Fabled Lands

Our Valentine's present to you

2012-02-10T15:11:00.000-08:00

These Kindle giveaway offers (for Frankenstein's Legions and Abraxas) have been proving popular, and I'm still too snowed under with work on my Frankenstein interactive novel to be blogging regularly, so here's a new free promo. The Kindle book in question this time is The Lost Prince, a fantasy adventure novel for 8-12 year-olds by Jamie Thomson (author of the best-selling Dark Lord: The Teenage Years - as if you needed to be told that).

The Lost Prince is set in the world of Harkuna and closely parallels our Fabled Lands books. You can find it on Amazon UK here and US here, and it's free from Saturday Feb 11 to Wednesday Feb 15 inclusive, starting midnight LA time. Here's an extract:

"Gasping back tears of horror and anger, Varren shimmied his way down the well. In the circle of light above his head three ugly, scarred, war-bitten faces appeared, staring down at him. One of them was readying his crossbow. Varren released his grip and fell straight down into the water. A crossbow quarrel whooshed into the water next to him. He hauled himself out, and into a side tunnel just above the water level. He’d used this way in and out of the castle for years. He hurried off down the tunnel, the sounds of battle fading away behind him."

Other news in brief: I've been reading the first part of Frankenstein on iPad, and a very beautiful piece of work it is by developer/design outfit Inkle Studios, who we're planning to do more with in the very near future. I'm also told by Spirit Entertainment that their version of The War-Torn Kingdom will be out on Android, Kindle and Kindle Fire in a little over a month's time, and there should be more platforms following after that. And Jamie is currently going through the proofs for the US edition of Dark Lord, coming out from Bloomsbury later in the year. They changed cricket to baseball, would you believe? (Dirk's favourite ballgames are head hurling and scythe hockey, so he probably won't mind.)

The opal altar and the golden spire

2012-02-06T00:01:00.000-08:00

There was such an enthusiastic response to our special free offer on the ebook edition of Frankenstein's Legions that we thought we'd do it all over again this week with Abraxas, the science fantasy world that Jamie and I devised for an MMO back when we worked at Eidos.

In fact Abraxas has been free all along right here on this blog, but now you can get the Kindle edition for nothing too. It's on Amazon US here, UK here, Germany here, and... well, if you live elsewhere, just change the suffix in the URL to your local Amazon and you'll find it.

The offer lasts all this week, Monday to Friday inclusive (Pacific Standard Time). You don't just get the Abraxas world background, fauna, exotech items and Russ Nicholson's concept drawings, you also get a rare poem by the king of ancient world fantasy, Robert E Howard himself. Crom himself wouldn't give you a sweeter deal.

It's alive! (And it's free.)

2012-01-31T17:03:00.000-08:00

Just to let Kindle owners know that we're having a promotion for Frankenstein's Legions, the steampunk sequel to Mary Shelley's Gothic SF classic by award-winning author John Whitbourn. You can pick up the Frankenstein's Legions ebook from Amazon US or Amazon UK and if you grab it this week it's free. Yep, free as air, free as lightning, free as a mad hunchback without a care in the world - but only for the rest of this week, so act now. The promotion starts Wednesday February 1st (Pacific Standard Time) and runs till midnight Saturday.

This is nothing to do with the Frankenstein app Jamie and I are currently writing for Profile Books, by the way. That's just one of those coincidences. We'll have more on that Frankenstein in a few weeks, but I can tell you: it's a book app (coded by highly evolved Cantabrigian lifeforms Inkle Studios), it's interactive, it's not a game, it's not steampunk, it's first person (mostly), it's not like anything you've seen before. Here is a picture by Lisa Gray that is one of my mood board inspirations for the work - quite a different vibe, as you can see, from Martin McKenna's awesomely in-your-face visuals for Frankenstein's Legions (above). One day, Martin, we'll get that videogame version done.

The French connection

2012-01-26T02:24:00.000-08:00

With French films creating such a stir at the moment, here's one that role-players are going to like. It stars Megara Entertainment's CEO Mikael Louys taking us on a guided tour of the French edition of the Fabled Lands RPG by Greywood Publishing.

You'll be able to buy it from Megara and the English edition is of course on sale on Amazon (UK and USA). Personally I have just enough French to order a beer and a steak, but Megara's full-color production is such a thing of beauty that I think I'll have to get a copy myself.

Meanwhile, sit back and enjoy the film. And be sure to full-screen it for maximum viewing pleasure.

Is he in heaven, is he in hell?

2012-01-18T15:18:00.000-08:00

It used to be that if you actually wanted to learn what life was like at some time in history, you were better off buying a kids' book. Nowadays, of course, we have immersive history books like Ian Mortimer's Time Traveller's Guide to Medieval England, but back in the 1980s the nearest equivalent to that were Marshall Cavendish's excellent partwork series. Jamie and I designed several mini-games for their Discovery magazine, one of which was this proto-Fabled Lands board/gamebook set in the time of the French Revolution.

The original magazines are out of print now, but you can still buy them online at reasonable prices. Highly recommended if you're researching a historical period for a project or just for fun.

HOW TO PLAY

To start the game, each player chooses a character who is a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Name your character and him or her scores in Stealth, Fencing and Disguise. Your scores must add up to 11, and no score may exceed 5.

Next place a counter representing your character on the board at Paris (A). You will need a six-sided die. Take it in turns to roll the die; the player with the highest score can begin.

In your turn, you can move to any adjacent town or city in the direction of your choice. (Ignore the confusing markings on the arrows; each step, eg from Paris to Dijon or from Bordeaux to Dover, counts as one move.) Each town is marked with a letter and, on your arrival, you must turn to the appropriate letter listed below. This might involve reading one instruction, or you might be guided through a series of instructions. Read each one out aloud for all the players to hear. When you come to an instruction ending in a Pimpernel symbol •, play passes to the player on your left.

Occasionally the entries will ask you to make a Fencing Roll, a Stealth Roll or a Disguise Roll. To do this, roll one die. You succeed if the score is equal to or less than the appropriate skill rating listed on the back of your character. Note that each character has different skill ratings representing their different areas of expertise.

It is a good idea to keep a pencil and paper handy to note down and help you remember any complicated moves.

It is also possible to play the game solo, in which case the aim is simply to return to London without getting captured. (Optionally, you could also set yourself the goal of reaching London within a set number of turns.)

A You return to Paris, reckoning that this is the last place the revolutionaries will be looking for you! And indeed, the confusion which is generated by the Revolutionary Committee's campaign of terror works to your advantage. Roll the die:

1-4 You manage to evade detection and can continue on your way normally next turn. •

5 You get the chance to infiltrate the Public Prosecutor's office and misdirect some patrols being sent out of the city. Make a Stealth Roll. If you succeed, you can move on immediately and on the next player's turn you get to move his piece instead of him. If you fail the Stealth Roll, turn to Z5.

6 You are unable to leave Paris this turn, but by a lucky chance you are able to obtain a Merchant's Pass which could be useful if you wish to get over the Pyrenees into Spain. Keep it. Next turn, refer to this entry and roll again. •

B You travel north on the road to Calais certain in the knowledge that Chauvelin, the sinister servant of the Committee for Public Safety will be on your tail. This road will be particularly dangerous for it is the quickest and shortest route home to England. Roll a die. On a 1 or 2, turn to Z25. On a 3 or 4, turn to Z26. On a 5 or 6 turn to Z27.

C You are on the road to Rouen. Roll a die:

1-2 Large troop movements on the road force you to turn back. Return to where you came from. •

3-6 No incident befalls you and you arrive at Rouen safely. •

D Le Havre! So close to Dover yet so far, for someone has tipped off the authorities that you were heading here. The place is awash with revolutionary guards, spies and assassins. You are forced to go into hiding until the heat is off. Roll the die each turn. On a 6 you can return to Rouen. Otherwise you must stay here. •

E Arriving at the outskirts of Calais you cannot help but notice the strong military presence. Troops guard the walls and armbanded police and grenadiers guard the gates. There are even a couple of eight-pounder artillery pieces. Could this all be for you, you wonder? You can stay in this area and plan your next move (turn to Z31), or decide that it looks too dangerous and head back to Paris (turn to Z32), or go to Strasbourg (turn to Z33).

F Strasbourg is full of troops who have been mobilised against the invading Prussian Army. You have the choice of attempting to lie low in the town (in which case turn to Z1) or disguising yourself and your aristocrat as soldiers (turn to Z2).

G Dijon is a centre of the Revolution! You must succeed in a Stealth Roll before you can continue on your way; make one attempt at this each turn. •

H As you approach Caen, the aristocrat you've rescued tells you he has a premonition of danger. If you decide to enter the town in disguise, turn to Z13. If you try sneaking in after dark, turn to Z14. If you prefer to avoid Caen altogether and make straight for the coast, turn to Z15.

I Arriving at Cherbourg you are met by one of your agents who tells you that the coast is guarded. You can travel to Caen or Rennes next go. •

J You arrive in Rennes. You leave your aristocrat in a tavern called Le Vieux Chasseur while you go to make contact with one of your agents here. Roll the die:

1-3 You return to find your aristocrat arguing with local workers about the rights and wrongs of the Revolution! You are forced to flee out of the town and lie low for a while. Miss your next go. •

4-5 Your agent betrays you to the local garrison. Make a Fencing Roll and a Stealth Roll. If you succeed in both, turn to Z6. If you fail in either, turn to Z7.

6 Because arrangements go smoothly, you can continue normally next turn. •

K Brest is a French naval base, its harbour protected by guns. Roll the die:

1-2 You are spotted and forced to flee. Move to Rennes next go. •

3-4 Turn to Z74.

5-6 Turn to Z75.

L You arrive at Nantes to hear that a British fleet is blockading the port. The town is thick with French marines and will need a Military Pass to get you through. If you have one, turn to Z66. If not, you cannot get through and will have to continue by land on your next turn. •

M You arrive in Chartres safely, with time to view the magnificent cathedral. Unfortunately, a hue and cry goes up in the streets. A large body of revolutionary guards are scouring the town. It seems a plot by royalists to take over the town has been uncovered. A search is on, martial law is declared and a curfew set. You are likely to be discovered. You can seek refuge at the cathedral (turn to Z43), try to fight your way out (turn to Z44) attempt to sneak out of the gates at night (turn to Z45), or try to use a disguise to get out (turn to Z46).

N You make it to Angers without difficulty and spend a pleasant night in a roadside inn. Roll the die. On a 1 or 2, the weather is so bad you are forced to stay and miss a go. Roll again next turn. Any other result means you can carry on to Nantes or Chartres next go. •

O As you near Tours, you hear of recent activity by counter-revolutionary forces. There has been much fighting and a royalist force has recently been defeated. The town is crawling with troops and the guillotine is working overtime in the town square. It is too dangerous to enter the city so you skirt it on an old road. Roll the die:

1-4 You are almost out of the Tours area when an army major recognises you from your last trip to France. "Seize him!" he shouts. You can try to fight your way out of this one (turn to Z64) or flee into a nearby wood (turn to Z65).

5-6 Forced by a patrol to leave the road, you hide in some nearby woods. Move on normally next go. •

P La Rochelle, a French naval base, is heavily fortified and well guarded. You will need to use cunning (turn to Z68) or a disguise (turn to Z69) to get in safely. If you don't want to risk it, move to Bordeaux, Tours or Nantes next go. •

Q You reach the outskirts of Bordeaux safely. Roll the die. If you score 1-4, turn to Z58. If you score a 5 or 6, turn to Z59.

R While heading south on the road to Cahors you chance upon an artillery battery of the French regular army, travelling in the same direction. The captain of the battery does not recognize you and politely asks if you would like to travel with him to lighten an otherwise boring trip. Will you accompany Captain Buonaparte on his journey (turn to Z49) or decline his offer (you can make better speed alone – turn to Z50)?

S You travel up a mountain pass through the Pyrenees toward Spain. However, your only way into Spain is past a heavily garrisoned Frontier Post. If you have a Merchant's Pass they will let your through – turn to Z48. If not, no one is allowed out of France in these troubled times, so next go you must turn back and go to Montpellier, Cahors or Bordeaux. •

T You are delighted to find that many of the peasants around Lyon are opposed to the Revolution. They assist in smuggling you through the town, and so you get another move immediately.

U You are on a boat bound for Dover. However, even with the white cliffs in sight you should not relax your guard; roll the die:

1-3 You dock safely and can continue on to London next turn. •

4-5 Bad weather delays your arrival in port. Next turn, refer to this entry and roll again. •

6 You arrive late at night. Even as you sup a goblet of Mr Jellyband's fine mulled wine in the Fisherman's Rest, you are set upon by a French assassin! Make a Fencing Roll. If you succeed, you disarm him and can proceed to London next turn. • If you don't succeed, your daring mission ends in death! You have lost the game.

