Now You Are In For It At Last

I bought issue 18 of Proteus, Brian Allanson’s Into the Dragon’s Domain, on the way to school. Probably at the newsagent’s closer to home, as the sequence I remember reading while waiting outside the music room was some way into the adventure. As I recall, I failed my first attempt by failing to learn that, in the world in which Domain is set, Wyverns have a lethal sting. Well, failing to learn it before I encountered the Wyvern. I found out soon enough when I got into a fight with the beast – and that was the last thing that that character did learn.

Domain is the one Proteus adventure that I might not have won when I played through the series in order to review the lot back in the noughties. I say ‘might not’ because of something on the letters page. Somebody had written in to ask why Dexterity was now being generated by adding 6 to the roll of a die, rather than 8 as in the first couple of issues, and the response was that it made the adventures 'more realistic (i.e. harder!)' but readers could go back to adding 8 if they preferred.

Now, the climactic fight in Domain is harsh. The eponymous Dragon has 16 Dexterity, and the adventure provides no means by which the player can increase their Dexterity above the starting score. Depending on the route taken to the endgame, the player can either gain a weapon that does double damage, but automatically lose at least 4 Strength at the start of the fight, or have a chance of commencing battle at full Strength, but only do normal damage, thus needing to win twice as many rounds against a superior opponent.

On my many attempts at the final battle, I played by the rules set out at the front of the magazine, but also made a note of how things would have gone if I’d been using the variant permitted on the letters page. Every character with a Dexterity of 1d6+6 died. On one occasion, the 1d6+8 variant narrowly managed to defeat the Dragon. Even if I can still remember the optimal route through the adventure, I think it unlikely that I’ll do any better this time round.

As should already be obvious, the primary antagonist in this adventure is a Dragon. Known as Dagmor the Terrible, he lives in a system of caves not far from the village of Mittelden, and has been making life that bit harsher for the locals by preying on them and their livestock. He also has the ability to charm people, unless they happen to be wearing a certain magic helmet that, for inadequately explained reasons, is stored somewhere in the cave network – and not buried in the mound of treasure on which Dagmor likes to chill out, where it could be kept out of the way of bold adventurers seeking to add ‘Dragonslayer’ to their résumé.

Even more bizarrely, Dagmor has a number of prisoners, including a hermit who can teach people the essential ingredients for a Potion of Fire Resistance, and an alchemist who will brew up such a potion if provided with those ingredients, yet he has never charmed them into ceasing to do this. It’s not as if this is the only piece of interactive fiction to indulge in such absurd contrivances but the daftness of it all does seem to stand out that bit more here, perhaps because the straightforwardness of the plot does little to distract the reader from details that make little sense.

Anyway, the combination of the challenge posed by Dagmor and the substantial reward being offered to his slayer has inspired me to try and kill the Dragon. This, as indicated a few paragraphs above, would be unwise even if I had the highest stats attainable, and the dice aren't that favourable. Even allocating rolls (and gambling on not needing to make much use of the third attribute), I can't improve on:
Dexterity 11 (13 if I do as permitted on the letters page)
Strength 21 (or 24)
Fate/Fortune 7
There's no ceiling on Fate/Fortune, so I might be able to push that to a more respectable score if I get lucky, but that Dexterity is not going to be enough. Better than the 7 (or 9) it would have been if I'd taken the dice as they fell, but comparatives of doomedness are largely irrelevant.

Stopping off for supplies in the hamlet of Yarrowdale, I meet a villager in his sixties who proves remarkably well-informed about the Dragon. He claims that he just happened to come across an entrance to the caves many years ago, and was inspired to make researching Dagmor and his environs into a hobby, but it's still quite a stretch to accept that he's been able to find out as much as he passes on to me. In addition to telling me the way to the caves, he warns me about Dagmor's powers, mentions the oddities described above, and points out that somewhere in the caves are a couple of items it might be worth trying to find: the Dragonshield, forged from the scale of another Dragon, and Albus the Avenger, a sword especially created for killing Dragons.

Proceeding to the cave entrance, I spot the Hobgoblin guard whose careless monologuing revealed to Mister Info-Dump that this is a way in to Dagmor's lair. Today the guard is taking a nap, so I think I'll sneak up on him and see if a little threatening behaviour can make him loose-lipped again. The text includes a rather nice line about Hobgoblins being 'occasionally prone' to good manners when held at sword-point. I am offered a choice of things to ask, and I think that finding out what can be found in the immediate vicinity of the entrance might be a good start.

The Hobgoblin tells me that there's a cavern with three exits nearby, and the leftmost one leads to a Minotaur. With a little encouragement, I get him to also remember that a 'strange old man' can be found on the right. That's the extent of his local knowledge, and as he can't be trusted to keep silent about my presence, I tie him up and gag him. Killing him in cold blood is not an option, and I see little point in getting into an avoidable fight.

Before long I get to the cavern. It's illuminated by torches, and I take one and have a quick search before moving on, finding a sack that contains a glass eye. This adventure is proving a little quirkier than I remembered it being.

The old man is likely to be another source of handy hints, so I seek him first. The tunnel leads to a door, and I knock on it. "Who is it now?" grumbles a voice, and I love the implication that the man is a bit fed up of being repeatedly disturbed by doomed adventurers. I claim to be a friend, and footsteps approach the door, which opens to reveal a man wearing red robes and an eyepatch. He invites me in and I miss out on something on account of not having eavesdropped before I knocked. Probably an opportunity to give him his lost eye and receive some reward.

The man asks why I consider myself a friend, and I explain that I mean to kill the Dragon who holds him prisoner. He tells me that, if I wish to reduce the effect of Dagmor's fiery breath, I will need to take some amber, a Minotaur horn and the tip of a Wyvern's tail to the potion-maker. Along with this advice, I am given a couple of section numbers to note down, so I can act on this information when in a position to do so. It's more blatant than the standard gamebook tricks for leading readers to otherwise inaccessible sections, but some readers might prefer that approach. 

The man also gives me a bead necklace, for which the Fire Imps will be willing to trade me some amber, and opens a secret door in the west wall that will lead me to Fire Imp territory. I have the option of assuming that the secret door is a trap and going north instead, but that seems a bit daft. It could work if some peculiarity of the Dragon's charm spell were to make his prisoners intermittently lie, with some tell-tale signifier that would enable the well-informed player to distinguish between fact and falsehood, but that would be too subtle for this adventure.

I go along the secret passage, which ends in another concealed door. This leads into a faintly glowing chamber with exits to north, south and west, and after a moment I spot two small humanoids on a ledge. They have in turn noticed me, so I wave the beads at them and point at the amber necklace that Mr. Allanson neglected to mention when describing the Imps.

There's a delightful little twist here: having conducted the trade in the manner of a colonialist explorer patronising aboriginals, I get laughed at by the Imp, who eloquently explains that he knows why I'm here, and wishes me well in my endeavours. To further assist me, he provides a key to the door at the end of the passage leading west, beyond which he has never dared to venture.

Thanking him, I head west. The passage ends at a T-junction, with the aforementioned door set into the west wall. I unlock it and find another passage, this one leading to an apparently deserted chamber with litter on the floor. Upon closer inspection, some of that litter turns out to be human bones, and a snorting from behind me draws my attention to the Minotaur that I somehow failed to notice while performing what must have been a very perfunctory examination of the place.

Owing to several poor rolls, I take a bit of a battering in the ensuing fight. Nevertheless, the Minotaur takes twice as much damage, which is enough to kill it. I eat to restore some of my lost Strength, and the text prompts me to make use of one of the numbers I noted down earlier (not that I needed the reminder). I remove one of the horns, which comes with another number to write down (as did the amber), and again I am simply told to make a note of the number - no 'there are this many lumps of amber in the necklace' or 'you estimate the horn to be so many centimetres long'.

Returning to the junction, I can only go north, though some awkwardly-phrased text indicates that east would have been an option if I'd not already been that way. That implies that it is possible to break down the door if you don't have the key - but I'd have had neither reason nor opportunity to take the horn if I hadn't spoken with the old man first, so I was right to go the long way round.

The passage twists and turns and leads to a descending flight of steps. I head down to a chamber containing a pool of water, with exits to the north-east and north-west. Taking a closer look at the pool, I wind up drinking from it, and regain the rest of the Strength I lost to the Minotaur. Now I must leave, and it's a blind choice.

The north-east exit takes me to another door, with a little light shining through from the other side. Listening at it proves uninformative, so I go through into a dusty, cobweb-shrouded room. A mouldering tapestry hangs on the wall, a wooden casket sits on a table, and a glass case sits on a stone column in the centre of the room. If this is where I think it is, I should leave the glass case until last.

The casket is cleaner than the rest of the room, suggesting that someone has recently been doing something with it. I cautiously raise the lid - but not cautiously enough. Still, the damage done by the darts which hit me is far from lethal. Inside the casket is a sealed scroll, which I open. On it is written a message indicating that the helm of protection is in the glass case, followed by a straightforward numerical puzzle that provides the correct combination for opening the case.

For thoroughness' sake I check out the tapestry, which tells me that I'll need to find the scroll before I try to get into the glass case. Having already found it, I automatically proceed to the case, and it turns out to be a good thing that I did look at the tapestry, as I wouldn't be able to find the concealed switch on the side of the case without a hint provided by the tapestry. The switch causes half a dozen columns to appear on the glass, each with a different number of helms in it. I touch the columns corresponding to the digits of the solution to the puzzle, and one side of the case slides open, allowing me to take the helm within.

My familiarity with gamebook foibles enables me to make ominous inferences from the options for leaving the room. I shan't explain the thought processes in tedious detail, but I think I should have taken the other exit from the chamber with the pool, and now I'm probably going to miss out on something helpful. Still, there is a slim chance that I might be able to get what I've missed without consequently missing something else, so I'll give that a shot.

Taking the north-west exit, I follow a meandering passage to a firelit chamber, and the description of the exits is not encouraging. Still, now that I'm here, I may as well have a proper look around. In an alcove is a stone table, with a glyph-inscribed marble box and a cloth-wrapped rectangular object on it. I pick up the cloth bundle, which contains a book. There's writing on the cover in both the language I speak and glyphs like the carving on the box. Turning my attention to the box, I attempt to decipher the inscription with the aid of the book.

This puzzle is a little more sophisticated than most of the substitution ciphers found in gamebooks, as there are a few characters that represent combinations of letters in addition to the 26 corresponding to the Roman alphabet. Not all of these combination characters appear in the inscription, so either there are more of these puzzles to come or the author went above and beyond what was essential for solving this one. And there's a second inscription inside the box, but that doesn't use those characters either. Following the directions, I use some of the powder contained in the box, which induces a vision that provides a couple of hints about dealing with Rock Trolls (and a section number to turn to if I should have cause to act on this information). Nice to know, but maybe not as helpful as what I'd have discovered if I'd taken the other exit from the room with the helm in.

