Old Kingdom 04: Across the Wall (24 page)

76
Roll one die for a highly realistic resolution of this situation.

1–3 He doesn’t start laughing. Your eyes
clouded with forced tears, and mind numbed by
the effort of concentrated blubbering, you hardly
notice his rapier has cut you from your guggle to
your zatch (don’t ask). You blubber for real …
then it is all over. Your last thoughts are of the
stupid guidebook that said this dopey maneuver
never failed. The End.

4–6 He guffaws. He nearly chokes with
laughter. His eyes pop out of his head. Before you
can even draw your pistol, he’s lying on the ground,
kicking his legs and giggling inanely. You stop blubbering
and continue on your way. Go to 52

77
If you don’t have a fish spear, your head is bashed in by the ex-priest. Tempus has fugited. The End. That’s it.

If you do have a fish spear, roll one die.

1–3 Your spear is longer than the ex-priest’s
thurible. He is pronged several times before
retreating.

4–5 You entangle the thurible’s chain in your
prongs and whip it away. Bereft of his weapon, the
defrocked clergyman retires to contemplate the
infinite.

6 You trip; the thuribler hits you with his
thurible. It doesn’t hurt that much, but the incense
makes you feel sick. He steals your fish spear.

Unless you are deceased, you return to the Arc
de Trihump. Go to 99

78
You try to climb back up the chute, but it is too steep. From behind you comes the sound of a body being tipped into the pot. You turn, and the hag is advancing upon you brandishing a cleaver. Your stomach churns as you realize that she is wearing the Black Apron of a Master of Cleaver-Fu.

Do you have two pairs of silk stockings? Go
to 32

Or a bottle of Opossum perfume? Go to 10

Or will you draw your rapier and try and fight
your way past? Go to 62

79
Once again, you stand outside the mill. A hunchback looks at you curiously, then wanders off, muttering, ‘She gave me water. I ordered wine …’

You may go north by northwest. Go to 59

Or south by southwest. Go to 54

80
You wrench open the door, and there before you is a great gate of bronze, studded with rubies and emeralds. In front of the gate stands a mighty Djinn, clutching a scimitar of mirrored steel in a fist of Herculean proportions … oops, that’s ‘Down to the Sleazy Sandpits of Samarkand,’ Adventure 31 in this series. Actually …

You wrench open the door, revealing an antechamber. There is another door, marked ‘Secret—The Real Auction Goods.’ You step into the room, and the door swings shut behind you with an audible click that certainly means it is now automatically locked. A man steps out of the shadows, brandishing a rapier. You have only a moment to take in his black hat, black mask, black shirt, black trousers, black boots, black cape, ‘Z’ signet ring, and stupid little mustache before he cries ‘En garde!’

Do you swear at him in Spanish and lug out
your own rapier? Go to 24

Whip out your glove puppet of Cyrano de
Bergerac, entrance him with an impromptu display
of puppet swordsmanship, then stick the puppet’s
sword up his nose? Go to 19

Say, ‘Violence is the last resort of the incompetent,
you childish fellow!’ and attempt to walk
past? Go to 86

81
This was originally a brilliant paragraph detailing a combat with an enraged Purple-Assed Baboon. However, when Adventure 46, ‘Down to the Chlorophyllic Jungle,’ ran short, it had to go over to it. Also, if you are reading this, you must be cheating.

82
Eighty-two was also a brilliant paragraph, describing the awesome Slime Serpent that was going to emerge from the Sleine at a strategic moment. Once again, that paragraph had to go over to ‘Down to the Chlorophyllic Jungle.’ Honestly, I don’t know how Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone do it. They must be good with numbers or something …

83
PLACE OF PLAICE

This is the upmarket part of the Street of Fishmongers—a pleasant, open area, strewn with rancid squid carcasses and buckets of prawns left out in the sun. Smiling merchants offer you slightly fresher wares.

You walk through haughtily, oblivious to this crass business—when, without warning, a fat merchant emerges from behind a crate and knocks you down with his enormous silk-wound belly!