V Recent unrest in Orange has led to a strong military presence in the town. Roll the die:

1-2 You are spotted and forced to flee cross-country. Each turn you can roll a dice, and once you score a 1 or 2 can move to Cahors next turn. •

3-4 You decide to be prudent and hide out in an isolated farmhouse for a few days. If you stay hidden in a barn, turn to Z8. If you decide to risk approaching the farmer for help, turn to Z9.

5-6 You are forced to go to ground in the attic of a deserted townhouse, and with troops guarding the gates it may not be easy to get on your way. You can either use cunning to get past them (turn to Z10) or else you can rely on your abilities at disguise (turn to Z11).

W From Montpellier you have two alternative routes out of France: either across the Pyrenees into Spain, or by boat all the way around the coast up to the Channel. If you choose the former plan, turn to Z21. If the latter, turn to Z22. If you decide to spend time in Montpellier for any reason, turn to Z23.

X There are rumours of a British fleet moored off the coast near Marseille. If you try to get a boat out to rendezvous with them, turn to Z24. If you think that sounds too risky, you could proceed by road to Montpellier next turn. •

Y You have successfully made it to London, leading another French aristocrat to freedom. You win! Jolly good show!

Z1 Make a Stealth Roll. If you succeed, you can continue on your way next turn. • If you fail, turn to Z3.

Z2 Make a Disguise Roll. If you succeed, you can continue on your way next turn. • If you fail, turn to Z4.

Z3 You hide behind some gunpowder barrels but are discovered. If you succeed in a Fencing Roll you will be able to struggle free and continue on your way next turn. • Otherwise you are captured and should turn to Z5.

Z4 A cruel stroke of fate: your aristocrat is recognised by a soldier who used to work as his gardener! If you succeed in a Fencing Roll you will be able to escape and continue on your way next turn. • Otherwise you are captured and should turn to Z5.

Z5 You are under arrest, but you have a chance of escape. Roll the die:

1 -4 You slip away from your captors. Miss a turn. •

5-6 Turn to Z51.

Z6 You fight free of the soldiers waiting to ambush you and manage to lose them in the backstreets. Meeting up with your aristocrat, you will be able to move on next turn. •

Z7 You barely get out of Rennes in one piece, and you may have to backtrack to avoid pursuit. You must attempt a Disguise Roll and if you fail, then one of the other players (you decide who) gets to move your piece instead of you. At each turn, try again. Once you succeed in your Disguise Roll, you will be able to move normally again. •

Z8 It could be some time before it is safe to move on. Each turn, roll the dice. You can continue on your way once you have rolled a 1 or a 2. •

Z9 Luckily he is sympathetic because the Revolutionary Army recently mss- sacred protesters in this region. He tells you that if you hope to get over the Pyrenees into Spain you will need a Merchant's Pass, and he thinks that Montpellier is the best place to try and get one. •

Z10 Make a Stealth Roll. If you fail, you are apprehended and sent back to Paris – turn to Z5. If you succeed, you are able to slip out of the city gates. •

Z11 Make a Disguise Roll. If you succeed, continue normally next go. • If you fail, soldiers try to stop you and you must turn to Z12.

Z12 Make a Fencing Roll. If you succeed, you are able to flee into the countryside and hide in a barn – turn to Z8. If you fail, you are caught – turn to Z5.

Z13 Make a Disguise Roll. If you succeed, turn to Z16. If you fail, turn to Z17.

Z14 Make a Stealth Roll. If you fail, turn to Z19. If you succeed, you manage to creep unnoticed past the town guards – turn to Z18.

Z15 "C'est prudent!" declares your companion as the two of you bed down in a hayrick for the night. You can continue on your way next turn. •

Z16 Your disguise as two priests from Chartres completely fools the sentries on the town gate – turn to Z18.

Z17 Your disguise as priests from Chartres does not convince the sentries guarding the main gate. You are arrested. Turn to Z5.

Z18 While arranging a night's lodging at an inn in town, you notice an old soldier staring thoughtfully at you over his beer. If you risk approaching him, turn to Z20. Otherwise you go quietly to your room and continue on your way next turn. •

Z19 You are caught and held in the gatehouse until you can be sent back to Paris for interrogation – turn to Z5.

Z20 As you get closer, you see that he is actually Lord Anthony Dewhurst, one of your most trusty agents. He leads you to where your yacht, the Day Dream, is waiting, and next turn you can move directly to Dover. •

Z21 If you have a Merchant's Pass you will be able to continue to Spain next turn. • If not, you will have to backtrack to Montpellier in the hope of getting one – go back and miss a turn. •

Z22 Getting passage on a boat will not be easy, and the voyage is apt to be lengthy. Roll the dice each turn; on a roll of 1 you have reached Dover. •

Z23 Anyone travelling to Spain needs a Merchant's Pass. You know better than to attempt the journey without such documents. Each turn, roll the dice. on a roll of 1-3 you have obtained a pass and can continue on to Spain the following turn. •

Z24 There is a certain resentment towards the revolutionary troops locally because of a recent spate of brutal executions, but you cannot presume on just anyone for assistance because spies are everywhere. Roll the dice:

1-2 You reach the British fleet and can travel to Dover next turn. •

3-4 A series of close shaves means that you have to lie low for a couple of days. Next turn you can either proceed overland to Montpellier or refer to this entry and roll again •.

5 Soldiers masquerading as fishermen ambush you on the beach. Make a Fencing Roll. If you fail, they overpower you – turn to Z5. If you succeed, you escape from them and can make another roll immediately, subtracting 2 from the score.

6 Revolutionary agents pretend to be fishermen sympathetic to your cause, then deliver you straight into the hands of the local soldiery! You are sent back to Paris under heavy guard – turn to Z5.

Z25 You learn that the area ahead is heavily patrolled by soldiers. Will you try to sneak past them tonight, (turn to Z28), try to brazen your way through in disguise (turn to Z29) or try to charge straight through on horseback (turn to Z30)?

Z26 You come across an inn – Le Carabinier – and your companion claims an overwhelming fatigue and begs to stay and relax a while. You are safely inside, when a large patrol of revolutionary guards enter the inn. You hurriedly retire to your room and lock the door, waiting for nightfall. Roll the dice:

1-5 You try to sneak away at night but the place is awash with bluecoats and you are spotted easily and the pursuit is on. You race away, and lose them in some woods. However, they are alerted now, and the road to Calais has become impossible. You are forced to return to Paris. Move your token there next go •O.

6 Luckily for you, the night is as black as pitch. Rain and high winds lash the tormented earth –not a guardsman will step outside tonight. You make your escape Move normally next turn. •

Z27 After only a few hours travel on the road you run into a huge mass of marching troops on the road ahead. There is no way past! Move back to where you came from and move normally next go. •

Z28 You attempt to sneak past these troops at night. Make a Stealth roll. If you succeed, you escape with ease and can move on normally next go. • If you fail, your aristocrat steps in a cowpat near a sentry post. His cry of "Sacre Bleu! How absolutely jolly disgusting, what," in a loud voice alerts them to your presence and you are discovered and arrested – turn to Z5.

Z29 You 'procure' a cart loaded with barrels of wine and approach the checkpoint disguised as merchants. Make a Disguise roll. If you succeed, you pass through unnoticed and may move on normally next go. • If you fail, a guard notices the fact that your aristocrat has in fact partaken of the wine supplies and is loudly and drunkenly toasting the King. You are stopped and arrested –turn to Z5.

Z30 You canter up to a heavily manned checkpoint as if nothing was wrong. Suddenly, at the last moment you give a blood-curdling yell and spur your horse forward. The guards scatter in terror –however, some come back to fight. Make a Fencing Roll. If you succeed, move on normally next go. • If you fail, you are taken prisoner – turn to Z5.

Z31 You have two choices – to try and get into Calais itself and make your way to the docks (turn to Z34, or to go to the Chat Gris, a nearby inn (turn to Z36).

Z32 Move your marker to Paris next turn. •

Z33 Move your marker to Strasbourg next turn. •

Z34 Trying to enter this heavily guarded town was a definite mistake. Chauvelin himself, the sinister servitor of the Committee for Public Safety who has

sworn to catch the Pimpernel, is here and you are recognized. You are taken before him. He sneers, "I have you this time, Pimpernel!" Turn to Z5.

Z35 A large French fleet of warships is stationed outside the port-city of Calais. There will be no escape by sea here. As you turn back, some drunken sailors decide to pick a fight with you. Make a Fencing roll. If you succeed turn to Z37. If you fail, turn to Z38.

Z36 The Chat Gris is a dilapidated inn run by a crusty old peasant. You notice a dirty beggar in the corner, and to your surprise, you recognize your friend and accomplice, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, in disguise! He tells you that Sir Percy Blakeney's yacht, the Day Dream, is expected at the cove here any day now. You can wait here for it or you can travel to Strasbourg, Paris or Rouen. Next go, you may move normally or wait for the yacht – if you decide to wait, you should roll the dice. If you get a 6, turn to Z39; on a 1, turn to Z40. If you do not roll a 1 or 6, roll again the following turn, unless you decide to move by land. Make a note of the paragraph numbers if you intend to stay. •

Z37 You fight with commendable skill. The sailors have had enough and run off, leaving two of their comrades behind. Searching them you find a Seaman's Pass. Next go, you may travel to Strasbourg, Paris or remain here (back to B again). You cannot go to Dover. •

Z38 The sailors rough you up, rob you, and leave you unconscious. Miss your next turn and then you may move to Strasbourg, Paris or remain here (back to B), but you cannot go to Dover. •.

Z39 At last the Day Dream is here! Will you row out to it now (turn to Z41) or wait till nightfall (turn to Z42)?

Z40 You are waiting for the Day Dream when many soldiers burst into the inn! It seems that the innkeeper had become suspicious of you, and reported you to the revolutionary authorities. You are arrested – Turn to Z5.

Z41 Roll the die. On a 6 you make it to the Day Dream unnoticed and may travel to Dover next go. • On a 1-5, a French frigate spots you and you are forced to surrender. Turn to Z5.

Z42 Under cover of darkness you row out to the Day Dream safely. Next go you may travel to Dover. •

Z43 Fortunately for you, the priest at the cathedral is a royalist sympathiser. He hides you safely in the crypt for a few days until the troops have left. Miss your next turn. •

Z44 You decide to start a small diversionary fire at the town barracks before trying to break out at one of the least guarded gates. Make a Fencing roll, but add 1 to the roll as the troopers are alert. If you succeed, turn to Z47. If you fail, you are overpowered and captured -turn to Z5.

Z45 You try to sneak out over the city walls at night. Make a Stealth Roll. If you succeed, turn to Z47. If you fail, you are captured - turn to Z5.

Z46 You try to brazen your way past the gates disguised as a revolutionary peasant with cries of "Vive la Revolution!" Make a Disguise Roll. If you succeed turn to Z47. If you fail, they see through your disguise - turn to Z5.

Z47 You have managed to get out of Chartres undetected. Move on normally next go. •

Z48 You make it safely into Spain, where you have no trouble chartering a boat. Move to Dover next go. •

Z49 The Captain is a man of Corsican descent who decided to make his career in the army. He seems pleasant enough and soon the conversation turns to military matters. Roll the dice. On a 1-3, turn to Z52. On a 4-6, turn to Z53.

Z50 You gallop on ahead, making good time. Roll the dice. On a 1 -3, turn to Z54. On a 4-6, turn to Z55.

Z51 You are taken to the Bastille. Put your playing piece back in Paris. Each turn you may roll the dice, and when you get a 1 or 6, you have escaped and can continue. •

Z52 You discuss the use of artillery in modern warfare, but he seems singularly unimpressed with your grasp of the matter. However, the trip passes uneventfully, and because you are with an army unit you are able to pass through Cahors without difficulty. •

Z53 Somehow you manage to convince the captain that you have a good grasp of artillery tactics, mainly by agreeing with everything he says. In fact, he likes you so much he gives you a Military Pass. Keep it. The rest of the trip passes uneventfully, and because you are with an army unit, you are able to pass through Cahors without difficulty. Unfortunately, the battery travels quite slowly, despite the captain's frenetic energy, and you must miss a turn before moving on normally. •

Z54 With extraordinary luck you make it to Cahors safely. Move on normally next go. •

Z55 Unfortunately, you run into a patrol outside Cahors. You can try to bluff your way past them (turn to Z56) or fight your way past (turn to Z57).

Z56 You tell a tall tale. Make a Disguise roll. If you succeed they fall for it and you may carry on - turn to Z54. If you fail, they see through your ruse and take you in for questioning - turn to Z5.