I have no choice but to take the exit to the north. This leads to another door, and listening indicates only that the room beyond may be occupied. It is, by an Ogre who's roasting meat on a spit. He asks what I want, and I can be honest, rude or aggressive. I'll tell the truth. The Ogre observes that others have come to kill Dagmor and failed, and indicates that he'd like to be left alone. I risk asking what he knows about his immediate environs, and he tells me that a Wyvern lives to the east, and he'd very much like it if I could bother that instead of him.

As I turn towards the exit leading east, the Ogre attempts a sneak attack, but on this occasion I succeed at the Fate/Fortune roll and dodge the knife he throws at me. Over the course of the ensuing battle he manages to land a couple of lucky blows on me, but once he's dead, I decide not to let his food go to waste, and it restores as much Strength as I lost in the fight.

Now I can go east unhindered, and find myself in a chamber with a hole in the roof, through which the sun is shining. Having been forewarned of what I can expect to encounter here, I stay close to the wall in order to reduce the number of angles from which I can be attacked. The sound of beating wings heralds the arrival of the Wyvern, the remnants of its last kill still in its mouth, and I climb up to the ledge on which it has perched. My Fate/Fortune lets me down and I stumble, attracting the Wyvern's attention and missing out on a chance to sever its sting before battle commences. Not that it matters in the end: the Wyvern never gets a fighting power sufficient to use the sting on me, and I don't lose a single round in this fight.

After helping myself to the tip of the tail, I leave the chamber. The path forks again. Maybe north-east will be a good idea this time... And it leads to a torchlit chamber containing both the Dragonshield and a Rock Troll, the latter apparently napping on the floor. I say 'apparently' because that vision told me that Rock Trolls often feign sleep in order to surprise their enemies. An amusingly blatant instance of section number padding follows: I am asked if I want to make use of any knowledge I might have gained regarding Rock Trolls, and when I turn to the section indicated, it tells me to turn to the section number I was told to note down earlier.

While my vision-derived knowledge enables me to avoid the Rock Troll's ambush, my mediocre Fate/Fortune denies me the opportunity to exploit the weakness also highlighted in the vision, so I have to fight. Despite being described as having a low Dexterity, the Rock Troll actually has a higher Dexterity than the Minotaur and the Wyvern, and I take a bit of a beating before subduing it and helping myself to the Dragonshield.

Continuing on my way, I reach a dead end, and a trapdoor opens beneath me. Another failed Fate/Fortune roll causes me to take some damage from the fall, so I eat another meal before moving on. There's a door to the north, so I check that out. Listening at it reveals that something is bubbling in the room beyond, and somebody is pacing back and forth. I must have hit my head quite hard in the fall, as I have no idea what could be bubbling even though I'm well aware that there's a potion maker living somewhere in these caves.

I knock on the door, and the thought processes outlined in the text back up my theory that my character is now mildly concussed. A voice tells me to "Come in, if you must!", so I enter. The bubbling comes from a cauldron, and the occupant of the room looks irritable, so I apologise for disturbing him. He asks why I'm here, and I risk giving him a straight answer - there is also the option of not mentioning my quest, and just asking if he's the potion maker. The man warns me of an evil individual who lives in a blue glowing cave and likes to kill outsiders, and is rumoured to be the keeper of a powerful magic sword.

I can follow up this lead or stay and chat a while longer, so I choose to stick around. In the course of the ensuing conversation I learn that he is the potion maker after all, so I provide him with the ingredients I've collected, and he sets to work blending them into the potion. When he's finished, he reveals that he is cursed to remain in this room as long as Dagmor lives, so succeeding in my quest is all I need do to repay him for his assistance.

Before moving on, I eat again, as I remember from past attempts that the man the potion maker mentioned is a dangerous opponent, and I'm liable to take a lot of damage fighting him. That is, if I do encounter him: the passage forks again, and there's no mention of a distant blue glow either way, so I'm going to have to guess which direction to take.

On reflection, I may have been wrong about that first north-easterly passage being a bad choice. I have the helm, the potion and the Dragonshield, and the only reason I don't have Albus the Avenger is that I haven't yet got far enough to have the opportunity. I got the warnings about the Wyvern and the Rock Troll, and I've seen no indication of there having been other clues that I didn't find. So what could I have missed out on?

Well, if north-east was okay the first time and the better option the second time, will it be the right way to go again on this occasion? My gamebook manager has no data on the section for going that way, so that's a no. This will be a learning experience, then.

The passage shows signs of not having been used in a while. Some way along it, I find an alcove, which I investigate. Scraping away the dirt and slime on the wall, I find an inscription that poses a riddle. Simple stuff, and answering it provides me with a ring of fire resistance. Not as useful as the sword would have been, but better than nothing.

Continuing along the passage, I reach a large chamber, littered with corpses. Oh, and in the middle there's a whacking great mound of treasure with a massive Dragon squatting on it. Funny that I didn't notice that first.

After downing the potion, I advance on the Dragon. The combination of Dragonshield, potion and ring will reduce the damage his fiery breath does by four quarters, but the extra damage I'd be doing if I had Albus the Avenger would still give me better odds of winning the fight.

Dagmor looks into my eyes, but the helm protects me from his attempts at charming me. He then bathes me with flames, which, as noted above, do zero damage, before attacking with tooth and claw. And, as expected, the Dexterity disparity does for me again. I win one round of combat (and with the alternate stats I'd have managed two) before being added to the assortment of corpses in the chamber.

An unsurprising outcome, but the adventure proved a little more enjoyable than anticipated, with a couple of instances of wit that I'd previously failed to appreciate. Not one of Proteus' finest, but nowhere near as awful as some others, even with that killer of a final fight.

Tell the Animals in the Undergrowth

For logistical reasons, my family's 2016 Christmas get-together took place in my childhood home town of Tunbridge Wells. As I don't drive (in the real world - gamebooks are a different matter) and public transport doesn't run on Christmas Day (nor even Christmas Eve in some instances), I had to travel down a couple of days in advance, so I took advantage of the opportunity to check out the local second-hand and charity shops while I was there. In the (since then closed) Barnardo's shop near Tesco, a small bundle of books caught my eye. Four slim trade paperbacks in a browse-proof criss-cross of wrapping ribbon. While the packaging prevented me from looking in the books, and from seeing anything more than the spines of the middle two, I could still get a proper look at the front cover of the top book and the back cover of the fourth one, and between the slogan 'Live or die, YOU decide' on the former and the blurb on the latter, it was easy to confirm that this was a series of gamebooks I'd not previously encountered.

What little the ribbon permitted me to read made it clear that Tracey Turner's Lost books were all about trying to survive in hostile environments. No fantasy or SF elements, definitely no Smoke Monster, just a selection of real-world perils. Which was not a problem in and of itself - Edward Packard's similarly-themed Mountain Survival had been one of the more enjoyable of the Choose Your Own Adventure books I'd read back in the 1980s. Nevertheless, being unable to get a proper look at the books made me wary.

The local library was only a few minutes' walk away, so I went there and used one of the public computers to do a little research, thereby discovering that gamebook fandom had little to no awareness of the series. While that meant that there were no reviews to indicate the quality of the writing and playability, it also meant that the books were obscure enough to have some tradable value even if they turned out to be rubbish, so I went back to the shop and bought them.

An attempt at the first book, Lost in the Jungle of Doom, made a few things clear. Firstly, it was nowhere near the worst gamebook I'd ever played. Secondly, the back cover's claim 'With choices on every page...' was incorrect - some pages are informative sidebars, some merely redirect the reader to a new page, and around a score of them end in character death. Thirdly, the book could be tricky. My character got eaten by a black caiman because of a decision prompted by advice in a sidebar. But that wasn't one of those annoying 'gotcha!' incidents found in some gamebooks, just a reflection of the fact that what would normally be a sensible course of action may prove inadvisable when other factors come into play.

Assorted distractions kept me from replaying Jungle or attempting any of the others in the series until recently. But, while I was pretty inactive on this blog during the first half of the year, I was still playing gamebooks some of the time - just concentrating on ones I didn't plan to cover here. When it comes to interactive fiction that's low on the 'game' aspect (little to no random element, fewer and lengthier sections), I tend to repeatedly read the books until I've gone through every section. Or gone through all the decisions and found that there is no in-story way of reaching some sections (whether through authorial intent or error). And that's what I'm currently doing with Jungle. Which is what led to a new discovery about the book.

I had assumed that every choice had just one non-lethal option. So after my first failure this year (getting eaten by the same black caiman under slightly different circumstances), I decided to get some of the dead-end choices out of the way before having another go at completing the book. Otherwise, once I finally beat the book, my obsessive side would compel me to follow up victory with a long series of idiotic demises just so I could tick the 'Read' box for Jungle on my book database. Thus, on my next replay I chose to venture into the cave I had previously avoided and find out the nature of the occupant that would kill me.

Only I didn't die. At least, not upon entering the cave (that didn't happen until I carelessly trod on a bushmaster and got lethally bitten several decisions later). It turns out that, just as some not-inherently-bad decisions nevertheless have fatal consequences, so some sub-optimal choices turn out not to lead straight to death. My loose characterisation of the Lost gamebooks as a variant of the 'puzzle book' subgenre was less accurate than I'd thought, so maybe it would be worth adding them to the list of titles covered in the blog after all. Hence this post.

The adventure starts with my character's regaining consciousness in the wreck of a small plane. I remember that I was on a flight from Bogota to Rio de Janeiro, and that a mid-air collision of some kind - most likely a bird strike - took out one of the propellors and caused the plane to crash. Somehow I survived with only minor injuries, but I'm now alone, somewhere in the depths of the Amazon Rainforest, equipped with only the clothes I'm wearing, a battered metal container salvaged from the wreck, and a Swiss army knife that airport security inexplicably allowed me to retain. Can I make my way back to civilisation, or will I join the ranks of those who disappeared without trace in the Amazon?

After establishing the premise, the book gives me a few pages of exposition. There's a brief summary of different things here that could kill me - large predators, smaller dangerous animals, disease-carrying insects, poisonous plants, contaminated water, flash floods - as well as some description of the local flora (not much undergrowth because the tree canopy lets little light through) and how noisy the place can get, especially when the nocturnal denizens are out and about. A list of survival tips follows, incidentally making the point that my clothes and footwear are fortuitously practical, covering most of my skin but not being too heavy for the climate. So there are a couple of errors in the cover illustration, what with the short sleeves and ankle-exposing trousers depicted.

It's getting late, and I am aware that travelling at night would be a bad idea, but I also need some kind of shelter to protect me from animals that hunt at night. I can build something, or investigate a nearby cave. Since it was the cave that made me aware this book could be blog-worthy, I'll go with that.