Do you leap up and stick the fellow with a
convenient garfish? Go to 18

Leap up and demand twenty bezants for the
damage to your clothes? Go to 69

Lie there and hope he doesn’t tread on you?
Go to 98

84
You grab hold of one of the windmill’s sails and are soon lifted high above the city. It is a somewhat tiring mode of sightseeing, but most educational. You have never seen the city’s dumps, ruins, broken sewers, and slums laid out in all their splendor before. As the sail reaches the top of its arc, a hunchback emerges from the mill below, says, ‘She gave me water,’ and stops the sails. You are left dangling seventy feet above the ground, and your arms are getting tired.

Do you have twenty feet of rope? Go to 8

Or a plaster saint? Go to 51

If you have neither, Go to 37

85
As you open the door, a fully grown Bengal tiger leaps down from above and advances, growling.

Do you run back through the door? Go to 9
Shoot it with your pistol (if you have one)?
Go to 43

Say ‘Nice pussums’ and head for the door
opposite, marked
EXIT
? Go to 40

86
Z looks surprised, then a grin slowly spreads across his face. ‘You are right!’ he exclaims. ‘But I cannot let you pass unless you overmaster me in a contest of some kind. Mmmm … how about a riddle game?’

Reluctantly, you accept. It’s been a long time since you read
The Hobbit,
and you never did know why that stupid chicken crossed the road.

He asks:

‘Take a span of mortal life, less a score times
two Add a number equal to a witch’s coven
thrice Less the year, but not the century, of the
most famous gold rush in America.’

You mutter something about rhyming, but desist when he absentmindedly cuts the wings from a passing fly with his rapier. Go to the Answer.

87
You level your pistol at the door and fire point-blank. There is a deafening
crash!
Splinters fly everywhere, smoke billows out, and you curse, cough, and shriek in pain. You pick a few of the splinters out, then peek through the bullet hole in the door. There is no sign of the eunuch or the doctor, so you reload, kick the door in, and level your pistol at every corner of the room, screaming, ‘Hands up!’ But these histrionics are wasted, as a quick glance out the window reveals the eunuch and the doctor being carried away by the swift currents of the Sleine, hotly pursued by the Slime Serpent of paragraph 82. You check out the room, but there are no other exits, or any sign of Lady Oiseaux. You go down the corridor to the door marked ‘Not the Auction Goods.’ Go to 80

88
THE WINDMILL

In the middle of the city there is a field. In the middle of the field there is a windmill. There is no reason there should be a windmill here, except that it comes in handy for hooking people up during duels.

You may go north by northwest. Go to 59

Or grab onto one of the sails of the windmill.
Go to 84

89
It’s hard to get a grip on a smooth chin that curves in instead of out. You are feebly struggling for a handhold when the Montgolfier lands and a pinstripe-suited man alights. He introduces himself as an agent for ‘Choose Your Own Adventures,’ and offers you a part as the hero in a ‘serious’ solo adventure.

Do you accept? Go to 66

Do you politely refuse? Go to 42

90
The eunuch carries you into a Turkish bath room, which is currently unoccupied. He dumps you on a bench, and you hear him disappear off into the steam, lisping, ‘I’ll jutht fetth the doctor to finith off.’

You feel that waiting for the doctor would be imprudent, and you are feeling much better, so you creep back out the door. Go to 15

91
BITTERN SQUARE

You know the old saying ‘Once Bittern, twice as painful the next time’? That saying comes from this square, where fearsomely accurate seabirds always beak you in the same place.

You try and creep past, but … oh no … you’ve trod on a stick near a Bittern’s nest. You hear the
snap!
of the twig, and then the fearsome
wokka
wokka wokka
of a fully beaked Bittern taking off.

Do you stand there, waving your rapier over
your head? Go to 46

Or run like blazes for the narrow alley on the
other side of the square? Go to 56

92
Two women are playing cards around a small table. Two tigers are sleeping nearby. As you enter, the tigers leap up, growling.