Z57 You draw your sword and attack, taking them by surprise. Make a Fencing roll. If you succeed, you cut through them and ride on to Cahors at full speed - urn to Z54. If you fail, you are clubbed unconscious. Turn to Z5.

Z58 Getting into the city presents no problem. To reach the coastal area you will need a Seaman's Pass. If you have one and wish to go there, turn to Z61. If not you must travel by land next go. •

Z59 Cruel fate deals you a low blow! Incredibly, your aristocrat is recognised by a passing revolutionary fanatic who was once his valet. He denounces him. Make a Fencing Roll. If you succeed, turn to Z60. If you fail, you are almost hanged there and then before some officials intervene to take you away. Turn to Z5.

Z60 You fight off the crazed citizens, saving the aristocrat's life. "I never did treat that valet well," he comments ruefully before giving you an old family heirloom - a large Diamond Ring. Keep it. Next turn you can move on normally. If you decide to remain at Bordeaux, turn to Z58 next go. •

Z61 You can try to charter a boat (turn to Z62) or head for the old portside house where one of your agents lives (turn to Z63).

Z62 You find the captain of a small yacht who is prepared to take you to Dover for a large fee. Unfortunately, he betrays you to the authorities. Turn to Z5.

Z63 You reach the house safely where your agent, an ardent royalist, is ready for you. He says he has communicated with Captain Briggs of the Day Dream (Sir Percy Blakeney's yacht) and that it will be offshore any day now. You can wait for it here. Next go, roll a die. On a 5 or 6, it arrives and you can travel to Dover the go after. On a 1, you are found by the authorities before the yacht arrives and must turn to Z5. Any other result means you must wait another go before moving on. •

Z64 Make a Fencing Roll. If you succeed, you beat off the attackers and disarm the army Major, leaving him in a rage again. Move on next go. • If you fail, you are overpowered - turn to Z5.

Z65 Make a Stealth Roll. If you succeed, you are able to lose your pursuers in the wood. Move on next go. • If not, you are caught and have no choice but to fight. Turn to Z64.

Z66 There is a checkpoint you must pass through before you reach the docks. A bored looking guard slouches at an iron gate. Roll the die. On a 1, he decides to

search you; your aristocrat panics and you are apprehended – turn to Z5. If you roll a 2-6, turn to Z67.

Z67 The guard waves you through. That night you steal a boat and row out to the fleet. They are pleased to receive you and send you on to Dover in a frigate. Move to U next go. •

Z68 Make a Stealth Roll. If you succeed, you are to get into the town via the sewers. Turn to Z70. If not, you are smelt out and arrested. Turn to Z5.

Z69 Make a Disguise Roll. If successful, you get into town disguised as a rat catcher. Turn to Z70. If not, the guards smell a rat and you are arrested. Turn to Z5.

Z70 As luck would have it, your aristocrat knows of a friendly sailor in the port who owns a small boat that could take you to Dover. You set sail immediately. However, you are stopped by a French warship and asked for a Seaman's Pass. If you have one, you may proceed to Dover next go. • If not, you cannot leave La Rochelle by sea. Miss a turn and then you may move to Bordeaux, Tours or Nantes. •

Z71 Roll the die. On a 1-3, your aristocrat gets blind drunk and passes out. You are forced to stay the next day while he rests in bed. Miss a turn. Then you may travel to Caen or Rennes, or stay here and roll again. • If you roll a 4-6, turn to Z72.

Z72 You notice the innkeeper conducting a shady deal with a disreputable man in the corner. The innkeeper hands over some money and then they leave. Following them out, you see the innkeeper take delivery of some barrels of brandy. The disreputable man is a smuggler! If you approach the smuggler, turn to Z73. If not, you may move to Caen or Rennes next turn. •

Z73 Having convinced the smuggler you are not a Customs man, he offers to take you to Dover - for a price. If you have a Diamond Ring he will take that. Move to Dover next turn. • If not, you can travel to Caen or Rennes next go. •

Z74 A drunken sailor who has lost all his money gambling and drinking offers to sell you his Seaman's Pass. Buy it. Next go, you may move on or stay at Brest and roll again. •

Z75 You manage to find someone who is prepared to sell you his boat. After a few minutes at sea, the coastal batteries open fire on you. You have been betrayed! Roll the dice. On a 4-6, you escape with your life and make it to Dover; move to U next go. • On a 1-3, your boat is blown out of the water. A French frigate picks you up and you are arrested; turn to Z5.

Those unheard are sweeter

2012-01-11T00:01:00.000-08:00

Ever thought novels ought to have soundtracks? I must admit, it's not something that ever occurs to me when absorbed in a good book, but I do occasionally use music as part of the writing process. On the site for her novel My Memories of a Future Life, my wife Roz has a series called "The Undercover Soundtrack" in which she talks to authors about the music they use to unlock the muse. In her own words:

"If a novel could have a soundtrack, what would it be? Writers often have a secret ur-score that helps them shape their world, understand their characters and unfold their story."

This week, Roz talks to fantasy author Katherine Langrish, acclaimed author of several fantasy novels for children and young adults, including the Troll Fell trilogy. For her latest book, Dark Angels (US title The Shadow Hunt*), Ms Langrish used the troubadour songs of southern France as part of the creative process; "I needed the plangent, plaintive music of the 12th century to understand my lead character's pain," she explains.

If you're interested in good fantasy literature and how it gets written, the interview is right here.

Odd btw that the US edition has a much more evocative title, but is marred by a cover that seems to have been taken from a Mills & Boon romance of the early 1950s. Check it out via the link only if you have a high tolerance for saccharine and chintz. The UK cover (above) at least has some oomph, if not actual oompapa.

More seasonal freebies

2011-12-29T06:32:00.000-08:00

A cross-post from the Mirabilis blog today for any comic book fans who found a Kindle under the Christmas tree. Leo Hartas, Martin McKenna and I have just re-released the Kindle mini-episodes collecting the first thirty pages of Mirabilis: Winter volume 1. If you're signed up for Amazon Prime you can borrow the Kindle episodes anytime, but even if not you can get the first two completely free tomorrow or Saturday.

Episode 1.1 is "Stung!" which first appeared in DFC #30 (the 2008 Christmas issue). Jack is about to face a duel to the death when he finds an ancient two-headed coin that's destined to change his life forever. Get "Stung!" from the Kindle Store US here and UK here.

Episode 1.2 is "The Door in the Water". Jack meets Gus for the first time - but it's in a dream, so maybe it doesn't count. And when he wakes up he goes witch-hunting, only it turns out the witch is the one with the killing jar. That's in the Kindle Store US here and UK here.

Episode 1.3, "The Wrong Side of Bedlam" sees Gus (that's Talisin of the Shining Brow to us) escaping from a padded cell, Jack trapped in a witch bottle, and the boffins of the Royal Mythological Society explaining what's in store now the green comet has reappeared. It's in the Kindle Store US here and UK here.

And if you don't have a Kindle, don't despair, because all of those early episodes are online right here.

Edge of the world, Ma!

2011-12-24T00:31:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news (I always do bad news first) - well, it's not too bad. I have a lot of work to do on the Frankenstein book app over the next month or so, and it's not going to leave much time for blogging, so posts will be less frequent for a while.

If you get withdrawal symptoms, you can always go look at some old posts; we've got hundreds. (Here's one of my favorites to get you started.) And if you were given some book tokens by Auntie and want some ideas what to do with them: eyes right, my friend. It's that simple.

Okay, so the good news is that Fabled Lands LLP has prepared a little Christmas present and you can pick it up here. It's just for a few days, though. If the link doesn't work, I'm afraid you missed Santa and he's gone back to the North Pole till next year. Or maybe he's gone to the South Pole this year. Tekeli-li.

Happy Christmas from me, Jamie, Tim and Franklin. God rest ye merry, good and worthy wights.

The image is "At the Edge of the World" by Maciej Duczynski. It's certainly copyright but used here because its presence on Pixdaus implies that it can be freely linked to. Scoot over to Pixdaus to see the original at full size.

The shape of the universe

2011-12-23T04:34:00.000-08:00

Have a guess what this is. Give up? Okay, it's the flowchart for Fabled Lands book one: The War Torn Kingdom. It was created by Spirit Entertainment, the company who are currently adapting the first six FL books for Android, browsers and (we hope) Kindle. These titles are scheduled for next Easter and, as soon as I can get the nod from Spirit supremo Steve Iles, I'll unveil some of the stupendous artwork his team have been creating. I promise you, you'll be blown away.

While you're waiting, here's something to keep your gamebook muscles exercised. Christmas is upon us and, just like last year, we have a little gift for you. Come back tomorrow and all will be revealed. But don't get too distracted by turkey and mince pies, because it's for a very limited time only. By Boxing Day it'll just be a melted puddle...

Reviews and tigers and gamebooks, oh my!

2011-12-19T01:39:00.000-08:00

In the most perfect team-up since Simon said whassup to Garfunkel, gamebook experts Andrew Wright and Stuart Lloyd have got together to create Lone Tiger Gamebooks, a review site that will especially cover the more obscure and/or amateur gamebooks that you might otherwise not get to hear about.

There are lots of hidden gems out there, and thanks to Stuart and Andy there's now more chance of finding them. Their blog depends on volunteer reviewers, of course, so if you have a favourite gamebook (classic or contemporary, famous or unknown) that you're willing to write about, why not drop them a line?

Castle of Lost Souls part three: "The Demon Road"

2011-12-14T08:00:00.000-08:00

If you've been waiting since August for the third part of The Castle of Lost Souls then I can only apologize that it's taken so long, and thank you for your patience. As already mentioned, this was my first ever stab at a choose-your-own type scenario, first published in White Dwarf magazine in the summer of 1984. The extremely skimpy prose was necessary because I only had four pages for each monthly instalment. Later we were to come full circle, using deliberately pared-down descriptive passages in the Fabled Lands books - though by then Jamie and I had, I believe, learned to write both well and economically.

I was sitting in the White Dwarf offices in Sunbeam Road one morning. Don't be fooled by the name, incidentally; it was on a grim west London industrial estate - there it is below, in fact. The very building. Anyway, the phone rang. "Yes, we do happen to have the writer here," said Jamie, handing it to me. A Scottish chap was on the line, demanding to know what he was supposed to do having triggered a poison trap in one of the episodes.

"Well, you're dead," I said.

"I know that. It says that. But what can I do about it?"

"Nothing - other than starting the adventure again from the beginning."

He sounded disappointed. Even a little peeved. "That's it? Start again, you say?"

He couldn't see me shrug. "Look on the bright side. If you were dead in real life, you couldn't even do that."

Another satisfied customer? No, he most certainly was not!

If you'll willing to risk death, you can find part one here and part two here, though the episodes were designed to be self-contained. If you're just launching in with this instalment, you'll just need the rules but note that you start off with an Honour score of 5 rather than 3. You have those items listed in the first paragraph too (all except the last two).

THE DEMON ROAD

You are the champion of the Greengosh family, chosen by its head, Hogron. He hired you to rescue his father’s soul, captured and taken to the castle of Slank, an ogre or demon. To do this Hogron told you that you needed some magical boots, a teardrop, a fragment of armour from the most chivalrous knight, a four leaf clover, a crystal ball, the ashes of a saint and the hair of a nun. These last two items you have yet to collect, and are hoping to do so during the journey to the castle. When you are ready to start, go to 1.

1: You take breakfast with the Greengosh family. Few of the brothers seem talkative so early in the morning. Some glower from obvious hangovers and one or two stare bemusedly at you as though trying to place your face. ‘This is the noble champion who will rescue our father’s soul!’ declares Hogron suddenly, and everyone sits up. Perterra Greengosh watches you with a look of palpable scepticism which you find disturbing in one so young. The butler brings you your weapons and backpack. ‘I have had Mortlake pack some provisions for your journey,’ Hogron continues. ‘And you will also find in your pack a small pot containing four applications of a magical Salve of Healing’ (a rather foul smelling preparation made from rancid milk, animal fat and rotting vegetables which actually has remarkable healing properties; spreading it on your wounds after a fight will restore 4 points to your Constitution each time it is used. Note it with your other items on the Character Sheet). But note also that you only have enough for four applications.

You take a few moments to prepare yourself for the great trials that await you. Will you succeed, and live on in legends until the end of time? Or will you sink into the mists of obscurity, lost to some nameless fate in a far-off land? Only the future will tell.

You pull on the magic boots and take up your belongings. Hogron, napkin still in hand, accompanies you as far as the dining room door. ‘I wish you good luck in your venture,’ he says through a mouthful of toast. ’I can offer you no help or advice save these two snippets of information. First, I have heard that the two principal goblin tribes of the Mungo Hills are the Drans and the Kabbagoos, and that one or the other tribe are inveterate liars. Secondly, it is said that strange phantasms can appear in the mists enveloping the Swamps of Bosh. These phantasms can cause a traveller no hardship as long as he or she disregards them. And now, farewell!’