As I approach, I become aware of an unpleasant smell emanating from the cave mouth. The ground nearby is soft with droppings, making me aware that something must be occupying the cave already - and then a large cloud of vampire bats flies out. They startle me, but do not attack. Nevertheless, I reflect that they are liable to return before sunrise (if I were Aussiesmurf I'd be tempted to post a photo of Julie Delpy round about now), and decide I'd be better off spending the night elsewhere. A page of facts about vampire bats precedes the next decision, and the mention that they sometimes carry rabies includes a pointer to another fact page which goes into detail about the disease.

Rain begins to fall, and I realise that building a shelter is no longer a practical option. There is another cave not far away, so I take a chance on that one rather than continuing to explore. This cave proves to be unoccupied (and free from disease-carrying corpses), so I cover a patch of the floor with large leaves and my waterproof jacket before bedding down for the night.

A growling sound from outside wakes me. Oddly, the book gives me no choice but to investigate, but that proves informative from a metagaming perspective: had I built myself a shelter, I would have heard the same noise and been allowed to decide whether or not I wanted to find out what was making it, and on both routes it's the same page for taking a look - which means that unless the book is sloppily structured, there's little likelihood of a 'you didn't notice at the time, but you got scratched by a bat and infected with rabies, so you die horribly' ending later on. Such shenanigans - that is, a 'wrong' decision right at the start guaranteeing failure, but no indication that the reader's character already has no chance of winning - are not unheard-of.

Anyway, I cautiously approach the area from which the sound emanated, and eventually notice the jaguar that made the growl. Running away is almost certainly the sort of 'looks like a bad idea' option that will get me killed, so I stand my ground and do what I can to create the impression of being neither threatening nor prey. Slowly backing away, I get out of sight of the jaguar and hear it moving off in search of something unambiguously edible.

That encounter made me sweat, which reminds me that I need to find drinking water. The facing page is full of facts about smart and not-so-clever ways of getting water in the rainforest, with pointers to other pages that say more about getting water from bamboo and the advisability of boiling water. Slightly carelessly, the bamboo info page is also the page for deciding to use bamboo as a water source, so seeking information effectively compels you to make that choice, but it's probably the smartest option anyway, so I'm not massively bothered about it.

Anyway, with the help of some bamboo I get enough drinkable water to slake my thirst, which just makes me aware that I'm also hungry. Close by, a fallen tree has made enough of a hole in the tree canopy to permit some growth at ground level, and the young vegetation includes a tree with fruit that resemble papayas. My character is more familiar with papaya than I am, and cuts open a fruit, discovering that the resemblance continues beneath the skin, and extends to the smell. If it's something toxic, it's doing a very good job of impersonating edible fruit.

The facing page is another informative sidebar, this one on surviving without food and water, which makes the point that you can last a lot longer without eating than you can without drinking. Nevertheless, I'm probably going to have to eat something here sooner or later, and it's less of a risk to sample a fruit that seems identical to something I know I can eat than to try a completely unknown quantity, so I taste a probable papaya, and it turns out to be what I thought it was.

After eating my fill, I contemplate picking more papayas to take with me, but as attempting that is what led to my fatal encounter with a snake the last time I got this far, I will leave the rest of the fruit on the tree, and hope to find something else edible by the time I need to eat again.

For a while I walk on, but my feet are beginning to hurt, so I sit on a handy log and remove my shoes and socks. The soles of my feet are disconcertingly pale and wrinkly. This could be a warning sign of a condition mentioned in an earlier info-dump, which could lead to infection and death, so I'll take a break and hope that giving my feet a good airing will keep things from getting too much worse.

Right choice. A convenient stream enables me to wash my socks, and giving them and my boots time to dry out helps avert, or at least delay, the onset of a potentially crippling bout of warm water immersion foot. Once my footwear is dry again, I put it back on and get ready to resume my trek.

A chirping sound draws my attention to a tiny blue frog at the foot of a tree. I'm pretty sure that bright colours on frogs are usually an indicator that they produce some of the most potent naturally-occurring toxins in the world, so I make a swift departure, hoping that I haven't just missed out on a chance of getting directions to a nearby tavern.

Noise from overhead heralds the arrival of a group of monkeys. They notice me, and stop swinging through the trees. A little disconcerting, but I don't think running away would be an appropriate response. Trying to follow them when they resume their travels might not be advisable, though. Even if they don't get territorial and hostile, concentrating on them would increase the danger of failing to notice something hazardous at ground level.

The monkeys pause for a meal, dropping some fruit and leaves, then swing away. I consider sampling one of the avocado-like fruits, but choose not to push my luck: I've already eaten today, and substances that do no harm to one species are not necessarily safe for another. The list of facts about Amazon monkeys on the facing page says nothing about how their digestive systems compare to humans', but that doesn't mean there's no risk.

Time passes. I decide that I need to find a river, as most of the native human population will live near one. If ghosts existed in this gamebook series, a couple might pop up to mention that black caimans also make use of the rivers, but these books are more concerned with the natural than the supernatural. Following the sound of trickling water, I find a stream and follow it until it joins a river. There's more bamboo close by, and I use some of it to build a raft. Another sidebar gives advice on raft construction, and I hope my character knew the thing about using cross poles to increase sturdiness, because I get no input into the raft-making process.

Drifting down river is a lot less hard work than trudging through the jungle, but also means that I'm no longer in the shade, and the heat of the sun soon becomes uncomfortable. Stopping to build a rudimentary shelter seems like a smart thing to do. In the short term, the exertion of punting to the riverbank makes me feel worse, but more bamboo provides water to stave off dehydration, and the stems provide some of the materials for constructing a crude tepee.

Back on the water and now shielded from the sun, I drift off - in more than one sense. Waking from my doze, I find the raft in shallow water near the riverbank, and see that there's something alive close by. The text says it looks like a small hippo, but the accompanying illustration looks more like a manatee. Should I go back onto dry land, or return to the main stream of the river? If the animal is a hippo, I'd be better off out of the water, but manatees aren't as dangerous, so I'll take a punt on steering back to the current. Yes, that works all right.

Further down the river I encounter some more animals. There are otters swimming in the water. Should I join them? It would be an opportunity to cool down and get clean, and they probably wouldn't be here if there were any major predators in the vicinity. Nor are they likely to pose much of a threat themselves - you can kill an otter in about a second. Except that, rather than being small, they're far away: these are giant river otters, and while they're still not particularly dangerous to humans (the sidebar on giant river otters stresses that they have far more to fear from people), swimming in their midst is not recommended. Still, the distance that caused me to underestimate their size also means that they take a while to reach me, and by the time they get close, I'm back on the raft and out of harm's way.

While keeping an eye out for another source of drinking water, I catch sight of a rowing boat in a clump of trees. It's in pretty shabby condition, and those trees could house something nasty, so I opt not to investigate it. Still, it's an encouraging sign that I'm not the first human to have come to this stretch of the river. And before long I see further evidence of people: a hut made of rusting corrugated iron, with another boat tied up at a rickety jetty nearby. I punt over to the jetty, tie up the raft, and investigate a well-worn trail leading into the vegetation.

Around a bend I find a village, and while I don't speak the local language, that doesn't stop the villagers from providing practical assistance. My wounds are dressed, an air ambulance is summoned, and before long I'm on my way home. Success, on only my fourth attempt.

Several more pages of factual information follow, providing data about the Amazon Rainforest and the people who live in it, and a couple of real-life examples of individuals who survived getting lost there. There's also an index, but I'll avoid that for now, as there's obvious spoiler potential in seeing, for example, which pages mention anacondas. I do still intend to explore the paths not taken, and while there are over a dozen deaths I have yet to encounter, I'm sure there's at least one more viable route through the book, so I can try to finish off with another victory. As far as this blog is concerned, I've finished with the book, but I still have another three in the series, and I note that there are a further two that I don't yet own, so they're going on the want list.

I Hate Every Ape I See

The contents of issue 5 of Warlock magazine included a multi-player scenario for the Fighting Fantasy rôle-playing game, In Search of the Mungies' Gold, by Steve Jackson (the British one). Though I did at one point run a campaign using FFRPG, I never put the group through Search, largely because (spoiler alert) the player-versus-player bloodbath with which it was supposed to end was not exactly conducive to campaign play.

At some point after the announcement that Ian Livingstone was developing his non-FF mini-adventure Eye of the Dragon into a new(ish) FF gamebook, a rumour started circulating that Steve was similarly going to turn Search into a gamebook. I don’t know if the rumour had any basis in reality, or if it was just some fans’ wishful thinking/searching for new reasons to complain about Wizard Books. In any case, nothing came of it, and the next sort-of-new-though-based-on-old-material FF book to come out was Bloodbones.

Then, some years later, a single-player adaptation of Search was published, though not in the way suggested by the rumours. Instead of being a semi-new addition to the Wizard range, it was the mini-adventure in issue 4 of Fighting Fantazine, and it had been adapted by Warren McGuire rather than Steve Jackson (though with Steve's permission).

Having read the source material back in the 1980s, I could remember some of the encounters in the original scenario, and this did influence some of my actions when I previously had a go at Search. Maybe I would have been wary of a certain encounter in any case, but the knowledge that there was a cerebrophagous Champaque around somewhere enhanced my suspicion. As I recall (my playthrough being another of the ones lost when the forum hosting it was deleted), my character eventually attracted too much attention, and died in combat against a large group of some kind of simian. Probably Howl Cats (misleadingly named on account of the lion’s mane-esque ruff of fur they have), but there are several different varieties of ape in the adventure, and I may be getting them mixed up.

The Warlock version of Search wasn’t really substantial enough to make for a decent mini-adventure on its own, and the Background section of the Fantazine variant makes it clear that the expansion of the original material has been handled differently from the way Ian Livingstone turned Eye into a full-length gamebook. Whereas Eye seemed to just cram in lots of new encounters willy-nilly, Search makes the Warlock material part of a bigger picture. The basic premise (Mungies are a species of ape that crave gold even more than humans do, rumour has it that they’ve pilfered a vast quantity and stockpiled it somewhere near the Cloudcap Mountains, you’ve decided to seek this treasure and take it for yourself) is still there, but this information is presented against a backdrop of events that have no direct connection with it. Doubtless at least some of them will become relevant for anyone who survives long enough...

It is around the time of the Sorcery! saga. Various factors are contributing to unrest on the streets of Kharé: fortune-hunters seeking to grab a share of the vast sums being paid for the addictively tasty delicacy known as the Mutton Fish, rioting in response to the Merchants’ Guild’s attempts to impose licensing on this new trade, fears of an invasion from Analand in the wake of the theft of the Crown of Kings (they didn't have much to worry about there, did they?), and concerns over the Archmage of Mampang’s sudden rise to prominence. Troubled times generally providing good business for the adventurous, I have travelled to Kharé to try and take advantage of the brouhaha, and it is there that I hear of Jan van Harack’s doomed expedition to find the Mungies’ gold. Only three of van Harack’s party returned, and before dying of fever, they confirmed that they had found great mounds of gold, but had been driven off by numerous frenzied Mungies. For some deranged reason I believe that I might be able to succeed where a large and well-equipped group failed, and arrange for a fisherman I know to provide me with passage to the region.