Do you run back through the door? Go to 9

Or pull up a chair and say, ‘Deal me in. What’s
the game? Stud, draw, three-up two-down, écarte,
vingt-et-un, snap, canasta, sudden death, gin
rummy, five hundred, strip jack naked?’ Go to 29

93
Smack! Crash! Thud! Wallop! Bull-like, you smash through one … two … three … four interior walls, leaving a trail of shrieking customers and their chosen consorts (not to mention splinters, broken furniture, embarrassment, etc.). This is fun! Smash! Crash! Splash! You fall into the Sleine and, drained by your berserk fury, dog-paddle ashore. You rest for a moment in the comfortable slime, moving on when it starts to grow on you. You head back to the main entrance of the Quay of Scented Rats. Go to 7

94
You’ve forgotten the door is locked. You back against it, knees knocking in fear, and mumble something about ‘Wrong room … sorry … I was looking for … ummm … eeerr …’ He says, ‘Oh, that’s all right then. Thought you were after the auction goods. I’ll just get the key and let you out.’

He sheathes his rapier and turns to a cabinet. You leap forward, swinging the rapier in your mouth, knock him out with the pommel, and make your smile three quarters of an inch wider. Before he has a chance to recover, you sprint across the room and open the other door. Go to 100 95 That’s

95
That’s the last of the hulking giant. You compose yourself (bandaging appendages where necessary), and continue on your way. Soon Fishgut Alley branches into a
Y
fork.

Do you go south (that must be south … )?
Go to 88

Or south, sort of west a bit? Go to 52

96
The dragon rears back, its rainbow-scaled head writhing in agony as your sword sinks ever deeper into its primary brain. But the secondary brain still functions, and you see the great tail swinging around, the venomous sting preparing to punch through you where you stand, precariously balanced between the creature’s great yellow centred eyes.

Do you press the stud that will explode the
sword blade into a hundred heat-seeking flechettes?
Go to 426

Or dive off the creature’s back, trusting that
your G-harness battery is not exhausted? Go
to 507

97
The tank glimmers with an unearthly light—surely this is the wellspring of the changelings, the nutrient tank where the Tech-nomancer has been growing the nervous systems of his hideous creatures. You approach closer, scanning for search webs and tracksprings. Nothing shows in the visual spectrum, but the NecroVision ™ sight shows stirrings beneath the floor. Forewarned, you spring back and draw your sword, a .45 caliber emulsion sprayer springing into your left fist, just as a Mordicant emerges through the flagstones, its gravemold arms writhing!

Do you chop at its head? Go to 650

Or fire a pulse of violet emulsion at its brain
stem? Go to 202

Paragraphs 96 and 97 are a blatant advertisement for ‘Dark Realm of the Technomancer,’ which is at present little more than those two paragraphs. But that’s what advertising is all about. Order now!

98
Aaarghh! The pain is intense as the fat merchant rests his bulk upon you, in the mistaken belief that you are a convenient seat. Your screams of agony disconcert him—he leaps to his feet and hurries off.

You slowly clamber to your knees and crawl toward the Arc de Trihump (or the other way). Subtract one from all future combat rolls due to a severely bruised back. Go to 99 or 91

99
THE ARC DE TRIHUMP

A huge monument raised to celebrate the prowess of a long-dead emperor in his personal dealings with camels, the Arc de Trihump is near the Western Wall of the city.

If you continue west (or thereabouts): Go to 6

Turn to the broad avenue that heads south:
Go to 21

100
You fling open the velvet-padded door and strike a commanding pose in the doorway. Your love, the Lady Oiseaux, is sitting by the mirror, putting on her earrings. She ignores you for a moment, then says: ‘If you’re coming in, come in. Ow! And help me with this earring. What took you so long anyway? You used to rescue me in no time at all—I guess you’re getting tired of me. No, don’t say you’re not. I know you are, otherwise you would have been here hours ago (sob) …’

You stride across the room and stop her protests with a passionate kiss, sweep her into your arms, and leap out the window—onto the deck of a conveniently passing luxury wide-bodied gondola. The string quartet looks surprised, then breaks into the theme from Love Story. The waiter pops the champagne as you and your lady recline into the lavender-scented pillows, and the gondola gondols away into the setting sun, long life, and happiness ever after.
*