You leave the Greengosh mansion and make your way to the town’s west gate. Somewhere on your journey you must find a saint’s ashes and the hair of a nun. But for now all that occupies your mind is that it is a glorious morning and you are about to embark on another challenging adventure. Turn to 42.

2: Ahead of you the horizon is lost in a blur of mist. Realizing that it will be difficult to find wood to start your campfire in the dank Swamps of Bosh, you start to gather kindling as you descend the trail. As you reach the low-lying moors and marshes of Bosh your progress is slowed considerably, for you have to wend your way around tracts of treacherous mire. Out of the corner of your eye you notice something – a crystal ball, of all things, just off the path to your left. It looks unsettlingly like the one you should have in your backpack. Will you go over to this crystal ball to examine it (turn to 25), check that the original ball is still in your backpack (turn to 53) or simply walk on (turn to 94)?

3: You walk on at a brisk pace. You are on your way out of the hills by mid afternoon. Up ahead, you see that the trail forks in two. One way will take you on into the Swamps of Bosh (where you are headed) but the other presumably leads to the notorious Dragonbreath Canyon (where you definitely do not want to go). Beside the fork there is a large flat rock on which squat two tiny, shrivelled goblins with large heads and a shock of white hair over their sharp, wily faces. ‘Are you a Dran or a Kabbagoo?’ you ask the first goblin as you stride up to them. He answers so indistinctly that you cannot hear him, but then the second goblin pipes up: ‘He said he’s a Kabbagoo. Are you deaf or something?’ Ignoring his disrespectful attitude, you demand of the second goblin which route you should take to reach the Swamps of Bosh. ‘Swamps of Bosh?’ he replies. ‘You want to go left.’ As you set off, he calls after you: ‘Go on, push off to Bosh!’ Both goblins start giggling, but you cannot be bothered to go back and teach them a lesson. Will you take the left-hand path (turn to 84) or the right-hand path (turn to 73)?

4: He jumps and weaves with confusing speed, and will be a difficult foe to beat.

TOLL COLLECTOR: Fighting Prowess: 9; Constitution: 10; no armour.

If you win, turn to 18.

5: Your sudden attack surprises the robbers, who took you for a fellow highwayman. You kill one of them with a single blow. Two more are occupied holding the captives, so you have four to fight:

‘HEADCUT’ AHOOL: Fighting Prowess: 6; Constitution: 6; 1-point armour.
IPCOLL THE SOUR: Fighting Prowess: 4; Constitution: 6; 1-point armour.
UKNORTHE BARBARIAN: Fighting Prowess: 5; Constitution: 8; no armour.
LIRRIPON DROOL: Fighting Prowess: 6; Constitution: 5; 1-point armour.

All four of them get to strike at you each round. If you drank the potion, however, you can strike back at three of them every round! If you actually manage to beat them all, turn to 86.

6: The mist’s fingers poke and pry, stroke and search, around your backpack. You realize that the mist is like an entity – a wraith which creates illusions to try and trick you. You are not fooled. Turn to 30.

7: After almost an hour you have not got any closer to your destination. It is obviously time to try something else, and you search in your backpack for inspiration. Turn to 72.

8: It takes real courage to attack a lammasu. No brains, just courage.

LAMMASU: Fighting Prowess: 10; Constitution: 20; fur counts as 1 -point armour.

You can escape after three rounds by running off (turn to 44). If you kill the lammasu, turn to 95.

9: The man, whose name is Garl, feeds you with a delicious and nourishing stew. The wine he offers is also excellent – nothing like the rough homebrew you had expected. Garl is obviously even drunker than you thought. He sits in his armchair watching you eat, taking great gulps from his mug and saying things such as, ‘You are an adventurer who has performed deeds of great credit while I am but a hermit with a dubious past. Yet when we belch, where then is the difference between us?’ Finally, noticing you stifle a yawn, he shows you to your room. Will you go to sleep (turn to 46) or sit up and keep watch (turn to 74)?

10: You identify some tracks leading to the other side of the valley. Following these, you are led to a sort of shrine. Turn to 90.

11: You are walking against a freezing wind. You see darkness on the horizon beyond the castle. The storm will soon engulf you. The whole sky darkens as the clouds billow up from the horizon and white stripes advance to hide the castle from view. Hailstones the size of a man’s fist pound down all around you. If you cannot find refuge from the storm quickly you will be pummelled to death! Even the mist disperses, taking shelter wherever it may. One of the tendrils of mist drifts down into the ground where you see a hole like the burrow of a large animal. If it is a burrow you may have to fight its occupant –but that is certainly better than being battered to death by the hailstones. You descend into the hole. Turn to 21.

12: Roll one die for the damage your arrow does. To bring the chonchon down you must roll 4 or more – otherwise, although winged, it still manages to fly off (turn to 41). If you bring it down, turn to 59.

13: ‘Ho there!’ he cries, struggling with the fishing rod. ‘A fine one has the bait this morning, but I need a net before I land him. Will you hold the rod a few minutes while I fetch one from my cottage? You can do as he asks (turn to 97) or decline and go on your way (turn to 68).

14: Four of the robbers see you coming and leave their comrades to massacre the guard while they deal with you. You will have to fight all four at once. They will each get to try to hit you every round. If you drank the potion, you will get three strikes every round (for duration of this fight only!).

EMAJ DOGBREATH: Fighting Prowess: 3; Constitution: 5: 1 -point armour.
IPCOLL THE SOUR: Fighting Prowess: 4; Constitution: 6: 1 -point armour.
‘HEADCUT’ AHOOL: Fighting Prowess: 6; Constitution: 6; 1-point armour.
UKNOR THE BARBARIAN: Fighting Prowess: 5; Constitution: 8; no armour.

If you beat all four, turn to 79. If you decide you cannot beat them, you can escape by running off towards the hills (turn to 50).

15: You open the phial and let the tear fall into your own eye, thinking perhaps that it will show you the true route to the castle. Unfortunately this does not work – and you have now used the teardrop (remove it from your Character Sheet). You grind your teeth and trudge on.
Turn to 82.

16: By the time you reach the tree, the strands of of hair are no longer there. Or perhaps they weren’t there in the first place... You continue on your way. Turn to 6.

17: You step back from the door as Garl’s ponderous footsteps approach. You watch as the latch is slowly raised. The door swings open and Garl stands there axe in hand, blinking as his eyes become accustomed to the darkness. With a yell you swing your sword. Turn to 64 for the fight. Because he is surprised, Garl will not get to strike back in the first round.

18: You climb down under the arch of the bridge and search through his belongings. You get 18 Gold Pieces and a magical Potion of Dazzling Speed. Note these down on your Character Sheet. After dumping the toll collector’s body in the river, you press on. Turn to 70.

19: You scramble frantically up the cliff. A voice calls up from below – to your astonishment, the lammasu can talk! ‘Look here,’ it says, ‘for one thing I can jump that high anyway, let alone fly, so you might as well come down. More importantly, I seem to have this bloody great thorn thing stuck right through my paw.’ Will you climb down to help the lammasu (turn to 60), or stay where you are (turn to 35)?

20: Lose another point of Honour – though you must surely have none left by now. You hide the bodies in a ditch by the side of the road. Gorbran had 9 gold pieces in his belt-pouch – a modest profit, but one which warms your evil heart. You continue on your way. Turn to 66.

21: The hole is damp, yet it is a great relief to be out of the icy bombardment. You hear a soft squelching. To your horror the surrounding ‘walls’ are closing in. A liquid oozes from them and trickles down around your feet, and you look down to see you are being sucked into the ‘mud’. An odour like bile rises about you. You cannot escape; your legs are trapped and you feel as though the strength is being drawn from you – as a piece of food might feel in an enormous stomach, perhaps! You have only moments in which to act. Desperately you search your backpack for something to use. Will you try using the ashes (turn to 36), the Salve of Healing (turn to 51), or the teardrop (turn to 77)?

22: The instant you strike the first spark from your flint, the marshons rush forward eagerly towards the source of light. You are engulfed by hundreds of slippery, clambering bodies. More and more marshons surge into the struggling horde, anxious to see the light, and you are soon overwhelmed and crushed by the stampede. Your adventure ends here.

23. You wend your way up to the hut and rap smartly on the door. A small flap opens and a bloodshot eye peers out at you. Then you hear bolts being drawn back and the door is opened by a heavyset man in red and black robes. Seeing you, he smiles and holds up the jug of wine he has in one hand. ‘As the sun sinks in its own blood and night strokes the land with fingers of shadow, let us drink together and pass merry comment on the transience of things!’ It is clear he has imbibed several jugs of wine already, as he seems to be slurring his words somewhat. Will you accept his offer (turn to 9) or decline and leave, preferring to camp outside for the night (turn to 33).

24: It occurs to you that if someone has left fresh flowers by the idol, there may be a religious community nearby. Perhaps you could get one or both of the items you need? Roll two dice, attempting to score less than or equal to your Cleverness. If you succeed, turn to 10. If you fail, turn to 76.

25: A bank of mist rolls in front of you. You walk forward through the mist but cannot find the crystal ball anywhere. Somewhat perplexed, you decide to return to the path and continue on. Turn to 94.

26: You have fallen victim to a spell of blood thinning. In future, whenever you are wounded you must deduct 1 extra point from your Constitution. While you bemoan your ill-luck, the detestable chonchon shrieks with laughter and flies off into the mists. Turn to 41.

27: You trek on towards the castle, but every time you glance away from it you look up to find it is in a different location. Nor do you seem to be getting any closer. You decide to try one of your items. Turn to 72.

28: The gods do not want their shrine sullied by the likes of you. They send one of their servants – a huge, halberd-wielding warrior clad in white armour who steps from a shining rent in the air in front of you. You are so taken aback by his sudden and miraculous appearance that you do not get to strike back on the first round. After that the fight proceeds normally.

ANGEL EXECUTIONER: Fighting Prowess: 8; Constitution: 14; 2-point armour.

If you beat him, he turns into a stream of clear water and flows away. Turn to 39.

29: You help the robbers to kill the last guard. Lose 1 point of Honour. One or two of the robbers start pushing the old man around while the rest go over to look at the palanquin. You hear a shriek and they bundle a white-robed damsel with long black hair out onto the road. One of the robbers shouts out that the old man has only a few gold pieces. ’In that case,’ snarls the leader, spitting into the dust, ‘we’ll have to entertain ourselves as best we can, won’t we, lads?’ You are not quite sure what to do now. You can attack the robbers and try to help the old man and the girl escape (turn to 96) or simply slink away while the robbers enjoy their ‘entertainment’ (turn to 66).

30: Since it is now getting late you start to look around for somewhere to make camp. You soon find a patch of high ground and get a fire going with the wood you collected earlier. After a light supper you settle down and go to sleep.

You come awake suddenly. Hours have passed -the fire is just glowing embers now. Creatures are stirring in the darkness all around you. Slowly you sit up. Your camp is surrounded by hordes of marshons. These are small, hairless, leathery creatures with webbed hands and large lidless eyes. They have been attracted by your fire and the starlight glinting off your sword, stuck in the ground beside you. They move around you like moths around a candle. From what you have heard, they eat only fungus and swamp weed – but nonetheless you are in the most deadly peril from them for, if they press forward towards the light which has attracted them, you will be smothered and crushed by the countless hundreds of bodies.

What will you do? You could toss your sword away in the hope that they will scurry after it (turn to 93), or light your lantern (turn to 22) or – if you have one – you could use your Ring of Light (turn to 67).

31: He scratches the back of his neck. ‘Don’t know about the strand of hair,’ he says after some thought. ‘Isn’t it true nuns shave their heads when they enter a convent, anyway? But there is a sort of shrine not too far from here where some old holy man was buried. Maybe he was a saint.’ He gives you directions and you set off in search of the shrine. Turn to 90.

32: The creatures attacking you are chonchons. These disembodied heads fly using their large veined ears as wings and attack by biting with their chisel-like teeth. Three of them fly in to engage you:

FIRST CHONCHON: Fighting Prowess: 5; Constitution: 8; no armour.
SECOND CHONCHON: Fighting Prowess: 4; Constitution: 4; no armour.
THIRD CHONCHON: Fighting Prowess: 7; Constitution: 5; no armour.

They will each get to strike at you every round, but you can only attempt to hit one at a time-unless you drank the magic potion, in which case you can attempt three blows a round for the rest of this combat. If a chonchon is down to 2 or fewer points of Constitution at the end of any round, it will fly up out of combat. If you are still fighting at least one of the chonchons after four rounds, turn to 65. Otherwise turn to 91.