In addition to the standard stats, I get to pick three Special Skills from a list, and I have a Disturbance score, which starts at 0 but increases whenever anything that is liable to attract attention occurs (whether it's my fault or not), and can lead to run-ins with a wide range of predators if it gets too high. Allocating the dice, I get:
Skill 11
Stamina 14
Luck 11
and I select Climb, Observation and Sneak as my Special Skills.

I start out with a decent amount of money but no Provisions, so a trip to the market before I set off seems like a good idea. The stalls sell assorted items in addition to food, and while it’s possible that some are of no use in this adventure, there are a couple of things listed that I’d rather have and not need than need and not have. Hoping that my Climb Special Skill will eliminate the need for rope and grapple, I get a Potion of Fortune, a string of garlic, a skeleton key and an Ivory Mungie figurine, spending what remains on food. The Mungie figurine turns out to be a powerful lucky charm, so even if it doesn’t somehow provide protection from the Mungie horde guarding the Mungie hoard, it’s a worthwhile purchase.

Proceeding towards the docks, I see a fancily-dressed man entertaining the crowds with a hat-wearing Mungie on a leash. Luck determines what happens here, and but for that charm, things would not have gone well for me. As it is, I proceed to the harbour without being robbed, assaulted, cursed, or whatever it is that would have happened on an Unlucky roll.

We set off across Lake Lumlé, and Jilani, the boat's owner, tells me assorted geographical facts on which I hope I'm not going to be quizzed later. After spending the night on Nilgiri Island, we set off again the following morning, and Jilani is just starting to give me what could be some useful information about birds that act as guides to travellers when a shoal of Flying Fish attacks and distracts us. I drive the fish off, but one has fallen into the boat and is flapping around, helpless. The last time I played this, I attempted to add the fish to my Provisions, thereby discovering that it is not edible and will spoil the rest of my food if brought into contact with it. In view of that, I think cooking the fish here and now is unlikely to be wise, which only leaves the option of throwing the fish back into the water. I do that, and the ungrateful cod bites me. (Taxonomic error intentional for the sake of a lousy pun.)

At last we reach the north shore of the lake, and as there's no natural harbour to be seen, Jilani gets as close to land as he can before I disembark. Or possibly just pretends to for a joke, as I sink to my waist in mud as soon as I leave the boat. As Luck would have it, I experience nothing worse than embarrassment (incidentally, the directions for being Unlucky and Lucky are not in the conventional order here, though the section numbers are still right).

Jilani tries another area, where the terra proves that bit more firma, and we part company, Jilani promising to stay for five days. I set off towards the forest that stands between me and the mountains, and a scrawny lunatic rushes out from the trees, yelling fit to give me a Disturbance point, and attacks me with his teeth and nails. On my previous attempt, I spared his life after beating him down to his last couple of Stamina points, and he launched into a rant that I shouldn't have found as amusing as I did, as a result of which I gained another point of Disturbance. This time round I fight my crazed assailant to the death, and incur a Luck penalty for my lack of mercy. That's two unavoidable encounters in which every decision has a less-than-desirable outcome. If I wanted to be penalised no matter what I do, I can think of a couple of online communities that would welcome me back with open opprobrium. I don't need this sort of thing in gamebooks.

Two paths lead into the forested foothills of the mountains. I don't remember which one I took before, or what happened to me on it, so all I have to go on is the choice between a valley and the edge of a ridge. I'll go with the valley. My gamebook manager reveals that this is not what I chose to do on my previous attempt, so whatever I encounter will be new to me.

After travelling for a while, I catch sight of a Jubalani tree. Its fruit are a rare delicacy. Stopping to pick some will doubtless lead to some kind of trouble, but judging by the last couple of encounters, passing by may also have adverse consequences, so I might as well make the bad decision that could net me something of value.

My approaching the tree disturbs the Skunkbear that I failed to notice scavenging fallen fruits in the undergrowth. So not only do I attract attention with almost everything I do, but (even with Observation) I'm also spectacularly oblivious to the activities of whatever local fauna might be around until my clodhopping provokes them into hostile action. I can't help but notice that the section number for retreating is the same as the one for not approaching the tree (and that there's a 'to' missing from one of the sentences). Backing away reveals that the section isn't ideally suited to covering both 'walk past without approaching the tree' and 'attempt to move away from a hostile animal without provoking it to attack'. I've seen worse section transitions, but it's still a bit clumsy. Unless it's indicating that my character's lack of awareness is so profound that as soon as I look away from the Skunkbear, I forget that it's even there.

Moving away, I reach a junction, and the Observation Special Skill that proved so useless at detecting large furry animals chomping on windfalls enables me to spot boot-prints in the ground along one of the turnings. I might as well check to see what the wearer of the boots is up to, though I am a little concerned that this could lead to an encounter I vaguely remember provoking a bit of a rant on my previous attempt.

It's something else. I find a log cabin, showing plenty of signs of being in use. I can retrace my steps to the fork in the path and go the other way, or I can proceed to what looks like another 'every outcome is undesirable' choice: offend the occupant by barging in uninvited, or gain Disturbance by yelling a greeting. I’ll risk a shout.

No response, just another point of Disturbance. I must turn back or take a look inside. Might as well investigate. I have the option of helping myself to some of the contents, but the items listed are mostly food and weapons (well, a literalistic reading of the text would allow for the taking of a lit wood-burner, a table, a chair and a bed, but I think the intent is that only the items in the third and fourth sentences of the paragraph are up for grabs), so this could be the home of a survivalist, and that’s not the kind of person you want to annoy by stealing his stuff.

Especially when it turns out that he did hear me calling out, and is standing right behind me with an axe in his hand. Not unreasonably, he asks what I’m doing in here, and I’m offered a choice between talking and attacking him. This isn’t Firetop Mountain, so invading the man’s home and killing him would not be appropriate behaviour. Beyond checking whether or not I’ve helped myself to any of the Woodsman’s possessions, the text is a little vague on how the conversation gets started, but it appears that I avoid making any further social blunders, and the man invites me to a meal.

While we’re eating, I attempt to gain the benefits of his local knowledge, asking what he knows of hazards I might encounter while exploring the region. He mentions a variety of hostile fauna that will do nothing good for my life expectancy, and when I ask how he copes, he indicates his axe. Not massively helpful, then, but he does also warn me to avoid all contact with the Shield Maidens of Lumlé, as they will not tolerate my presence in their territory.

As I prepare to set off again, the Woodsman offers me a couple of Provisions’ worth of food, and if I’d lost my boots back when I sank into the mud, he’d provide me with replacements. There’s another proofreading error as I head back to the fork in the path; the text says ‘you’ where it should be ‘your’.

That other turning leads down to a valley, where a cloud of midges bites away a point of my Stamina. That’s not the worst that could happen here, but my Disturbance score is just low enough that the combination of my Sneak Special Skill and my high Skill score makes it impossible for me to get a bad outcome on this check.

Eventually the path forks again, and Observation assists me in spotting a couple of small birds following a line of ants along one trail. Are these the sort of bird that Jilani was telling me about? When a gamebook author provides clues, it's generally advisable to follow them, so I go the same way as the birds, which turns out to take me back into territory I covered on my first go at the adventure.

After a while, the trail leads through a clearing with another obviously occupied hut in it. I head across to the door, and see that the hut is occupied by a stereotypical Witch concocting something in a cauldron. She turns to look at me, and I greet her: no point in being needlessly aggressive. She points out that it's wise to seek shelter for the night around here, and as it's now getting late, she will allow me to stay in her hut if I'm willing to pay the price. I lack most of the items she'll accept as payment, and that Mungie figurine is too valuable to hand over, so I make my apologies and leave. The Witch cackles as I depart, but takes no hostile action.

It starts to get dark. Trudging on through the night seems like a very bad idea, so I stop and make camp between a couple of fallen logs, startling a Monitor Lizard that was hiding under one of them, but suffering no adverse consequences. Settling down for the night, I soon doze off, but a while later some snuffling sounds close by wake me. I remember this from before, and I'm not going to make the same mistake twice - unless this turns out to be another 'every choice is a bad one' situation, in which keeping quiet and still turns out to have a worse outcome than investigating.

Nothing untoward happens, and after a while I doze off again. When I wake, I am startled to find that I have company: a small furry creature is sleeping on my stomach. Based on my memories of having played Search before, plus the description of my strange bedfellow, I’m pretty sure that this is a Jib-Jib – a harmless animal, but with a voice like a megaphone-toting Brian Blessed who’s just stubbed his toe. Waking it is liable to mean an increase in Disturbance, so I will attempt to shift the snoozing furball without rousing it, and hope that my lack of the Deftness Special Skill doesn’t cause me to fumble. Alas, the Skill penalty for not having Deftness is just enough to deny me success, so I startle the Jib-Jib and it emits a roar out of proportion with its small size before running off, continuing to shriek as it goes.

It’s definitely time I was on my way again. Elvins in the trees pelt me with acorns. I’m getting a bit tired of these unavoidable minor Stamina penalties – first the fish bite, then the insects, and now this. Food and rest have made good the first two, so it’s not as if this is the sort of attrition that contributed to my failing Prey of the Hunter the first time round. Just a series of tedious niggling amendments to my Character Sheet.

Threatening the Elvins seems unwise: I’m not going to be able to do anything to them while they’re up there (and my memories of one of the more ignominious deaths in Wizards, Warriors & You would make me wary of firing up into the trees if I had a bow and arrows), and responding to their provocation is likely to just encourage them, potentially leading to further Stamina loss, increased Disturbance, or even magical pranks. I ignore them and, after a little half-hearted mockery, they leave me alone.

Continuing on my way, I hear what sounds like a fight taking place somewhere to the left. Maybe this is what leads to the troubling encounter I mentioned earlier: the aftermath of a battle is a plausible setting for being offered the opportunity to murder a wounded Shield Maiden and steal her stuff. This time round I haven’t had my Provisions spoiled by that fish, so I could potentially try and offer help, but in view of the Woodsman’s warning and the way the adventure has previously penalised both mercy and the lack thereof, it’s probably safest not to get involved at all.

I keep going, and incur another minor Stamina penalty, this one for the hardship of slogging uphill on a muddy path. That would be a seriously rubbish way to die, and I’m sure it could happen with the right combination of regrettable choices and bad luck. On the other side of the hill I catch sight of a Resplendent Quetzal, a bird with golden plumage that is highly prized by people who like wearing bits of animal. I could try and help myself to a tailfeather or two, but doing so would be cruel (unless I’m looking for shed feathers, which is not what the text implies), and is liable to add Disturbance. Besides, another minor proofreading error has already deprived Quetzal of its definite article, so I think it’s suffered enough already.

I descend to a valley with a river running through it, and if I felt the need for a wash (perhaps as a consequence of getting into a tussle with that Skunkbear), I could bathe in the water here. Tracks run both upstream and downstream, and on this occasion there’s nothing for Observation to pick up on. Still, downstream probably leads back to the lake, and I don’t want to go back there just yet, so I head upstream.

