONSTER. BUT I HAVE GREAT CONFIDENCE IN YOU, PIP, TRUST IN GOD AND STRIKE SURELY TO THE HEAD WHEN YOU FACE THIS FOUL BEAST. BUT FIRST YOU MUST RUN THE GAUNTLET OF THE LESSER DRAGONS. MAY YOUR MYSTIC ORB PROTECT YOU!'
And he's right, you know, Pip. Before you even have a chance of getting yourself killed by the Brass Dragon, there are those hundreds of other dragons to deal with. So roll two dice, Pip: right now, before your nerve fails.
Score 2-9 and go to 163.
Score 10-12 and go to 166.
You breathe upon the Orb, watching it cloud briefly, then flare into brilliant violet light. There is a rustling high above you as the great winged lizards react to the sudden luminescence. You take a deep breath and begin, heart thumping, to walk slowly forward. Will the Orb protect you? If the magic fails, not all your strength, not all your experience, not all your remaining spells will help you more than momentarily against the combined onslaught of these great beasts.
The dragons are restless, watching you intently. You reach the edge of the first terrace and step down. The Brass Dragon remains unaffected, as the plaque inscription warned you it would. But at least it makes no move towards you, content to wait until you reach its present level. Until you do so, the real danger comes from the other firebreathers. You hesitate, glance upwards. Dragon eyes glint evilly, reflecting the violet light of the Orb. One great beast taks off from a high ledge and plummets briefly towards you, then wheels, glides and returns to its roost high above.
You reach the second terrace and step down. In your hand, the Orb gently, quietly, begins to sing. The sound, soft though it is, echoes through the whole cavern. Pair by pair, the eyes that watch you begin to droop, begin to close. One by one, the great dragons tuck their heads beneath their wings and sleep. You have won the first round! The Orb has worked its powerful magic. Now all that remains is the most powerful dragon of them all, the huge brass monster that awaits you patiently below. You set down the Orb, still gently singing, and draw your faithful sword. Bravely, nimbly, you race across the remaining terraces to meet your fate in 172.
And it's Boss-fight time!As you reach the lowest terrace, the Brass Dragon rears abruptly. Despite its bulk, the creature moves with truly alarming speed. It towers above you, amber eyes glittering with hate... and intelligence. Dragon it may be, but this is no ordinary firebreathing lizard. This is a creature of strength and power and cunning. Now, face to face with it at last, you can see how the legend arose that is was born in Hell. An aura of powerful magic surrounds it, an aura of evil. All your strength, your skill, your ingenuity and your remaining spells must be thrown into the coming battle if you are to have the slightest possibility of success.
The Brass Dragon has 150 LIFE POINTS--far more than your own. It strikes on a roll of 5 or better and scores +5 damage with each successful hit with fang or claw. Each third hit, it breathes a plume of blue-gold fire which, if it strikes you, does +10 damage.
All your attack spells are effective against the monster. Invisibility is partially effective in that the Dragon can still sense your presence, but requires a roll of 8 or better to hit you while you remain invisible. Go to it, Pip, and calculate the outcome.
If the Brass Dragon kills you, go to 14.
If you kill the Brass Dragon, go to 173.
Switching to this plan because it's rather like the one I had except without having to cast a spell to freeze the dragon.SlyJohnny wrote:Lead with the globule wand, so that we have free rounds to cast our fireballs without being interrupted.
According to the last book (although it's no explicitly stated in this one), using the wand is very similar to casting a spell, although the roll is slightly easier (we only have to roll 6+ instead of 7+), and we can save 3 LP. The wand also freezes the enemy for an extra round.Omegonthesane wrote:Switching to this plan because it's rather like the one I had except without having to cast a spell to freeze the dragon.SlyJohnny wrote:Lead with the globule wand, so that we have free rounds to cast our fireballs without being interrupted.
The vast carcass of the once deadly Brass Dragon lies twitching at your feet. Swiftly you step towards the glowing red crystal and smash it from its pedestal to shatter into sparkling fragments on the rocky floor.