33: You spot a niche in the ridge and scramble up the slope to it. The ledge is quite wide, and you are able to comfortably stretch out on it. You decide it is a good place to spend the night – wolves and the like will be unable to reach you. You awaken early the next morning. Add 3 Constitution points for your rest. You gather your belongings and continue onwards. Turn to 68.

34: You stumble on, only to trip over a clump of turf and fall flat on your face in the mud. Picking yourself up, you scowl, set your jaw and start trudging doggedly towards the distant castle. You decide to look for inspiration in your backpack. Turn to 72.

35: ‘You’re being remarkably unhelpful,’ says the lammasu coolly. ‘I mean to say, why do you humans have to be so preposterously timid, anyway?’ It walks off as proudly as its limp will allow. After some time you decide it’s safe to lower yourself to the ground and go on. Turn to 3.

36: You empty the ashes into the ‘hole’ and, with a sound very like a cough, it spits you out into the open. Luckily the hailstorm has now passed. Turn to 27.

37: You clamber through the bedroom window and escape into the night. You trek for several miles with only the wan moonlight to guide you. When you stop to check your belongings, you are distressed to find that you left behind half your cash in the hurry to get away. Deduct this from the gold on your Character Sheet. Cold, tired and impoverished you drift into a restless slumber and awake early the next morning. Turn to 68.

38: On a plinth in front of the idol, which depicts the god Lurga during his thirty-seventh Tribulation, you find a vase containing fresh flowers. You should note these down on your Adventure Record if you decide to take them. Will you now carry on towards the Mungo Hills (turn to 71), place an offering of gold on the plinth (turn to 48), or investigate further (turn to 24)?

39: You reach into the silvery glow and take the urn. Peeking within, you see that it contains a handful of ashes. You put the urn in your backpack and set off again. Turn to 71.

40: Norwena runs off shrieking. You roll Gorbran’s body into a ditch – discovering 9 gold pieces in his belt-pouch in the process – and continue on your way. Turn to 66.

41: You continue on for some time, but you still do not seem to be getting any closer to your objective. Perhaps the crystal ball will prove of use now? You take it from your backpack. Turn to 98.

42: You set out at a brisk pace and soon leave the fields and meadows around the town far behind. After some time you come to a river and, seeing a bridge only a few hundred yards away, you walk along the bank to it. As you ,are about to cross the bridge, however, a tall slender man in grey robes appears from under the arch of the bridge and calls up to you that you must pay a toll of 4 gold pieces to cross here. Will you pay him the money (turn to 52), or will you ignore him and cross anyway (turn to 62)?

43: A small band of robbers has attacked a group of travellers. Two guards lie dead in the road and a third is battling against impossible odds to prevent the robbers from getting at the palanquin he was accompanying. You see an old man with a staff cowering beside the palanquin. Will you:
Help the guard and the old man? (turn to 45)
Help the robbers? (turn to 29)
Avoid getting involved at all? (turn to 63)

44: The lammasu swipes at you as you turn to flee. Roll one die to determine the damage done by its raking claws. Your armour protects you from this as usual. If you are still alive, you run off. For some reason the lammasu does not pursue you. Turn to 3.

45: If you have a Potion of Dazzling Speed, there is time to drink it now before you engage the robbers. Considering the odds you face, it may well be a good idea – but of course, perhaps you’d rather save it for when you face the demon... Decide, and then turn to 14.

46: You awaken with a start, instantly aware of danger. You hurl yourself to one side just as an axe crashes down. A fraction slower and your head would have been split like firewood! You find your sword. Facing you in the half-light is Garl, wielding the massive axe as though it were a toothpick. You have removed much of your armour in order to sleep more comfortably – it will only absorb 1 point of damage from Garl’s blows in this fight. Turn to 64.

47: You hastily nock an arrow onto your bow and take aim at the retreating chonchon leader. To hit it, you must roll your Fighting Prowess or less on two dice. You have one chance to do this before the chonchon is out of range. If you hit, turn to 12. If you miss, turn to 41.

48: Deduct the amount you decide to leave from your current gold. You utter a short prayer to Lurga in which you compare your current adventure to his ninth Tribulation. There is no response from the god. Will you now carry on towards the hills (turn to 71), or investigate further (turn to 24)?

49: As you step towards the urn, a shower of glittering particles forms a cloud in front of you. This rapidly coalesces to form a warrior in shining white armour who advances to attack you.

ANGEL KNIGHT: Fighting Prowess: 7, Constitution: 11; 2-point armour.

If you beat him, he vanishes like mist. Turn to 39.

50: The robbers quickly give up the chase and go back to loot their victims. You press on briskly towards the setting sun, determined to put several miles between you and the robbers. Turn to 66.

51: You drop your remaining supply of the Salve into the ’hole’, which is unimpressed by the substance’s foul taste and hurriedly spits you out into the open air. The hailstorm has now passed. Turn to 27.

52: You throw the four coins down to him and he pockets them. You can now continue on your way (turn to 70) or ask him if he knows where you can get the last two items you need (turn to 31).

53: As you open your backpack, a thick bank of fog engulfs you, obscuring your vision for a moment. When you look into the pack, you find that the items you have collected to deal with the demon have gone! What will you do now: go back and tell Hogron that the mists stole your equipment (turn to 80) or walk on (turn to 88)?

54: The girl throws up her arms to the heavens with a howling scream. The skies answer with a thunderous rumble, and you see lightning flash between the clouds. Seeing the power of her prayer, the robbers turn and flee. She goes over to the old man and obviously finds he is still alive, for she revives him with a simple healing spell. They come over to you and the girl tells you that her name is Norwena and the old man is Gorbran. They and their guards were on their way to the convent of the Sisters of Pure Adoration when the bandits attacked. Since they now lack guards, you agree to escort them – Norwena admits that her prayer-magic looks more impressive than it actually is, and a skilled swordsman might come in handy. Turn to 61.

55: As you walk on, a few tendrils of mist return to swirl about you. You do not mind now. The mist is like an old travelling companion. Then, in the distance, you see the Castle of Lost Souls. It cannot be more than a few miles away. However, when you look up again after going only a few hundred yards, you find that the castle is no longer straight ahead of you. You walk towards it for almost an hour, keeping your eyes on it the whole time, but you do not seem to be getting any closer. Presumably the demon Slank has set enchantments around his castle to keep unwelcome visitors away, so what will you do now? You could just continue marching towards the castle, keeping your eyes on it continually so it does not change location again – turn to 11. Or you could use an item from your backpack – turn to 72. If you would like to try something else, turn to 83.

56: You are in a sacred place. The gods look into your heart and see your past actions. If your Honour is 7 or more, turn to 39. If your Honour lies between 1 and 6, turn to 49. If you have no Honour, turn to 28.

57: Since Norwena must have her head shaved anyway when she joins the Order, the Mother Superior is happy to give you a long, black strand of hair. You put this in your backpack and continue your journey westwards. Turn to 75.

58: You ransack his home in search of treasure he may have looted from travellers. You find a Potion of Healing, a Ring of Light and 4 gold pieces. Under the floorboards you are also revolted to discover human bones from over thirty bodies, neatly arranged in boxes with notes on the quality of the meal each person provided. You pass the rest of the night in a fitful sleep full of harrowing nightmares and depart this dreadful place before the sun is up. Turn to 68.

59. You walk over to where the chonchon leader has fallen. The arrow has torn its ear but it is still alive and thrashing. You grind it into the mud with your boot. Noticing a gold ring through its left ear, you take out your dagger and cut this free. The ring is large enough to fit around your wrist and is in fact a Wristband of Lightning. Note this down on your Character Sheet and turn to 41.

60: ‘Awfully decent of you,’ says the lammasu as you draw the thorn from its paw. ‘Rather embarrassing really – can’t think how I came to tread on the damned thing. If you’re heading west let me give you some advice. There are two tribes of goblins in these hills, the Drans and the Kabbagoos. You can never tell the difference between them because they mix freely and wear the same outlandish clothes. The only thing is that the Drans always tell the truth and the Kabbagoos always lie. I hope that’s of some help to you.’ After thanking you again, the lammasu takes its leave. Gain 1 point of Honour for helping this noble beast. Turn to 3.

61: It occurs to you that if you escort them to the convent, the Sisters will probably
be quite happy to give you a few strands of nun’s hair. If you decide to do this, turn to 69. Of course, if you are the treacherous sort you could just grab the damsel right now and shear her hair off (in which case, turn to 89).

62: With astonishing speed and agility he leaps up and lands on the bridge in front of you. As he does so, he draws a long curved sword from the scabbard slung across his back. ‘The fine for non-payment of the toll is 9 gold pieces,’ he says with a wry smile. ‘And the penalty for non-payment of the fine is...’ He glances significantly at the gleaming blade of his sword. Will you now pay him 9 gold pieces (turn to 87), or do you prefer to fight (turn to 4)?

63: You leave the road and sneak around the commotion. You continue on into the hills. Turn to 66.

64: You realize that Garl is not a human being at all, but a cold-hearted Ogre hungry for your flesh!

OGRE: Fighting Prowess: 6; Constitution: 13; no armour.

Because of his great strength, add 1 point to the die when rolling the damage for his blows. If you beat him, turn to 58.

65: The fourth chonchon, which has been hovering over you watching the fight, now starts to beat its ears furiously and fly off across the marsh. If you defeat any remaining chonchons within two rounds (refer back to 32 if you can’t remember their characteristics) you can try to bring down the escaping leader with an arrow (turn to 47). If the combat goes on for longer than two rounds then the leader is out of bowshot; if you kill or drive off the remaining chonchons after that, turn to 41.

66: Night is closing in as you enter the rolling, dusty landscape of the Mungo Hills. High on a ridge you see a ramshackle hut with a narrow, twisting path leading up to it. You can go and seek shelter for the night at the hut (turn to 23) or else make camp out here in the open (turn to 33).

67: You hold up the ring and cause it to emit a brilliant flash. The marshons clutch at their eyes and fall back whimpering, blinded by the light. They scurry off into the safety of the night. Turn to 78.

68: About mid-morning, you are just passing between two hills when you come face-to-face with a lammasu – a winged lion with an almost human face. However, it makes no immediate move to attack. You recover from your moment of petrifaction and consider your next action. Will you draw your sword and fight it (turn to 8), climb the cliff out of its reach (turn to 19) or wait for it to move (turn to 85)?

69: You escort Gorbran and Norwena safely to the convent. The Sisters of Pure Adoration are very grateful. If you have any wounds, they use their healing magic (restore your Constitution to its Initial score) and if you are subject to a curse they will remove it. They give you a hearty meal and a comfortable bed for the night. In the morning, will you continue on your journey (turn to 75), or will you first ask them for a nun’s hair (turn to 57)?

70: The path up into the Mungo Hills takes you along a valley. As you walk, you notice a stone idol down in the valley. Will you detour to inspect it (turn to 38), or carry on along the path (turn to 71)?

71: You trudge on for many miles. It is late in the afternoon and the sun is dipping towards the rolling Mungo Hills ahead of you. You are just estimating whether you will be into the hills by nightfall when you see a skirmish of some kind some distance away. Will you go closer to investigate (turn to 43), or will you go out of your way to avoid getting involved (turn to 63)?

72: Which of your items will you use? Perhaps the four leaf clover (turn to 92), the little girl’s teardrop (turn to 15) or the gypsy’s crystal ball (turn to 98).

73: The trail takes you down out of the hills. Increase your Initial Cleverness score 1 point. Turn to 2.

74: After two hours or so you are almost nodding off when a slight noise jerks you awake. You creep over to the bedroom door and peer through the keyhole. Garl is moving around laying the table for a meal. After putting out a fork and long sharp knife he comes to your door. You realize he is about to listen at the keyhole, so you pretend to snore. He turns away from the door. Peering out again, you see he is taking a huge axe out of a cupboard! Will you gather your things and make a getaway via the bedroom window (turn to 37), or draw your sword and get ready to fight him if he comes in (turn to 17)?

75: It is a fine morning and you enjoy your walk up into the rolling landscape of the Mungo Hills. After a little while you come to a stream where a burly man sits fishing. Will you greet him (turn to 13), or pass by (turn to 68)?

76: You cannot find any tracks to support your theory. With a shrug you turn away from the idol and press on towards the hills. Turn to 71.

77: You open the phial and tip out the teardrop, but to no effect. You can feel the stinging secretion on the walls eating into your skin. Will you now use the ashes (turn to 36) or the Salve of Healing (turn to 51)?

78: You drift back off to sleep and pass the rest of the night in comfort, apart from the clouds of gnats and the occasional far-off howl of moorland monsters. You wake at dawn. Add 2 points to your Constitution for the rest. You eat a hearty breakfast and then press on deeper into Bosh. Turn to 55.