That’s what I did last time. The trail leads into some trees, and the leaf canopy overhead adds a greenish tinge to the light. A voice with a peculiar accent starts making small talk. I still suspect that this is a Champaque impersonating a human in order to lure me to my death and eat my brains (though I doubt that he has a patio under which to hide the remains), so I don’t loiter.

The voice continues to speak, and the fact that the speaker is carrying on his side of a conversation even though I’m not giving the replies to which he is responding convinces me that there’s something dodgy afoot here, so I keep moving. And maybe somebody has been snacking on my brains, because I have zero recollection of having been attacked in spite of refusing the conversational bait, and yet that’s what happens now, and is indicated by my gamebook manager to have happened before. Odd, because getting hit with unavoidable Stamina damage and a temporary Attack Strength penalty for exercising caution is the sort of authorial unfairness that gets me ranting, and it’s not like me to forget a gamebook-inspired rant. This time round I lose the fight, so I doubt that I'll so easily forget Mr McGuire's shenanigans the next time I play Search.

The Value of Not Being Seen

As I write this, those who expressed an opinion on how I should interpret the outcome of the fight against the Chaos-master in Lone Wolf book 11 have unanimously been in favour of Lone Wolf's narrowly surviving the battle and continuing his quest. I shall, consequently, resume my playthrough of The Prisoners of Time, and if there are any further differences in opponent stats between the original and revised texts, I shall go with the Mongoose variant.

I'm glad that the book's claim that the Chaos-master's dying shriek is 'loud enough to wake the dead' is not literally true, as I'm in no fit state to deal with a bunch of undead Ironheart ancestors shambling out of the Sepulchre to complain about my recent visit. The Chaos-master's corpse vanishes, which is probably good news for the locals, as hygienically disposing of a 30ft-tall cadaver would not have been a straightforward task.

Ironheart's troops are delighted that the Chaos-master is dead, and start organising victory celebrations. I don't stick around, mainly because I need to get a move on and recover the final Lorestone, but also just in case the Meledorians have a tradition of honouring military champions by summarily executing them. Ironheart understands my need for haste, and offers to appoint another scout to accompany me on my way. Probably the trooper who most gets on his nerves; with fewer opportunities for friendly fire incidents following the defeat of the enemy leader, the high fatality rate among my companions is liable to be the best way of discreetly eliminating an annoyance.

My uncertainty about what to do here is all a bit metagamey. If travelling unaccompanied results in my passing through more sections before the next encounter, it's the better option because I'll recover more Endurance through Healing. If it just means I get to run into trouble sooner, accepting the guide would be preferable. Well, if I choose poorly, I'm sure someone who knows Lone Wolf better will post a comment berating me for avoiding the optimal route through the book. It's also possible (though unlikely, given the lack of opportunity to ask the late Odel about that lichen) that accepting the guide will take me through more sections. Right now my character is in such poor health that I'd almost welcome one of those lengthy strings of decision-free exposition that contributed to the burdensome nature of the first half of this adventure.

I'll accept the guide. His name is Arke, and he helps me to evade the remnants of the Chaos-master's army between Tolakos and the Plain of Guakor, through which I must pass on my way to the city from which the Lorestone-thief came. Probably a wise choice, then. Along the way we find plenty that's edible in the forest, and I collect a few Meals' worth of excess food. Wonder if that means the Plain (or the Wasteland that follows it) will be Huntmastery-proofed.

Once we get to the Plain, we part company, and the still-living Arke heads back east to disappoint Ironheart. I set out across the plain, and randomness dictates what happens next. For a while I trudge across the desolate region, reflecting that this is how Sommerlund will end up if I don't get home and defeat the Darklords, and then I spot something in the sky. For some reason I don't get to use my telescopic vision, and must wait for the flying creature to get much closer before I can see that it's a dragon-like beast known as a Zhengha. My Endurance is still pretty low, so I shall try to hide.

The cover available is negligible, but Invisibility and my experience help, so I have no more chance of being detected than of being crushed by a falling mast, getting a Vassagonian sniper's arrow through the skull, plummeting to my doom on a dying Itikar or failing to hit Zakhan Kimah with the Dagger of Vashna. Oh dear. Still, as long as I get 1 or above, I should be okay.

And where was that 0 during the Chaos-master fight, when it would have done me some good? Back then I got lots of 3s, and a 3 would have been great here, but no, I had to get the mediocre results in combat, and then conceal myself about as effectively as a blue whale in a photo booth. The Zhengha spots me and lands nearby, and further randomness determines what happens as the brute prepares to breathe fire. Huntmastery or Nexus will improve my odds, and the Mongoose text suggests that some fans may have been creatively misinterpreting the text, as there's an edit to specify that you don't get to claim the bonus twice over if you have both Disciplines. Still, applying it just the once does narrowly suffice to get me the less unfavourable outcome. Which is zero damage, rather than the reduced-but-not-necessarily-lethal damage I was expecting.

I still have to fight, though. My Combat Skill is slightly higher, but the Endurance difference means I'll have to be luckier than I have been of late to survive long enough to kill the Zhengha. In the first round of the fight I get the worst possible result. In the second round I do as badly as I could without actually getting killed outright. Things do not improve in the third round, after which I'm too dead to go on.

Definitely a *Very Slim* Chance

The fact that the mini-adventure in the Mongoose edition of Lone Wolf book 10 consists of a series of further (albeit imagined-yet-potentially-harmful) escapades for the main character, combined with my failure to successfully complete it (owing to its defying certain laws of physics), had led me to wonder if I should have another go at the mini before proceeding to book 11. What little discussion followed my playthrough has helped me to reach the following conclusion:

Go to The Prisoners of Time. Go directly to The Prisoners of Time. Do not pass through Echoes of Lost Light. Do not collect Endurance penalties that will further diminish the already negligible likelihood of your surviving the toughest of the original run of Lone Wolf adventures.

The few memories I have relating to my buying The Prisoners of Time back in the 1980s suggest that I popped into town to get it during the lunch break on a school day. I remember that I was in the kitchen at my friend Duncan's home when I got to one of the puzzles in the book, and the detour required to visit him was just enough that I don't think I'd have been there unless I'd accompanied him straight there after school. I suppose I could have bought the book a day or two before and taken it in to school with me, but that was during the phase when I was mostly getting gamebooks out of habit, and I doubt that I'd have been sufficiently invested in Prisoners to take it to school after I got it home. I didn't play it by the rules until my epic Lone Wolf play-through of the early 1990s, and readers familiar with the book can guess how delighted I was to reach a certain fight for the first time. Hey ho, back to Flight from the Dark again!

So, at the end of the previous book I fell into Darklord Gnaag's trap and got dropped into a Shadow Gate. Now, I may be falling through a portal of total darkness that will take me to the twilight world of Daziarn, a dumping-ground for some of Magnamund's worst criminals, but that doesn't meant I can skip the usual between-book administrative duties. The Lorestone I retrieved just before getting cast into the unknown provides me with another Discipline, and if I choose Pathsmanship, I complete the Lore Circle of Solaris, thereby gaining a point of Combat Skill and 2 Endurance. More trivially, I gain proficiency in another weapon (for what it's worth, I choose Broadsword). Under the circumstances, it's not surprising that there's no sign of the usual choice of new equipment to collect at the start of a new book.

It's been a while since I last listed Lone Wolf's stats. Before my previous Lore Circle-derived increases, even. So, I enter the adventure with
Combat Skill: 21
Endurance: 30
Disciplines: Divination, Psi-screen, Weaponmastery (Sword, Bow, Dagger, Mace, Axe, Spear, Quarterstaff, Broadsword), Huntmastery, Psi-Surge, Nexus, Invisibility, Pathsmanship

Probably doomed. Especially as passage through the Shadow Gate takes its toll on my health. 

Luck is with me, as that turns out to be just 1 Endurance damage, but as it's not combat-derived, Healing won't do anything about it. Curing would, but if I'd chosen that Discipline, I'd have one fewer Lore Circle (unless I'd also gone for Animal Control rather than one of the other abovementioned, but the Lore Circle with those two in provides no Combat Skill bonus, and an additional 1 CS in the right place can be worth a lot more than the recovery of one point of Endurance).

I hadn't actually picked up on the fact that Healing only restores Endurance lost in combat, while Curing puts right all manners of ill, until a helpful reader of this blog drew my attention to the distinction. It is, thus, possible that in one of the books where I only narrowly survived a fight, I should actually have died, having erroneously healed damage that was sustained outside of battle beforehand. If so, tough. Pedant and stickler though I am, I'm not replaying books 1-10 again just to make sure I didn't offend against an arbitrary limitation. Besides, if I'd chosen to use Healing to prove myself a Kai way back at the start of book 2, I'd have demonstrated it by deliberately cutting my hand with a broken glass and then causing the wound to disappear, and that's not combat, so not even the author held closely to the letter of the rule.

Enough chit-chat. Time to get on with the adventure. I find myself on a desolate plateau beneath a sunless, moonless sky, illuminated by a glow on the horizon. This is the Daziarn Plane, believed by the magicians of Sommerlund to connect Magnamund with other planes of existence, like a less verdant version of C.S. Lewis' Wood Between the Worlds. According to those magicians, travel here is strictly a one-way journey, so I'm guessing that Grey Star never published his memoirs in Sommerlund. Nevertheless, I'm not accepting that return is impossible without more compelling evidence than, "Well, nobody we know ever came back after passing through a Shadow Gate."

Finding my way back home isn't my only concern. There's also the little matter of retrieving the two Lorestones that fell through the Shadow Gate just before I did. Still, I am sufficiently advanced along the Kai career track that Divination should be able to pinpoint their location. And it does, at least insofar as 'not here at all' constitutes a location. Let me guess, the 'connected to other planes of existence' part of the magicians' theories is correct, and the Lorestones bounced straight out of the Daziarn and into the world without shrimp or some other alternate reality.

The wind blows crimson sand into my eyes, and I become aware that there's a proper storm on the way. I need to find shelter, and quickly. Two options stand out to me: a mound of volcanic rocks in the middle distance, and a gully further away. Unless sandstorms are a very rare occurrence in this region, the fact that the mound is still standing suggests that it's not likely to topple over in this one, so I'll head there, as it's closer.

Between the increasingly strong wind and the soft sand underfoot, getting to the mound takes some effort, but I get there without sustaining further damage. It is only then that the symmetry of the mound catches my attention, and I realise that this has been constructed. Closer examination draws my attention to one particular stone, which is polished and bears an inscription, features you'd expect to have stood out without the need for detailed scrutiny. My freshly-acquired Pathsmanship comes packaged with enhanced language skills, which enable me to make vague sense of the inscription: it's an epitaph to somebeing named 'Ztuul', who lies buried in this cairn.