A soundless burst of light! Standing before you in a stained and tattered robe, broadsword girdled at his belt, is a massive, bearded monk with flashing brown eyes, heavy brows and matted jet-black hair.
'By the holy toenail of Saint Paul, but it was cramped in there!' he rumbles. Then, bowing slightly, he introduces himself: 'Ethelbert, monk, warrior and faithful servant of Arturus Rex, son of Uthur Pendragon and rightful Liege Lord of the Realm of Avalon at your service.'
He hesitates, glancing at the Brass Dragon. 'Although, by the looks of things, you have little need of my services this day, Adventurer Pip, while I have every reason to be grateful for yours. But at least--' He shrugs and settles the broadsword more comfortably at his hip. '--I may show you the way out of here so that we may return to Camelot together to convey the news that the menace of the Brass Dragon is now over!'
So it came to pass that on a day in Avalon, two strange, bedraggled figures made their way painfully from Dragon Cavern and along the secret paths which would lead them, eventually, back to Camelot. One was a huge, dark-eyed and black-bearded warrior monk. The other, smaller, slighter, but not one whit less impressive: a young but experienced adventurer whose name was surely destined to live forever in the annals of the Realm.
They travelled slowly, this oddly assorted pair, for both were weary from the efforts of various weird and dangerous adventures: and also because they dragged behind them a litter on which was stored much booty from the Dragon Caves. Not that Ethelbert, the monk, was much interested in treasure, of course: but Pip, the young adventurer, was of a different philosophy and still smarted a little at the loss of another treasure collected on a different adventure.
The way back was uneventful, for they knew the paths now and avoided such horrors as Stonemarten Village. Nonetheless, it took them several days to retrace their steps and return to the point from which they had set out--or at least the point from which Pip had set out. There in the field was none other than Wandering Wanda, Pip's favourite cow, looking sleek, content and full of grass as if nothing untoward happened in the intervening time.
'What now, young friend?' asked Ethelbert, who seemed to have attached himself to Pip since his rescue from the magic crystal.
'I'm not entirely sure,' said Pip, frowning slightly. 'I suppose I should really report back to Merlin and tell him the Brass Dragon is dead so that he can go to the King and reclaim his pension. But to tell the truth, I'm not exactly certian where to find him. He has a log castle in the woods, but when I last saw him he was in his crystal cave and nobody knows how to reach him there.'
'But surely you do,' Ethelbert protested, 'since you saw him there. Can't you remember the road?'
'I didn't take a road,' Pip explained (while being careful not to explain too much). 'He brought me to the place by magic.'
'Then perhaps he will bring us back there by magic,' Ethelbert suggested. 'Since this was your starting point, why don't we just sit down here and wait for him to do something about it. He is supposed to be a great magician, after all--the greatest in the Realm. He must realise very soon that we are here with good news for him.'
And so the two companions sat in the field, guarding their treasure, with nothing better to look at than Wandering Wanda, and waited. And waited. And waited...
Meanwhile, in the Crystal Cave (which really did smell so much better than the stench of Dragon Cavern), the greatest magician in the Realm was having a little trouble with his latest spell.
It was a simple enough piece of magic--or should have been--based on the well-tried alchemical principle of changing lead to gold. Since his pension has been docked, the problem of stockpiling a little gold had become acute for the Wizard, so that in desperation he had purchased a consignment of lead from a merchant and hired a team of dray horses to drag it to the secret entrance of his present hiding place. The transaction, including the hire of the horses, had taken almost every penny he had, but he was certain he could recoup his investment (at a vast profit) once the alchemical operation was complete. Over the course of a week, he had personally carried the lead, a little at a time, into the crystal cave and piled it untidily in the middle of the floor near the makeshift furnace which formed an important part of the alchemical operation.