79: Seeing you defeat four opponents single-handed, the remaining robbers turn tail and flee. Gain 2 points of Honour for your dashing rescue of the damsel who now steps out of the palanquin. Her expression registers a momentary disapproval at your bloodied and travel-soiled appearance. Then she smiles and thanks you for your intervention. The old man gets up, retrieves his staff and walks over to you. You glance at the guard who was valiantly fighting on to protect the palanquin, but you see that the robbers managed to slay him. The old man explains that he is Gorbran, a servant of the Sisters of Pure Adoration. He was escorting the damsel, whose name is Norwena, back to the convent, where she is to be initiated into the holy order. Since they now lack guards for their journey, you can accompany them. Turn to 61.

80: You make your way back up into the Mungo Hills. The two goblins are very amused to see you returning – so much so that one of them declares between giggles that he is a Kabbagoo. You travel on eastwards and, late in the afternoon of the second day, you arrive back at the town. Hogron is furious. He berates you for your incompetence in losing all the items and finally dismisses you. Your reputation in tatters, you gather your belongings and leave town. You have failed.

81: You resist the spell’s effect. Seeing this, the chonchon snarls and starts to fly away. You can try to bring it down with an arrow. Turn to 47.

82: As you go on a soft, low beating comes across the bleak moors. You listen to the sound and it seems to form words – slay, slay, slay...

You look up to see four dark shapes swooping down through the mist towards you. If you have a Potion of Dazzling Speed, there is time to drink it now before you are attacked. Cross it off your Character Sheet if you do. Then turn to 32.

83: You could try heading for the castle by an indirect route, either to the right or left of where it actually seems to be (turn to 7). You could try closing your eyes and heading on blindly in the direction you last saw it (turn to 34). Or you could use an item from your backpack (turn to 72).

84: You proceed along the trail, hoping that you have made the correct choice and that you will soon be in the Swamps of Bosh. Just then, a rumbling comes from below your feet. The ground shakes and great fissures and cracks appear across the path. You fall and are engulfed by scalding steam that issues out of the depths of the earth. You cannot see, and when you try to cry out the steam sears your throat. You have taken the trail leading to Dragonbreath Canyon, but you will never live to reach that terrible place. Your adventure ends here.

85: The lammasu holds up its paw to show you that there is a large thorn stuck right through it. Then, to your amazement, the lammasu speaks: ‘Um, I seem to have this thorn...’ You realize that the poor creature means no harm and decide to help it. Turn to 60.

86: The remaining two robbers let their captives go. The old man starts to hobble away, only to be felled by a throwing knife in the back. The girl drops to her knees, apparently crying. ‘Impressive,’ growls the leader, referring to your swordplay. ‘I’ve seen better,’ replies his equally laconic accomplice.

BLACK RAT: Fighting Prowess: 8; Constitution: 11; 1 -point armour
FAFNIR: Fighting Prowess: 8; Constitution: 13; 1 -point armour

You will have to fight them both at once. If you drank the potion it has now worn off. If you are still alive after two combat rounds, turn to 54.

87: You grudgingly hand him 9 gold pieces. You can now continue on your way (turn to 70) or ask if he knows where you can find the two items you need (turn to 31).

88: You have gone on only about a hundred yards when you suddenly come upon all your missing equipment. It is lying in a neat pile directly in front of you. Delighted at this happy change in your fortune, you gather up the items before continuing on your way with a spring in your step and a merry tune on your lips. Turn to 6.

89: You seize Norwena and draw your sword to cut her long black tresses. Gorbran thinks you are attacking her and jumps on your back. You shake him off, but he hits his head on a rock and lies very still. Norwena starts screaming and you have to hit her quite hard to shut her up. Lose 1 point of Honour. You cut off Norwena’s hair and put it in your backpack with other items. If you consider Gorbran a saint you can also burn him and collect the ashes. Will you now release Norwena (turn to 40) or kill her as well (turn to 20)?

90: The shrine consists simply of a marble dome supported by three thick pillars. Within, on a table of rock, you can see a verdigris-stained urn. As you step between the pillars, a silvery light appears out of nowhere to halo the urn. If you wish to stay, turn to 56. You can flee to the hills, in which case turn to 71.

91: Hovering directly above your head, the fourth chonchon glares down. ‘Nemo me impune lacessit!’ it hisses. It is obvious that it is not wishing you well, because the next moment you feel a hostile spell closing around you. Try to roll your Magical Fortitude or less on two dice. If you succeed, turn to 81. If not, turn to 26.

92: Some people claim that a four leaf clover placed under the tongue prevents one from speaking anything but the truth. But what use is such an old wives’ tale to you now? You replace the clover in your backpack and trudge on in the direction you imagine the castle to be. Turn to 82.

93: You hurl your sword away and the marshons scurry after it. They seize the gleaming object and carry it off. As they recede into the night you can hear their shrill, bubbly voices disputing ownership of this new prize. You are safe, but from now on you will have to use a dagger instead of a sword in combat, so all your damage rolls must be reduced by 1 point. Turn to 78.

94: Just ahead of you, draped over the gnarled branches of a tree, are several strands of long black hair. Could they have belonged to a nun? You could open your backpack (turn to 53), go over to the tree (turn to 16), or ignore it and walk on (turn to 6).

95: As you step past the lammasu’s body, you notice a large thorn stuck right through its paw. Just as well you killed the creature – it was probably in a vile temper and might have attacked someone. Turn to 3.

96: Do you have a Potion of Dazzling Speed? If so, you would be well advised to drink it before attacking the robbers. Remember to cross it off your Character Sheet if you do so. Now turn to 5.

97: You take the rod from him and soon find that you are barely able to hold onto it – the fish is putting up quite a struggle. Soon the big man returns with a net and takes the rod. With a mighty effort he draws up a spined, vicious-looking fish the size of a large dog. ‘Quite a whopper!’ says the man, showing a set of sharp white teeth as he grins. ‘How rare to find a person in these days of selfishness and antagonism who is prepared to lend a hand to a fellow creature! Allow me to offer my Ring of Light as a gift for your magnanimity. Moreover, and as a special favour to you, today I shall dine on fish.’ You are not quite sure what he means, but you take the magical ring and thank him before going on your way. Turn to 68.

98: When you gaze at the castle through the crystal ball, a shimmering path of green light is visible leading through the swamp. Holding the crystal ball in front of you, you make your way along the path. You have been walking for only a few minutes, intent on the ground directly in front of you, when you notice a dark shape looming ahead. You glance up from the crystal ball and almost drop it in shock. You are at the castle gates. A mixture of luck and skill has brought you to the terrible Castle of Lost Souls. You stand where no living person has ever stood. But have you the courage to enter? Find out in the next instalment: ‘The Evil Eye’.

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Greater than mere spells

2011-12-09T01:57:00.000-08:00

One of the problems I have with fantasy as a genre of fiction is that most of the time it's not actually that fantastic, reducing sorcery instead to a sort of dull pseudophysics. I'm not taking a subtler-than-thou position here. I've been guilty of the fireballs and the Boolean divination spells myself. Sometimes you have to, for the sake of having rules, though that's why in my own games there are no player-character wizards - or not so much that you'd notice.

In my novella The Screaming Spectre... No wait, I have to say something about that. It was supposed to be called The Singing Skull, but the publishers overruled me on the title. Just so you know. Anyway, I put in a scene to show what I thought about the "type II fireball" approach to magic, and here it is. Heroquest, the boardgame on which the story was based, is still available, as indeed is the book itself on Amazon UK. Don't care for prose fiction? Well, you may like the 148-paragraph gamebook section in the back. And if you do like it, try comparing it with this passage from one of my Knightmare books that also describes what a sorcerer of the Dragon Warriors world is like.

`You are both too young to remember much about Balthazar,' said Baskaino. 'He was a legendary figure — like one of the great wizards of ancient times.'

`He must have had many powerful spells,' said Kashor, whose thoughts always turned to the lure of great magic when he had to work at his books.

`Of course he did,' said Baskaino. 'Spells you can never imagine. But, Kashor, you understand nothing if you think that is the measure of a wizard.' He put down his pen. 'Listen, then, if you want to learn the ways of magic. One story that was told in my childhood recounted how a plague had settled on the Empire. Whole villages became deserted, and if you walked the streets of any town you could never escape the sound of mourning from behind shuttered windows. Bodies had to be piled on to carts and buried in mass graves, since the plague was vicious and swift. You might see a friend hale and hearty one day, only to be startled by the sight of his lifeless corpse on a burial cart the next day. . .'

By now even Kashor, despite himself, had put aside his pen to listen to Baskaino's tale.

`Balthazar went looking for the plague,' he continued, 'and met it on the road to Borghaven. The plague had taken the form of a little old woman carrying a broom, though of course no-one could see that except a wizard like Balthazar. They walked on for a league or so without exchanging a word, but the plague was curious and finally asked Balthazar where he was bound. "To Borghaven," said he. "I mean to claim many lives there."

`Well, "That you cannot do," complained the plague-spirit. "I have prior claim on those lives . . ." Oh, but this is no doubt just a silly story,' said Baskaino suddenly, turning back to his copybook.

`No, no!' cried Osric and Kashor together. 'Do go on.'

Baskaino shrugged indulgently. 'Well, the upshot of it was that Balthazar challenged the old plague-hag to a dice game. She readily agreed, and the two of them hunkered down in the middle of the road over the dice she had — two yellow dice carved from dead men's knuckles. "If you win," said Balthazar, "we'll agree that you go on to Borghaven and beyond. But if you lose, you must go back to the land of the dead and never again visit the world of mortal men." The hag nodded, and then they threw the dice…'

`And Balthazar won?' said Kashor in an awed tone.

`No, he lost. So they walked on again towards the town. But after another league or so had gone by, the plague could not restrain her curiosity and she said, "You must have claimed many souls in your time."

`At this Balthazar only shrugged, smiling as though modesty forbade a reply. The plague licked her bloodless lips with a bloodless tongue and doubtless thought, why take the long walk to Borghaven when she could feast on one who had in turn (as she supposed it) feasted full on mortal souls? Another league passed, then Balthazar said, "I might consider another wager, for it is fine sport. Let us dice again. This time, if I win you must go and never return, just as before. But if you win, you may have the life that beats here . . ." Balthazar touched his heart . . . "but then you must be gone from the mortal world."

`The plague readily agreed to this, since she now believed that Balthazar's one life would sustain her more than a thousand paltry normal souls. So she took out her dice and again they rolled.'

`And this time Balthazar won?' said Kashor.

`Of course not!' said Baskaino scornfully. 'This was Death whom he diced with. So when the dice were cast, the plague-spirit took Balthazar and led him away to the end of the world and then said, "Now I leave this world never to return, but first I shall have your life." And she raised her broom whose touch was death.

`But instead of flinching, Balthazar only stood there and said: "Our pact was that you would have the life that beats here . . ." So saying, he opened the front of his robe and took out a tiny mouse that had been nestled against his chest, asleep. This he gave to the plague. She uttered none of the hideous curses that a mortal might when thwarted, but just gave a sort of sigh and then drew back out of the land of the living. And so Balthazar drove away the plague.'

`But how did he know he'd lose the dice games?' Kashor wanted to know. 'Both times? And how did he know to have the mouse under his robe?'

`He knew,' replied Baskaino with a condescending smile. 'That was how great a wizard he was. Great enough to cheat Death.'

`But he didn't even use a spell!' Kashor blurted.

`Pah, you fool!' replied Baskaino in a voice dripping with contempt.

Kashor turned to Osric for support, but Osric could only shrug and say, 'What spell could you use against Death, after all?'

"I began the creation of a human being..."

2011-12-04T00:58:00.000-08:00

The cat's out of the bag - or, more appositely, the brain's out of the jar. Profile Books just announced that the gamebook Jamie and I are writing for them is Frankenstein. Yep, Mary Shelley's classic novel vandalized into what-next form by yours truly.

Some of you already guessed this news a while back, though I'm willing to bet the finished book won't be anything like you expect. Our official announcement gives some kind of an idea what's in store:

"Maybe you remember gamebooks or choose-your-own novels, but if so put those right out of your mind. Frankenstein is way more than that. It's an art installation made up of story fragments, where the reader can explore the text, creating a unique and personal experience of this rightly world-famous work and developing a direct relationship with the main characters. That's why we're describing it as interactive literature. It's a truly new kind of novel for the digital age."

What Jamie and I are aiming for is a gamebook that even non-gamers can enjoy, in the same way that plenty of non-SF fans are happy to read Mary Shelley's original book in spite of it being most definitely a science fiction novel - and probably the first such, although if you know of an earlier one, shout it out. Traditionally, mainstream readers have been very dismissive of things like comics and gamebooks. That's a very lazy prejudice (as most prejudices are) so that's one of the attitudes we're hoping to change a little bit with this book.