A combination of curiosity and the need for better shelter prompts me to extract the inscribed slab. Inside, I can make out a metallic statue on a mound of sand. Taking out my Firesphere, I illuminate the interior of the cairn, and closer examination of the statue reveals it to be Ztuul's remains, wrapped in a thin sheet of metal. The tinfoil mummification has done little to preserve the body: only the skeleton and a Silver Rod remain. I could take the Rod, but I can see no good reason for robbing this grave, and more than one (beyond the basic moral one) for leaving things as they are: I'm already at my carrying capacity for Special Items, no Disciplines are giving any indication that the Rod could be of use, and I'd have no way of concealing the thing if I did hang onto it, so any live members of Ztuul's species that I encounter would be likely to spot that I've been plundering a tomb, which could lead to violence. Unless they have some wacky beliefs involving reincarnation, in which case I might get mistaken for Ztuul reborn, and doubtless wind up getting into a completely different sort of trouble.

For a while I watch the storm raging outside. Then I need to eat, and it's a good thing I have a couple of Meals in my Backpack, as I don't think Huntmastery would be of much use for finding something edible while I'm stuck inside a tomb on a desert plateau in a world separate from the one in which I grew up. Once I've eaten, I doze off.

When I wake up, my ears immediately tell me that the storm is over, and that a large winged creature is flying close by. Emerging from the cairn, I discover that there are, in fact, six large winged creatures flying close by. They look like dragons, and are being ridden by large, hairless, gold-skinned humanoids. As Ztuul's skeleton suggested a height of around nine feet, I'm guessing that these big fellers are of the same species. And they're hunting something on the ground. Not me - at least, not yet. Climbing to the top of the cairn, I can see that the airborne sextet are hunting a brace of big red lizards. One of the lizards heads in my direction, and draws the hunters' attention to me.

They land close by, and a few approach. Their leader asks me something in an unfamiliar language, and the word 'Ztuul' in there strongly suggests that he wants to know what I'm doing on top of the tomb. Pathsmanship again aids with comprehension, indicating that he's asking why I have violated the sacred tomb of the revered hunter Ztuul. Awkward, but it could be worse - at least I haven't broken into the eternal prison of some powerful undead necromancer who's been awaiting the opportunity to break free and wreak a terrible revenge on the descendants of his captors. That kind of situation rarely ends well.

Another of the hunters asks how I managed to get here on my own and with no means of transportation, and I sense that, rather than using their native tongue, these beings are speaking to me in a second language which they assume me to know. This suggests that there are people more like me somewhere relatively close by, and that relations between the two species are at least civil. Though my having broken into the tomb could cause a diplomatic incident, so I'd better explain that I'm from another world, and my having sought shelter from the storm in the tomb should not be held against the locals to whom I bear a resemblance.

The hunters are sceptical, but intrigued by my appearance and voice. Maybe I'm not that much like whoever speaks the language in which I'm being addressed - though still closer in appearance to them than to the hunters. The leader tells me that his people are the Yoacor, and I can tell that what follows is intended as a boast, even if the references mean nothing to me. Masters of the Abaxial of Czenos, eh? That's... a thing. Probably. Could be handy to know if I get drawn into a game of Scrabble while seeking the Lorestones.

The Yoacor leader states his intention to take me to the Beholder and see what he makes of my story. This seems my best chance of getting away from the wilderness that surrounds me, so I agree to accompany him. The subsequent ride on dragonback takes quite some time, though with no cycle of day and night, it's hard to judge exactly how long. I doze off twice, but don't have to eat at any point - not that that tells me a great deal, given the inconsistent way in which the Lone Wolf books handle the need for food.

Eventually the desolation gives way to grassland interspersed with marshes, then hills and valleys, before we pass between a couple of mountains to a crater with a city in it. A fairly lengthy description follows, and I guess the 'fragrant, tree-like plants' lining the avenues must have a very strong scent if I can perceive it from this height. We land on a platform attached to the citadel, and the Yoacor leader takes me to a room and telepathically advises me to wait, indicating a room where I can rest while he sees the Beholder. I check out the other room in case there's food or healing to be found in it.

There is food. Whether or not it's something I can safely eat remains to be seen, and it's Curing rather than Huntmastery that would provide a hint about what to avoid. Well, sooner or later I'm likely to have to sample the local produce, so I might as well start now. And not only is it edible: it's restorative, making good the damage sustained by my journey through the Shadow Gate. There's enough left for a Meal, so I add it to my Backpack.

Returning to the first room, I spend a couple of hours staring out of the window, and then have another nap. The Yoacor leader wakes me for that meeting with the Beholder, and as I'm being escorted to it, I indulge in speculation about the doubtless powerful and wise being with whom I am to speak, convincing myself that he'll be able to help me find the Lorestones and get home. It consequently comes as a shock to find that he looks a lot like the Mekon. As a reader, not Lone Wolf, I am decidedly uncomfortable with the attitudes implicit within the text. Equating physical strength with wisdom and goodness is already dodgy, and it gets worse when the Beholder's crippled body is said to be 'loathsome' and 'repulsive'. If I remember rightly, there's worse to come yet.

Speaking a language similar to my native tongue, the Beholder urges me not to judge by appearances. Divination takes me to section 291, where I sense that he is powerful, but could be a force for good or evil. And his expressed desire to show me some of the wonders of his realm comes across a lot like a Bond villain showing off his lair to 007.

Carried by a Yoacor guard, the Beholder leads me to the gallery containing the reason for his name: a portal that enables him to view whatever is happening anywhere in the Daziarn. He saw me arrive (and survive the journey, which apparently was not the case with some of the people previously cast into a Shadow Gate), and claims that my bones would be bleaching in the desert if his hunting party hadn't found me. Well, I might have died but for their arrival, but I doubt that my flesh would have decayed quite so rapidly, and as the Yoacor were not expecting to find me, I am sceptical regarding the Beholder's implication that he sent them to rescue me.

Activating his Beholdamatic ('spying machine' is such a prejudicial descriptor), the Beholder shows me the world in which I am apparently to spend the rest of my life. Well, actually he shows me a panorama that includes my home universe as well as his own realm, the aforementioned Abaxial of Czenos, which he claims to shape as he wishes and populate with beings embodying his ideals. And then, perhaps wondering if I disapprove of his ways, he tries to probe my mind. Psi-screen reduces the damage thereby inflicted to just 1 Endurance, but it's still an intrusion of mental privacy combined with harm that Healing won't fix. He grins, and the text suddenly makes his face out to be grey rather than green. Both editions, incidentally: I am still comparing them, but there's been nothing particularly worthy of mention so far.

Expressing approval of my character, the Beholder notes that, had I not been such a decent chap, he would not have hesitated to get rid of me, "for I will not tolerate the weak and untrustworthy in my realm." No comment. However, as there are some in this world who would wish to destroy me, I must leave this place so that somewhere else can bear the collateral damage. However, I will receive the Beholder's assistance, just to show that my enforced departure is not the same as being got rid of. After all, we wouldn't want people thinking that the arrogant, hypocritical, mind-violating snooper with a god complex considers me a bad sort, now would we?

Knowing where and when I arrived enables him to make a rough calculation of where the Lorestones must have landed. That turns out to be the realm of Vhozada, which can sustain human life, and is the home of a being named Serocca, whom the Beyonder advises me to seek, as she should have more accurate knowledge of the Lorestones' whereabouts. As I'm not able to just jump between realms of the Daziarn, the Beyonder also offers me transportation, with an ominous section transition before the book will let me know why I find the specifics of the impending journey so horrific.

It's a Dimension Door. That's anticlimactic. Okay, so it probably defies multiple laws of physics, and maybe it's uncomfortably similar to the Shadow Gate, but given the build-up and the questionable character of the Beholder, I was half-expecting some kind of slave-drawn Ethetron with live kittens wired into the controls.

Stepping through the portal, I experience edited highlights of the penultimate reel of 2001: A Space Odyssey and lose another 3 Endurance before arriving on a hill overlooking grassy plains and forests. The landscape reminds me of home, prompting a wave of homesickness. And the recent scarcity of decisions - it must be a dozen sections since I last got to make a choice - reminds me of Jon Sutherland's gamebooks, prompting a wave of ennui.

My Huntmastery-derived telescopic vision indicates that there are some pyramid-like structures on the horizon, so I follow a nearby stream that meanders towards them (and no, a Discipline check does not constitute a proper decision). After a while I reach a clearing with a monolith in it (grey metal, not black slab), and have the option of taking a closer look. 'Investigate the interesting thing or ignore it' is barely a choice, but I'll take what I can get.

Though plant growth indicates the monolith to have been here for some time, it shows no signs of weathering. A transparent spike protrudes from the top, and up close I can hear a humming noise that seems to originate underground. Oh, and the ambush-detecting function of Pathsmanship lets me know that I've just triggered a silent alarm, and hostile creatures are approaching. I shan't wait for them: there's plenty of unavoidable combat later in the book, and I'm not so bored at having had few opportunities to determine my actions of late that I'd choose to get into an unnecessary fight just for the sake of a little action.

And it's too late: a group of hairy brutes with spears is already close enough to cut off my return to the stream. I could try using my bow, but that term 'group' is unhelpfully vague - if we're talking just a handful, I could potentially deal with them before they get within poking range, but a mob in excess of a dozen would still be a threat even if I could take down one with each arrow. Maybe I should see if Invisibility can help me hide well enough that they blunder straight past me on their way to the monolith, and I can sneak off while they're checking its immediate surroundings.

Yes, that works. I hurry along the stream until I reach some hills, and as I reach the top of one, I see something, though I have to turn to another section to find out what it is. As with my means of travelling to Vhozada, the revelation is rather less impressive than the section transition implied. A city of pyramid-like dwellings, its streets teeming with creatures like those that came to investigate the alarm at the monolith. My Sixth Sense informs me that the sky-grey citadel near the centre of the city is the home of Serocca, so I'm going to have to go in.

There are a couple of those creatures guarding the main gate, but I see no reason to seek an alternate entrance. It'd be different if I'd fought with the ones who came to investigate the alarm I triggered, but I have no blood on my hands in this realm, and a direct approach seems like the simplest way of getting to where I need to go.

As I approach, the guards close the gate and relocate to the battlements before challenging me in a twittering tongue. They want to know who I am, and why I've come to their city, and I explain that the Beholder sent me and I need to speak with Serocca. Alarmingly, here Animal Mastery would be just as effective as the advanced language skills provided by Pathsmanship as regards enabling me to understand what is being said. The Mongoose edit makes things worse, changing the guards' response into the sort of pidgin that frequently gets used to portray people with non-pink skin as being primitive and intellectually inferior. To add to the uncomfortably racist-ish tropes, the crowds through which I am escorted to the citadel combine fascination at my different-ness with a complete disregard for personal space, and their pawing and prodding causes further Endurance damage.