For those with an interest in such things, he was using a process called the Chymical Marriage of the White Queen and the Green Dragon, which had nothing to do with marriage, dragons or queens, or even chemistry for that matter (which just goes to show how confusing alchemy can be). Rather, it involved melting down the lead in the furnace then adding to the molten mixture a collection of rare herbs and spices while waving a wand and chanting the words of a particular spell. It was something Merlin had done quite often during his student days when he was learning the first steps of magic in the Druid College at Llandogo. Then, under the direction of his tutors, it had always worked perfectly. Now, for some reason, it kept going wrong. The lead changed all right, but not into gold. Each time the ringing echoes of the spell died down within the cave, the lead turned into steamed pudding.
The seventh time this happened, Merlin (who didn't even like steamed pudding) flew into an uncharacteristic rage, overturned the furnace and stamped away to another wing of his crystal cave, briefly determined out of bad temper and pique to place a blight on the kitchen garden of the Archbishop of Canterbury. (Merlin's dislike of the Archbishop and the Archbishop's mutual dislike of Merlin were well known in Avalon, although no one--including the two old men themselves--could remember how the trouble between them actually began.)
Although one would not, of course, wish ill on an Archbishop, it was fortunate that Merlin did lose his temper at that time. For while searching for his blight wand in a cupboard, he came across his crystal ball (mislaid for almost a week) and therein noticed young Pip in the company of a cow and a rough-looking fellow in monk's robes. Beside them was a crudely made litter, apparently piled high with all sorts of treasure and assorted rubbish. But the important thing was that the canvas covering had slipped a little to reveal the head of the Brass Dragon.
Merlin stared shortsightedly into the crystal for a moment, scarcely able to believe his eyes. Then he did a very strange (and possibly magical) thing indeed. He performed a whooping tap-dance all around the crystal cave.
And will we answer his call when he decides to summon us for the next job? Again, that's up to you?'There will be a banquet, of course,' said Merlin thoughtfully, 'and a tournament and so forth with myself as Guest of Honor--and a place for you above the salt, young Pip, in recognition of the part you played in ridding the Realm of this monster.'
'May I bring my friend Ethelbert?' Pip asked.
'If he cleans himself up a bit,' Merlin said expansively. His eyes glazed again as he followed inward thoughts. 'I shall have my pension restored: very possibly even increased, since Arthur tends to be quite generous in situations like these. You can keep any treasure you've collected, Pip. Buy yourself a castle or something, possibly a new farm for your adoptive parents. The King may even be moved to elevate you to aristocracy. You're a bit young, but who knows. I estimate we will have quite a while to enjoy ourselves before the trouble starts.'
'Trouble?' Pip blinked.
'Oh yes,' said Merlin. 'You did a sound job on the Brass Dragon, no doubt about that. But the Gateway is still open.'
'The Gateway?' Pip echoed.
'To the Ghastly Kingdom of the Dead,' Merlin snapped testily. 'I did tell you. As long as that stays open, the Realm is in all sorts of danger. Still, you can always sort that out when you've got your breath back, enjoyed your banquet and so forth. Mark you, the business with the Brass Dragon is only a sideshow compared with the dangers you'll face when you go into the Ghastly Kingdom of the Dead.' He smiled. 'But I have great faith in you now, Pip. Yes, yes indeed. I'm quite sure if anyone can manage it, you can. So don't worry about a thing. Just slip back to your own Time for a little rest and I'll call you again when I need you to tackle the Ghastly Kingdom.'
Yes. That's going to be your next adventure, Pip. Your next triumph, if you can survive it. A dreadful place, of course, but I'm certain you can manage it.
And I'll call you for the job. Yes indeed.
You had one two jobs...I think I'd better be involved in the next one to see it's down properly.Thaluikhain wrote:If not, I'll skip this one...but only on the understanding that other players make sure to kill the Brass Dragon and to close the Gateway in my absence.
No, because that's the quest for Book 3.Darth Rabbitt wrote:Was there a way to close the Gateway in this book?
Okay, I can't believe I missed this question the last time. Sorry. >_<SlyJohnny wrote:Could we have used the duck on the medusa, and what would we have got for beating her?