The engine that's powering this project is by Cambridge-based app developers Inkle Studios, smartest mammals in the new digital book ecosystem by a long way. We're hoping to do more with them and Profile Books in the future. A whole lot more. You'll read it here first.

Dirty linen

2011-11-30T05:42:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of intrepid explorers from Lewis and Clark to Henry Morton Stanley, lately I’ve been delving into that most alarming and hard-to-penetrate of realms, the past. And, sparing no blushes, I’ve unearthed this fragment from the back of my first published work, Mortal Combat, written with Steve Foster and published by Waynflete House, the company I set up with Nick Henfrey in 1979.

The Crypt of Lieberkuen really is a “dungeon bash” of the crudest sort. As my own games almost never involve dungeons, and certainly never of the random monsters-n-puzzles variety, it’s a little surprising to find something like this even among my juvenilia. I think the explanation must be along these lines:

Nick: “You’ll have to put in an adventure. People expect it these days in a new role-playing game.”
Dave: “That’s a whole other book. I’d have to explain the background, the politics, all that stuff.”
Nick: “Seeing as it goes to the printers next week, can’t you just do an underworld? You know, like the scenarios in White Dwarf.”
Dave: [sighs, grumbles, starts typing]

The scenario, such as it is, might best be consigned to the flames, but for a couple of points of mild interest. Anvil, the wizard mentioned here, was the character played by Mark “Min” Smith (below, looking ridiculously young) in my and Steve’s Empire of the Petal Throne campaign. The inspiration (if we can use that term) for the name came from the crypts of Lieberkühn, another name for certain intestinal glands. And – but no, that’s all.

Mortal Combat itself was an excellent game (largely the work of Steve Foster, not me) and it brought us to the attention of Ian Livingstone and Steve Jackson at Games Workshop, who commissioned us to design an RPG called Adventure. So I was about to say there’s the silver lining, but come to think of it, we were never paid a penny and, just as Adventure was finished, GW got the UK RuneQuest licence so they didn’t need a role-playing game of their own. So let’s put this back in its box and never mention it again. I can only plead in my defence, M'lud, that I atoned for these early sins against creativity six years later by designing Dragon Warriors.

If you are looking for a good dungeon-type adventure, let me refer you back one year to Steve Foster's superb seasonal Legend scenario "Freeze Thy Blood Less Coldly". Yes, it's that time of the year again - nearly. Yo ho argh.

THE CRYPT OF LIEBERKUEN (scenario for Mortal Combat)

Background notes on the adventure:

While drinking in a tavern, the players learn of the knight Lieberkuen, an honourable & powerful nobleman who died a hundred years ago and whose wife, Karen (a great sorceress) had built for him a grand tomb with many treasures. She also stocked it with magical guardians of various kinds, to test the mettle and ingenuity of any trying to infiltrate the tomb.

Upon travelling to the tomb (a burial mound out on the moors), they discover the entrance and steps leading down deep into the ground...

Note that in a ten foot wide passageway, characters can fight two abreast, but greater crowding than this makes combat very difficult. Magicians casting spells can stand three abreast. A torch or lantern is needed per group of four people exploring unlit places. Torches burn for one hour; lanterns require refuelling. Torchlight has a range of no more than thirty feet, and counts as "poor light" for missile use (Section 3.093). Doors are usually five feet wide and made of wood banded with metal, or sometimes wholly of metal. If bolted or barred, they may take several kicks to break in (or even several axe-blows), and this alerts beings in the room beyond. Remember to take such things as the position of open doors, direction of spiral stairways, etc, into account during combat. During exploration of some fortress or tomb-complex, characters are assumed to move cautiously, and hence movement is reduced by 25 percent.

1. A stone blocking passage. Will take three men with picks an hour to break it up, assuming average strength. However, if players think to look, they will find a hidden lever which raises it into the tunnel roof.

2. Empty room lit by magical braziers which burn continually; if touched, the braziers flare up to attack the person doing this (treat as Flaming Hand spell). On the wall is this inscription:

The Crypt of Lieberkuen. Take both doors or neither.

Remember that only characters of Learning greater than 12 can read.

3. A Grave Gaunt. If the players get the significance of the inscription in room 2, they will split the party and the others will go around to attack the creature from behind. The Grave Gaunt is using a magic sword (+1).

4. Room with marble floor and velvet tapestries along the east and west walls. The room is lit by torches on the walls. At the table in the middle sits an old man flanked by two warriors. (The old man is A 0, D 0; 7 hp; 1st rank fighter-equivalent; no armour or weapons. The warriors are A 5, D 8; 12 hp; 1st rank fighters; chain-mail, shields, swords.)

The old man says to the characters: "If you wish to gamble, you may. Otherwise leave." He takes out three cups and a gem of obvious value, and places the gem under one of the cups. Those players not wishing to gamble may go through the south door. Although he has no real powers, the old man has an aura of tremendous power and authority.

He explains the deal. He will move the cups around. If the players can guess which cup the gem is under, they get it (it's worth 200 crowns); if not, he takes an item from them – probably a weapon. He will use sleight-of-hand to cheat, and only players of intelligence 15 up will spot this. (They can always attack him, of course. If willing to gamble at all, why not gamble on him being powerless?)

5. The old man's treasure-room (entrance hidden behind tapestries). Contains: 45 crowns, 200 florins, 3 nonmagical shortswords, a flask containing one draught of the Elixir of Bramullin, and an Amulet of Fidelity disguised to look like a Talisman of Norfengu - anyone putting it on after the death of the old man (the owner) will be both the new owner and the victim of the amulet, and thus will be reduced to a mindless automaton until the amulet is removed.

6. Room with three doors, of (looking from east to west) gold, silver and lead. Before the doors floats a ghostly figure which says: "There is a statement on each door, but only one is correct. One at a time, you must choose which door to go through."

The Ghost was a rank 7 fighter in life (A 10, D 12; 14 hp; sword), and if the players try to confer, it will first caution them, and then attack.

The inscriptions are:

GOLD door-- Your goal lies through this door.
SILVER door--Your goal does not lie through this door
LEAD door-- Your goal does not lie beyond the gold door

The Ghost will read these aloud for illiterate characters. The players should pass thru the central, silver door; the others each lead to a Gorgon!

7. Here the players will meet the magician Anvil, coming from the west tunnel. He is short (5' 2" tall) and powerfully built (Strength 19: damage bonus of +6), of 8th rank with A 13, D 13; 17 health points; chainmail, great helm, morning star, crossbow. He has Reaction Speed 15, Intelligence 13, Talent 15; 82 spellpoints; +2 on Physical and Evasion Saving Throws. He wears robes of black velvet, his helmet is silvered, and he has a potion (Essence of Air) in a flask at his belt. He will join a party rather than attack, but he is an untrustworthy ally and may turn on them later.

8. Empty room, except for the body of a goblin which burrowed in from elsewhere and was slain by Anvil.

9. An altar to the patron god (actually a minor demon) of the tomb, covered with treasure. There are 100 crowns, 300 florins, 2 gems, 6 items of jewellery and a scroll of type 6. If any of this is touched, the two giant urns (in the north-west and south-west corners, on either side of the door) burst open and a Revenant (fighter variety) steps from each. They will attack any attempting to steal the treasure.

10. At this intersection, a single torch burns in a bracket on the wall. By it lie 3 dead men, slain by arrows. (See 11.)

11. A party of two bowmen. They have left the torch at the intersection (10) and wait until characters step into the passageway to begin shooting. Since they have no lighted torches with them, return shots are unlikely to hit. Note that the range of torchlight is thirty feet, and they will wait until the players are this far from the torch on the wall before they begin to shoot. (The intelligent thing for the players to do, of course, is remove the torch from the bracket and take it with them.)

The bowmen are 3rd rank; A 7, D 7; 13 health points; hardened leather armour, long bows, swords, shields. One is a sorcerer (Intelligence 16; 15 spellpoints).

12. An iron key, suspended by three thin cords, hangs from the ceiling of this chamber. The key cannot be reached directly, as a sheet of unbreakable glass is interposed just above head height. The cords pass through hooks on the ceiling and down through tiny holes in the glass to empty suits of armour (in the north, south-west and south-east), to which they are tied. The key hangs above another hole, centrally located and just large enough for it to fall through. The locked door in the south has a prominent keyhole.

If an attempt is made to synchronize the cutting of the cords – which are quite thin – it will fail, and the key will swing to one side and fall onto the glass. The best course of action is to untie the cords and steadily lower the key through the hole.

13. The Crypt of Lieberkuen. In an open sarcophagus lies the remarkably well-preserved body of the knight Lieberkuen. He appears to be asleep rather than dead, but his heart is not beating and his body is cold. He wears full battle regalia: chainmail armour (including chainmail helmet) with white surcoat, and magical shield and sword (both +1). Over his form lies a white shroud with runes sewn into it in gold thread.

Anyone donning the shroud will begin to sink into the floor at the rate of three feet per round. If an attempt is made to grab him, he will be found to be intangible. If he removes the shroud, he will solidify in the floor and die. He will continue to sink down for a minute (thirty feet), and then emerge into a second chamber below the first, whereupon he may safely remove the shroud. (Note that the others will remain unaware of what is befalling him; the umpire should send them into another room while he explains the following to the player concerned.)

The chamber in which the player finds himself is unlit. Wan light can be seen from a tunnel to the south. If he follows this, the player will come to another room, where a ghost with the appearance of Lieberkuen confronts him, saying, "You show a bravery I admire, and I reward you with the gift of my earthly prison. Throw yourself into yon pool; no harm will befall you."

If the player jumps into the pool that the ghost indicates, he will find his soul transferred to Lieberkuen's body in the crypt above. He retains his own Reaction Speed, Intelligence, Learning and Talent; but his other characteristics become those of Lieberkuen's body: Strength, Constitution and Looks of 18 (health points thus 27) and all other characteristics of 14.

The other players should be called back in at this point and told that the body is climbing from its sarcophagus. However, it will take 1-3 rounds for the player who has undergone the metempsychosis to gain sufficient control of his new body to speak. If the players panic, they may attack and kill him before he can tell them of their mistake! (If the player concerned is wise, he will lie motionless in the sarcophagus at first, so as not to surprise his companions into such rash action. Note that if the players destroyed Lieberkuen's body before the soul transfer, then the unfortunate fellow who donned the shroud can only appeal to the Gods for help.)

A-hunting we will go

2011-11-24T16:01:00.000-08:00

Back around the start of the year, we ran the news that the Dragon Warriors licence has been picked up by Serpent King Games. If you're a Legend fan, you've no doubt been waiting impatiently for more DW books and, although it all seemed to have gone quiet for a while, I can assure you that the SKG team have been smelting up a smokin' hoard of real Nibelung gold, metaphorically speaking, in the form of an all-new and frankly rather sensational DW Players Book.

The Players Book isn't quite ready for release, but SKG this week offered a little taste in the form of the new Hunter character class, which you can download from their site. He (or she) is a little bit Hooded Man, a little bit Nasir, a little bit Strider and a dash of Legolas too:

All cultures of Legend have Hunters of one sort another. Whether authorized by law, or working as poachers, Hunters stalk the wilderness for sustenance. The wild places of the world are their homes, whether forest, mountain, desert, tundra or any other climate. The Hunter excels at not only surviving in such inhospitable terrain, but in using the terrain itself as a weapon. Most Hunters are content to eke out a living for themselves, their family, or their community. Other Hunters find themselves in the employ of local lords, keeping their domains safe from poachers and assassins. Still others become thrall to the lure of adventure, using their skills for personal gain with a group of roaming vagabonds. Hunters may be found throughout the lands of Legend, even at the highest levels of society. While many nobles are trained as Knights, others excel in the skills of the hunt.

Hunters get tracking and special bow techniques, as well as stealth, traps, sneak attacks, and mastery of terrain. And at higher levels they can whip up a bunch of arrows that Hawkeye would envy. They'll make for interesting PCs and the write-up shows how SKG are fleshing out the reality of Legend with a whole range of new professions and skills that will all be there in the Players Book. Not too long now, hopefully.

A minotaur ate my saveloy

2011-11-20T00:44:00.000-08:00

While setting up the Binscombe Tales books for Spark Furnace (Fabled Lands LLP's book imprint) I hatched a plan to turn my Royal Mythological Society stories into a little paperback using the same print-on-demand company, Lightning Source.