Serocca turns out to be a feline anthropomorph. She greets me by name, and invites me to join her and discuss what brings me here. Psi-screen lets me know that a psychic barrier holds her prisoner here: I can pass through it without trouble, but if she were to try and leave, the resultant explosion would destroy the whole city.

I ask how she knows who I am, and, using a remote viewing device of her own, she explains that I am the chosen one of Destiny, and my actions will determine whether good or evil prevails in both my own world and the Daziarn. This is the prelude to another info-dump: the Chaos-master is causing trouble again, only now he's raising up armies and laying waste to the more civilised regions of the Daziarn, which is a bit of a step up from the 'forcing two people who really don't get on with each other to travel together' shenanigans that used to amuse him.

The book then gets me to actually regret being offered a choice. As Serocca explains about the carnage being wrought by the forces of Chaos, it becomes clear that she is particularly distressed about the destruction of one specific region, and I have the option of intruding on her grief with questions that are none of my business. As I recall, the sordid tale she would recount if I were to stick my nose in reveals the Beholder to be a thoroughly abhorrent individual who doesn't get that no means no, but makes out that he's a tragic figure because his refusal to uphold his end of the vile bargain into which he entered led to his being transformed from an arrogant jock into a sickly nerd.

Getting back to the reason for my visit, Serocca shows me the rough vicinity of where the Lorestones arrived. It's a forest, not far from the ancient burial grounds of Tolakos, and also close to where the Chaos-master's armies are currently encroaching. I'm all set to go there and try to recover the Lorestones, but Serocca urges patience while she shows me the way to the Shadow Gate that will take me back to Magnamund. Yes, there is one, but a key is required to use it. Luckily for me, that's not a literal key - what is required is power, and the Lorestones will provide that.

There's quite some distance between where the Lorestones are and the location of the Shadow Gate, and Serocca hands me a Map to aid with navigation between the two places. The Mongoose edition states that if I'm already at capacity on Special Items, I must discard something to make room for the Map, so I ditch the Sommerswerd. No, just kidding - actually I dispose of the Gorodon horn that I picked up and never found a use for last book. I was tempted, though, as possessing the Sommerswerd makes the hardest fight in this book significantly more difficult. However, getting rid of it would add complications in some later books, and I'm not quite ready to give up on this series in disgust.

Serocca urges me to rest while she makes preparations for my journey, and I finally get to regain the 6 points of Endurance that I unavoidably lost and couldn't replenish with Healing since I last ate. Waking me once all is ready, she explains that she's arranged for a company of guards to escort me to where I need to go, and gives me an Obsidian Seal that will identify me to the locals as an ally. This is, of course, another mandatory Special Item that forces me to dispose of something else to make room for it. Don't suppose I can chuck the Map, can I? Well, I think Nexus has rendered my Platinum Amulet surplus to requirements, so I'll bin that. You know, inventory management is the only remotely meaningful choice I've had since I reached the city gates.

The book has me turn from section 210 to section 211. That really does highlight just how pointless the bulk of the jumping from section to section in this book has been. And as it comes just after a complete restoration of Endurance, it's not even as if this transition enables use of Curing or Healing. Okay, time for a spot of research. My gamebook manager makes it easy to track these things, so I'm taking a look at how the book has been structured thus far. It turns out that I've been through exactly 50 sections. 30 of them end with a single direction to turn to another section. Another 10 of them end in Discipline checks. That leaves just 10 actual choices (plus a couple of 'decide what potentially useful item you're going to chuck out' moments). I recognise that some of those single-direction transitions are to make paths through the book converge, cutting down on duplication of text, but around half of them are just there to break up lengthy passages of not-getting-to-take-action and make it less obvious how little agency the reader has. It also helps with ensuring that the book has the requisite 350 sections, of course, but there are better ways of reaching the target.

Serocca introduces me to T'uk T'ron, the leader of the company that will escort me to my destination. He speaks, and the Mongoose edit renders his greeting in stereotypical-ignorant-savage-ese. He then leads me outdoors, and I board one of three chariots. After spending ages going into way too much detail about things, the book now goes too far the other way, giving the onipa which draw the chariots the vague description of 'strange, horse-like creatures'. Strange how? Are they green? Six-legged? Horned? Levitating purple arthropods that are only 'horse-like' in that they obviously serve the same function here that horses do in Magnamund?

We travel for a few hours, and then catch sight of a village. T'uk T'ron asks if I want to stop for a meal. That means there's probably another 'you must eat or lose Endurance' coming up, and as I'd rather not waste the Endurance-restoring food I got at the Beholder's, I think I'll stop and sample the local delicacies. The villagers are pleased to see us, and an elderly fortune-teller shows an interest in me. On this occasion the 'primitive' language is already present in the original, and as it's T'uk T'ron who's speaking, there is a jarring contrast with his earlier eloquence (though I'd have preferred it if Joe Dever had corrected the mismatch by improving the syntax here rather than making the earlier exchanges equally 'funny foreigner').

Getting my fortune told hasn't been that helpful in the past, but I'll give it a go anyway. The outcome of this reading is randomised, and T'uk T'ron translates the fortune-tellers words for me. His language is slightly simplistic in the original text, and dumbed-down for the Mongoose edit. Either way, the fortune indicates that I am to dream of when I was younger. This dream will make things clearer to me, and strengthen me against my enemies. Oh, goody, more exposition on the way!

We set off again, and approach a bridge across a river. Sensing that something is amiss, I use the telescopic vision provided by Huntmastery, and see that a hole has been made in the bridge and then crudely concealed. I warn T'uk T'ron, who is able to call a halt in the nick of time. Pathsmanship's ambush-detecting capability then kicks in, alerting me to the presence of enemies in the trees. Again I let T'uk T'ron know of the danger, and he warns the guards to take cover behind the chariots while he and his driver take a closer look at the bridge. I choose to accompany them, and see that the damage can be repaired: it was intended to hold us up, not put the bridge completely out of action.

Apparently forgetting what I told him, T'uk T'ron summons the rest of the guards to assist with the repairs, at which point the lurking agents of Chaos emerge from the trees, meaning to put the chariots out of action. T'uk T'ron and his troops hurry back to defend the chariots from the attacking Agtah, shambling fusions of human and animal, but I stay to try and fix the bridge and make it possible for us to resume our journey and flee from our assailants.

Most of the damage is trivial, but there is one vital supporting beam that's out o' skew on t' treadle. The telekinetic side of Nexus enables me to manoeuvre it back into place, but as I'm doing so, a sinister laugh warns of trouble, and the combination of Divination and Huntmastery enables me to pinpoint the location of the creature preparing to attack me. Hurriedly drawing my bow, I put an arrow through the lurking beast's frontal lobe, and then turn my attention to the nearby battle. It's not going well for my companions, and T'uk T'ron heads for me and tries to tell me something. I move closer, and hear him yell that they've been defeated and I should save myself. I do as directed, while he and his surviving guards do what they can to buy me more time.

For some hours I continue on my way, halting when I catch sight of three humanoids watering their steeds at a pool of water. Divination or Pathsmanship tells me that they're scouts from the army with which Serocca advised me to hook up, sent to meet me and escort me to their leader, Lorkon Ironheart. Sneaking up on them looks like a great way to experience a friendly fire incident, so I step into the open - and one jumpy idiot promptly looses a crossbow bolt at me. Randomness determines whether or not it hits, though Huntmastery and my level of experience improve the odds. As it turns out, I get the best possible outcome even before modifiers, but it's good to know that most veteran players are at no risk of a fatal outcome here.

Dodging the bolt (which is a more narrow miss in the Mongoose text), I disappear into the undergrowth and discreetly move closer to the scouts. Divination will allow me to contact them telepathically, and even if they react with hostility again, they won't be able to pinpoint my location as well as they would if I were to call out, stand up, or raise a banner that reads, "Hold your fire - I'm the person you were sent to collect, and prophesied saviour of the region, you trigger-happy fools!" Not that the latter is suggested as an option.

It turns out that I can only initiate telepathic contact with people who possess some psychic ability, and two of the scouts have none. Nor, judging by their actions, do they have much in the way of intelligence, either, and the third isn't much smarter, neglecting to point out that I'm the man they've been sent to meet until his companions are on the verge of shooting me down after I obey his spoken instructions and surrender. I'm willing to bet that the main reason the Chaos-master's troops are gaining so much ground in this region is because Ironheart's troops are constantly killing each other over such provocative actions as standing nearby, wearing their uniforms and breathing.

As the bow-wielding cretins are still suspicious, I urge them to check my pocket for proof of who I am. They find the Obsidian Seal and promptly fill me with arrows on suspicion of having murdered and robbed Lone Wolf finally concede that maybe they shouldn't kill me, at least until after I've met their leader and saved their world. Taking the Seal, a scout indicates that I should ride pillion behind him. It's not made clear whether or not their steeds are also onipa, but I do get a hint as to what makes these horse-equivalents strange: their long hair.

Following another journey, during which I imagine the scouts to be constantly keeping their bows trained on me, each other, and themselves, we reach an encampment in a forest. Somehow we manage to get beyond the perimeter wall without being puréed, flattened and pulverised as a precautionary measure, and (doubtless following a brief pause in which our approach momentarily distracts the guards from throttling each other) enter Ironheart's tent.

Inside the tent, a couple of nobles are planning battle strategies, perhaps debating the controversial suggestion that their troops try attacking the enemy rather than their own commanders, just for a change. A scout tells one of the officers about how they met me, also mentioning the massacre of my previous escort - not actually taking credit for it, but most likely being ambiguous enough to give the impression that they might have been responsible, lest anybody accuse them of negligence for having only almost killed me a couple of times.

Ironheart, who takes being blue-eyed to extremes (no whites, no pupils, just featureless cerulean orbs), attempts to read my mind, but he's no Beholder, and does no Endurance damage before Psi-screen blocks him out. He makes a snarky comment about having to put the War on Chaos on hold for the sake of my 'treasure hunt', and I diplomatically raise a toast to his victory, privately reflecting that, the way his troops conduct themselves, stopping them from fighting is easily the best way to hinder the advance of the Chaos-master's armies. The Mongoose edit gratuitously changes the wine we drink from 'bitter' to 'rare'.

According to the most up-to-date battle maps, the Chaos-master's forces are only a few hours from the burial grounds where the Lorestones arrived. Having previously blamed me for holding up his war effort, Ironheart now states that holding Tolakos is part of his strategy anyway, and the only reason he and his troops aren't already marching there is that reinforcements are on their way here, and he needs to wait for the survivors. He can spare one guide to take me there, but if the armies of Chaos arrive before Ironheart's forces, we'll have to butcher each other defend the place on our own.

Ironheart also suggests that we check out the equipment tent before we go. Having relinquished the Obsidian Seal leaves me free to collect one more Special Item, and I have a couple of spaces in my Backpack, so I'll take a look on the off-chance that there's something more useful than the inevitable suicide pills, sideways-firing crossbows and armour with spikes on the inside. The options are almost all weapons, so I replace the arrow I fired at the thing that almost attacked me on the bridge.

I depart, accompanied by my guide Odel, and we enter the forest. Owing to the thick tree canopy overhead, the only growth at ground level is a lichen that produces orange 'berries'. Curing would tell me if they're safe to eat (since Huntmastery, the Discipline that enables me to find food in almost any environment, is obviously not going to be any help in identifying what's edible), but as I don't have it, I can only help myself to a handful or ignore the hunger pangs they have stirred up. Asking Odel is not an option, presumably because there's no way of getting him to understand that I seek sustenance rather than a means of terminating my existence.

Despite having just been told that I'm hungry, I get no 'you must now eat a meal or lose 3 Endurance'. We reach a fallen tree, which Odel recognises as being just a league from our destination, and then Pathsmanship's Admiral Ackbar factor kicks in, drawing my attention to the blowpipe-toting creature lurking in the tree canopy. Let's see if my bow has better range than the blowpipe. Yes, I fell the Agtah sniper without even having to generate a random number. Odel hurries across to check the body, and I keep watch in case the sniper wasn't alone, angling my bow upwards to reduce the risk of Odel's assuming that I plan to make him my next target.

Odel finds nothing of interest on the corpse, and urges me to hurry on. I catch sight of another creature scurrying away, but all that looking for additional enemies in the vicinity left me completely unprepared for taking action against further foes nearby, so it gets away.

At last we reach the burial grounds, which evoke a frisson of fear. Lone Wolf is afraid because they're a bit spooky, and I'm nervous because Odel identifies all the different tombs, and I remember that at some point Joe Dever developed the conviction that trivia quizzes were an important element of interactive fiction.

Near the centre of the burial grounds is the Grand Sepulchre, last resting place of Ironheart's ancestors. Naturally that's where I sense the Lorestones to have landed. When I tell Odel that I need to go in there, he explains that clan law forbids him from accompanying me. He will wait outside for me, though, so I'd better get ready to add another entry to my list of companions who didn't survive to the end of the adventure.

Hurrying over to the entrance, I find a lock divided into four squares. There are patterns of shapes on three of them, and the blank one is made of a soft substance into which it would be easy to inscribe something. A Discipline warns me that drawing the wrong pattern will trigger a trap. The book suggests four possible solutions, one of which matches what I thought the answer should be, and it is indeed the right one. Possibly also a Douglas Adams in-joke. And I'm delighted to see that Mongoose have stopped adding those patronising 'this is the section for having correctly answered the puzzle at section XX' paragraphs.

I enter the Grand Sepulchre and proceed to a chamber containing a statue and an assortment of tombs, only half of them currently in use. I sense that the Lorestones aren't in here (though, what with this chamber having been sealed for decades, common sense should have sufficed to tell me that). and turn my attention to a flight of stairs leading to a portal in the ceiling.

The Sommerswerd vibrates and lights up, so I draw it, and its flames illuminate the portal, indicating that the Lorestones are beyond that. Also, incidentally, diverting me from discovering a magical broadsword that would make an impending battle a good deal less harsh. There are enough sentient swords in fantasy fiction (and gamebooks) to make me wonder if the Sommerswerd might be a little bit possessive of its wielder. But this is metaknowledge. I hurry up the stairs to the portal and open it.

I'm about to clamber out when a shadow falls and I feel a cold wind, causing me to flinch away. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of Odel being added to the list I mentioned four paragraphs ago, and hurry onto the roof to confront 'an unexpected adversary'. This is not somebody known to me, so it's not unexpected in the sense of being an illogical twist that suddenly pits me against the likes of Ironheart, Serocca, the Beholder, T'uk T'ron (having faked his death), Paido or Maouk.

In fact, it's an armoured warrior with a helmet designed to look like a dragon's head, who travelled here on a huge black bird, and looks set to steal the Lorestones, which lie undefended on the mist-wreathed roof of the Sepulchre. The illustration of this scene has its flaws in both editions of the book: the slightly cartoony look of the original picture makes the glow of the Lorestones look like impact lines, as if the warrior has just thrown the Lorestones down, while the newer version suggests that the artist doesn't know what shape a sphere is.

Telling him to leave the Lorestones alone is unlikely to achieve anything worthwhile, so I must attack. The armour makes using the bow more challenging than the last couple of times, but the helmet has eyeholes, so I'll give it a shot. The warrior turns out to be almost as good at dodging missiles as I am. Almost. While the arrow misses his eye, it dents his nose guard, doing superficial damage to the skin below. That's not enough to keep him from grabbing the Lorestones and dropping them into a pouch on his belt, though, so I'll have to use the Sommerswerd on him.

The book makes this out to be a difficult fight, but in reality it takes me just two rounds to wound my foe so badly that he flees, grabbing the rope ladder attached to the bird's saddle and commanding his winged mount to take off. I try to cut loose the pouch containing the Lorestones, and though the warrior tries to fend off my blow, I am partially successful: the pouch is split, and one of the Lorestones falls to the ground near the Sepulchre's entrance. Also, he loses his sword, and possibly the use of the hand that held it. However, he manages to retain the second Lorestone, and the bird carries him out of bow range before I can ready another arrow.

A discordant thrumming noise heralds the arrival of some Agtah. I hurry downstairs and outside, hoping to find the Lorestone before any of the Chaos-master's minions can get their paws on it, and Healing has just taken care of the minor wound the warrior inflicted on me when a couple of Agtah pounce. My Huntmastery keeps me from incurring a Combat Skill penalty due to the surprise attack, but some abysmal random numbers cause me to take 8 Endurance damage in the course of shredding the brutes. Damage that is healed moments later as I find and retrieve the dropped Lorestone, but even though the text states that 'the wisdom contained within the Lorestone is infused into [my] being', I don't get to select a new Discipline.

Heading for the Sepulchre entrance, I trip on the warrior's sword, which inflicts a nasty cut on my boot, though my foot is unscathed. At this point the limitations on carrying weapons become tiresome: I don't think I can take this with me to keep it out of the hands of other enemies unless I ditch my bow or magic spear. The bow is useful, and abandoning the spear would be just as inadvisable as leaving the sword lying around. Memo to myself: in the increasingly unlikely event of my ever trying to play through this series from earlier on again, put the spear into storage after book 9.

I'm about to hurl the sword away when I spot that it's engraved with an image I recognise from what Serocca showed me earlier. The same picture is engraved on the gate of Haagadar, the abandoned city that houses the Shadow Gate that can take me home. Not so abandoned, if the warrior came from there, and the obvious place to check out when I can turn my attention to retrieving the last Lorestone.

The arrival of more of the Chaos-master's troops brings me back to the current situation, leaving unresolved the question of what I did with the blade. I'm going to assume that it tumbled through a quantum indeterminacy into the box housing Schroedinger's cat. Allowing the advancing monstrosities to surround me would be a bad idea, so I resume my rush to the relative sanctuary of the Sepulchre, but three fat blobs with armour and tentacles get in my way.

Sensing that Ironheart's army is en route, I figure that I need to shelter somewhere until they arrive and distract the chaos-creatures. Only the Sepulchre and Baylon's Tomb are defensible structures, and as I remember having had to solve two different doorlock puzzles when I played this book before, I guess I'm better off heading for Baylon's Tomb rather than trying to fight through the tentacled trio.

Two Agtah armed with chunks of masonry attempt to intercept me, but I dismember them so easily, there's no need to disturb the Combat Results Table. As I thought, there's a puzzle lock on this tomb as well, and this one is also booby-trapped. This one's a bit trickier: I can rule out two of the four suggested solutions straight off, but neither of the remaining options is obviously right - they're just not as blatantly wrong as the ones I've dismissed. Applying 'standard sneakiness of multiple-choice question author'-based logic makes one of those two seem more plausible, so I give it a go... and it's right. Phew!

Now I've beaten it, let's check online to see what reasoning others have come up with for the solution... Frankly, none of the explanations I can find make much more sense than my own. The consensus seems to be that, while that has to be the right one, it's a bit vague why it is. And if I were the type to post animated .gifs, I'd have to use a flabbergasted Nathan Fillion in response to the person who said that the triangle in one of the patterns is not a triangle, it's a triangular portion of a partially unseen square.

Anyway, I'm inside the tomb, and have closed the door behind me. There's a sarcophagus, and a flight of stairs leading to the roof. Should I search the place, or head straight up top? It seems that the Lorestone doesn't count as any sort of Item, inventory-wise, so I still have space for stuff. As long as Divination doesn't take a break from detecting traps (there's precedent), I can't see what harm having a look around could do, and it'll help pass the time until Ironheart and his troops arrive. And the chamber contains nothing of any practical use, so I just take the stairs to see what's going on outside.

Ironheart and his troops have arrived, and the 'attack the enemy, not your allies' contingent has prevailed. They rout the attacking Agtah, but a roaring sound indicates that their victory may be short-lived. The sound of something huge approaching terrifies the troops, and then a couple of trees are torn aside to reveal the Chaos-master, a 30-foot-tall being whose form is in constant flux. Ironheart, perhaps missing the feeling of being constantly under threat of death, challenges the Chaos-master to single combat. After mocking him, the Chaos-master accepts the challenge, uprooting a tree to use as a club. For a while Ironheart is able to evade the blows, but eventually he stumbles. Fortuitously, this happens while he's close to Baylon's Tomb, and stomping across in readiness for delivering the coup de grace brings the Chaos-master within range of my sword. I get in a palpable hit, but it's not as effective as it could have been, because the Chaos-master senses its 'goodly' power and dodges well enough to turn what could have been a killing blow into just a wound. And now I have to finish the fight.

The Chaos-master's stats have been toned down in the Mongoose edit. Still no pushover, but that 3-point reduction in Combat Skill could make a big difference. I swallow the Combat Skill-enhancing Alether berries I've been saving for just this battle, and I'm going to use Psi-surge, as Mindblast won't affect the Chaos-master. The rules governing Healing (rather than Curing) don't mention the Endurance cost of using Psi-surge (largely because Psi-surge wasn't around back when Healing was being mentioned in the rules), but I think it can be classified as 'points lost in combat', so if I survive this battle and there are more than enough combat-free sections before the next fight to heal whatever damage is unambiguously inflicted by the Chaos-master, I should be able to go on recovering Endurance.

Well, this is interesting. Using the stats from the original text, I die. Using the Mongoose stats, I survive with 2 Endurance remaining. So do I go with the edit and play on, or treat that as a defeat? Either way, I'm taking a break here and posting what I've achieved so far. Depending on feedback received, my next post will either see a nearly-dead Lone Wolf continuing this adventure or move on to cover my playing the next Fighting Fantazine mini-adventure.

Oh, and now I've been reminded of the full healing that's provided at Serocca's, one of the strongest arguments against including the book 10 mini-adventure in the sequence of events has been undermined, so if anyone wants to argue the case for my having another go at Echoes of Lost Light before replaying this book, now is the time to say something.