"What a perfect stocking filler for Christmas," said a voice on one shoulder. I've always been a bit hard of hearing on the nay-saying side, so I didn't catch what objection the other shoulder might raise. Hence the book is out this month on Amazon US, Barnes & Noble, Amazon UK and the Book Depository. The stocking itself is optional, but if you know anyone who likes fantasy/SF with a whimsical flavour, it's the perfect gift. Of course, I would say that.

Jamie has written a few RMS stories himself. Well, he's written the first part (that is, the letter which introduces each of the yarns) and when I get to rounding those off with Dr Clattercut's and Prof Bromfield's replies, I'll put them in the next edition. Here's a nice one of Jamie's that I'd completely forgotten about until he reminded me - a snippet with a pleasingly Dirk-like tone:

Effendis, peace be upon you,

Greetings from Ottoman Syria. I am privileged and honoured to have been made a minister by the Regency Council and put in charge of many building projects.

Recently, whilst digging the foundations of a new underground sewer system one of my workmen uncovered a curious copper jar, the lid of which appeared to be a complex clay seal. Being only an ignorant unlettered peasant, the unworthy workmen thought to open the jar, no doubt hoping to uncover gold or gems or some other great treasure but as soon as he picked it up the jar emitted a terrifying shriek. The poor workman fell dead instantly at the sound. Since then, I have taken charge of the jar. Our wisemen, scholars and philosophers are examining it. Some say the clay stopper is one of the Seals of Solomon, used to imprison demons and suchlike and must not be opened. Others say a djinn lies trapped inside. Free it and it will grant me three wishes. Still others say it is just an old jar from the days of the 9th century Caliph, Haroun al Rashid and should be put in a museum and treated like any other archaelogical find, and that the workman just happened to suffer a heart attack co-incidentally. What do you think?

Ibrahim Ismail Pasha
Public Works
Damascus

The above letter is followed a few days later by this:

Effendis,

There is no need to continue with your investigations into the copper jar. The seal is broken. And... I AM FREE! FREE AT LAST AFTER ELEVEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN YEARS!!!! Nor need Ibrahim Pasha trouble your thoughts anymore. He will not be replying to any correspondence in the near future. It is hard to write a letter from the inside of a small copper jar after all. And I should know, let me tell you!

Zalam the Afrit

P.S. Your Society is of interest to me. It may be that I shall come and pay you a visit.

That's one of Jamie's pastiches, but you can also read some of the pieces that are in the actual book if you've a yen to. Previously in these pages we've told the story of how Dr Clattercut was kicked while collecting trilobytes, how a ship's captain found an Atlantean relic, how Merlin is modernizing the sleeping knights, a horticultural example of the pathetic fallacy in action, a cautionary tale not to treat unicorns as cuddly, the political manifesto of a Martian warlord, and a curious incident involving two disembodied feet. So all that should tell you if A Minotaur at the Savoy is your cup of tea, eh what?

A dream to some, a Knightmare to others

2011-11-15T00:03:00.000-08:00

Tim Child was a visionary. That’s not unknown among television producers, but what strikes me as rarer is that he was – and is – an innovator. And one with some powers of persuasion, to boot, because he somehow talked the powers that be at Anglia TV into letting him put out a Dungeons-&-Dragons inspired game show in the prime kids’ teatime slot. And it ran for eight seasons. That was Knightmare.

I wasn’t involved in the TV production, but I always enjoyed meeting Tim and taking a look around the studios. I’d been called in to polish a novel of his designed to add backstory to the show. I ended up rewriting quite a bit, though most of the ideas were Tim’s. The only problem, really, was that he’d written it like a TV script, with lots of cross-cutting between scenes that prose doesn’t handle well.

As well as the novel, I added a 105-section gamebook-style adventure. Each year after that, Tim and Transworld (the publishers) came back and got me to do another. From now on I was left entirely to my own devices as regards both the novel and the gamebook part, so I guess they trusted me. All the editors ever asked to know in advance was the title for each book. That's a great way for an author to work!

The first few were drawn from my Dragon Warriors adventures in large part, though relocated in early 13th century Europe. In The Labyrinths of Fear, the hero Treguard got embroiled in a tourney, lost in the wildwood, and encountered the king of the elves – who was freakin’ terrifying, let me tell you. There's a funny story about that and recreational drugs that - hmm, no, better keep it to myself. I didn't inhale, let's leave it at that.

In Fortress of Assassins, which I co-wrote with Oliver Johnson, Treguard went looking for the lost heir of Richard the Lionheart. And his fourth and last outing in an historical adventure setting was The Sorcerer’s Isle, wherein he faced a quest for the Grail in the company of a resurrected Sir Lancelot. Maybe the Grail, maybe Lancelot... you'll get no spoilers here, not even two decades on.

After that the publishers asked me to take the books younger, which meant giving Treguard a back seat, moving the action to present day, and making the protagonists kids. Despite what you may think, The Forbidden Gate was my favorite in the series. I felt I channeled a little bit of Alan Garner and a dash of John Masefield. Enough to satisfy me, anyway. And David Learner, one of the actors on the show, turned it into a stage play. The children who came to see it will be in their thirties now. And that’s scarier than anything in the Knightmare dungeon.

I can give you only this little taste, which comes from Fortress of Assassins. Copyright in the text (both novels and gamebook sections) is not mine but resides with the publishers and Tim Child, so if you find any ripped PDFs online be aware that those are stolen content that is being distributed illegally. (As a working author, you see I have little sympathy with the "but I want it" argument. If an author chooses to give away something for free, like the Tetsubo or Heart of Ice PDFs offered on this blog, that's up to them. It's still their copyright and it doesn't mean just anyone can give it away.)

Tim Child’s daughter once suggested publishing an omnibus volume collecting all the stories together, but nothing ever came of that – and, now that the show is receding into the mists of time, I doubt it ever will. A Kindle edition might be feasible, but you’d have to write to Transworld about that.

PROLOGUE
The Syrian Desert, AD 1212

The caravan hurrying through the low dunes was not the usual assortment of merchants and pilgrims journeying between Hamadan and Aleppo. For one thing, there were but six people in the entourage and only eight camels – a far smaller party than would usually brave the threatening wastes of the desert, infested as it was with brigands and predatory animals. And it seemed that the party was trying to he as inconspicuous as possible. There were none of the usual gay trappings of bells and colored tassels hanging from the camels' saddles. The bales of silk and silver that they had borne from Hamadan were swathed in a dull, dun-colored cloth. So also were the merchants themselves, as though they preferred to blend against the background of rolling dunes all about them.

The caravan was in a hurry – that much could be seen from the sand kicked up in their wake and the sweat-streaked, dusty faces of the men. At intervals two of the men would stop to cast anxious glances back in the direction they had come. The scene behind them was one to frighten the most hardened of desert travelers: a purple-black cloud, spinning dust devils marking its inexorable progress over the yellow dunes, was bearing down on them from the east. This would have been cause enough for alarm – caravans much larger than this one had been lost forever in such a sandstorm – but it was not the impending storm that filled the men's hearts with dread.

The two who kept stopping to look back were brothers, merchants of Venice – by the look of them too elderly and comfortable to undertake such a journey unless it promised great rewards. Their guards, grim-faced Frankish veterans, were armed with winch crossbows and swords of tempered Toledo steel. They walked with blades bared, anticipating danger.

Over the course of the day, first one and then the others had thought to see a black-garbed figure walking steadfastly in pursuit of them on the very fringe of the dust storm. It had seemed like some unstoppable creature out of Hell. Now, as the sun sank lower in the sky, the shadows at the centre of the storm grew more impenetrable and wind whipped at their cloaks. The storm was upon them.

'Santino,' cried one of the merchants in a voice edged with fear, 'we must abandon it! What are two hundred ducats compared to our lives?'

'Have you so readily forgotten the precepts of our father?' the other jeered back at him, fearless and indomitable where his brother trembled with fear. 'Never surrender what is rightfully yours – those were his words, Giacommo. Even in these heathen lands, the law of possession must hold. I paid a fair price for the thing and it is ours.'

Just as these words were out of his mouth, a searing blast of hot air struck them as if a furnace door had opened in the east. A wall of stinging sand flew into their faces. They hunched down and struggled through the cauldron of dust towards the fast-disappearing rumps of the camels.

'Close up!' the elder brother, Santino, yelled to their guards. Faint answering cries came back to them through the howling storm. Presently they saw three of the guards urging the camels back against the brutal strength of the wind. Of the fourth guard there was no sign.

'By San Rocco, where's Barthelemeo?' hollered one of the guards. 'He'll be lost – we must follow him! Barthelemeo!'

'Don't be a fool. It would be the end for us all if we did that.' Santino, was still ice cool despite the danger.

A faint answering cry came out of the swirling dust ahead. Before the others could stop him, the man who had called out blundered off into the storm, his cloak snapping about him until he was lost to view. A heart-stopping scream followed a few seconds later. The remaining four stood transfixed, nerveless hands clutching at their weapons. They backed away together, their eyes desperately seeking for signs of attack.

'Over there!' another guard screamed. They all whirled to face in the direction of his shaking crossbow. A shadowy form was materializing with faltering steps out of the storm. It was Barthelemeo, the hood of his desert cloak swept back so they could recognize his ashen face. A gush of bright blood covered the front of his chest, and a bubble of it formed on his lips as he tried to speak. No sound came above the shriek of the wind. Instead he pitched forward at their feet. Now they could see that the man's throat had been cut from ear to ear. He was still trying to say something. The younger of the brothers leaned down. He could just make out what Barthelemeo was saying: 'Master, beware… he is like the desert wind… I never saw him.' The guard twitched once, then lay still.

Giacommo got to his feet hastily. Just as he did, another of the guards gave a cry, his crossbow discharging harmlessly into the air. A jagged black throwing knife protruded from his neck, just under the ear. Even before his dead body pitched forward into the sand, Santino had drawn his sword and launched himself in the direction of the attack.

It was his last living action. As if wielded by an invisible attacker, a scimitar flashed out of the stinging wall of sand, severing his head from his body with one blow. Giacommo stood transfixed as the head rolled across the sand towards him, leaving a crescent-shaped trail of blood behind it. It came to rest against his foot. Santino's eyes stared up at him with the same cold imperious glare they had possessed in life. Giacommo slowly dragged his gaze up from his brother's head, his sword dangling uselessly by his side. He was not surprised to see that, somehow, the fourth of their guards had now joined the others in death. He had not even seen the blow that had opened up his rib cage so neatly that his vital organs had fallen to the ground between his feet. Giacommo heard a whimper of fear; it came from his own throat.

Suddenly the wind dropped, leaving a hollow silence. The swirling dust clouds drove off to the west in the direction of the setting sun, casting an eerie purple shadow over the scene of carnage. Giacommo hardly noticed the storm's passing. All his attention was focused on the figure who stood in front of him — a tall warrior clad from head to foot in the black robes of the Hashishin - the Assassins. The scimitar that had beheaded Santino still swung from one hand, its sharp blade caked with dust and blood.

`Saints . . .' moaned Giacommo. His hand brought his sword up in a hopeless gesture, but he lowered it again under the scrutiny of the assassin's eyes. Partially veiled by the swathes of the burnoose, they were of the deepest blue that Giacommo had ever seen; even the waters of the Venetian lagoon could not compare to their oceanic depths. In the face of that cold gaze, his resolve melted. The sword fell from his fingers and he sank to his knees on the sand.

He sensed the black-clad figure walking closer… and past him. Giacommo stared up, slack-jawed. He had expected to die. The figure stood silhouetted against the sullen glow of the sun as it sank beyond the westward-driving storm. With superhuman strength, the assassin flung aside the boxes and saddle-bags that had been slung over the camels. With a savage downward sweep of the scimitar, the brass binding of a chest was smashed open and delicately embroidered Chinese silks spilt out. These the assassin tossed into the evening breeze like so many worthless rags.

Giacommo knew what it was that the stranger sought. 'There,' he pleaded, pointing to one of the camels. 'Take it; only let me live.'

Striding over to the bundle he had indicated, the assassin tore it down and unfurled the cloth wrapping. A sword lay revealed – a sword whose blade shone with the white light of heaven. A black-gloved hand reverently took up the sword and raised it aloft, holding its hilt up to the sunset. For the last time, Giacommo saw the delicately worked hilt: a lion's head of gold with two amethysts for eyes. They blazed as if on fire in the orange glow.

At last the assassin uttered a sound. It was a feral cry that rang out across the sands like the call of a jackal. Then, uttering a low laugh of triumph, the assassin pulled aside the black veil. As Giacommo slipped into grateful unconsciousness, the sight of the assassin's face lingered in his mind like a brand that had been burned on to his eyes. He would remember that face to his dying day.

The assassin was a woman...

Out in the dark there burns a dream

2011-11-10T00:07:00.001-08:00

There isn't nearly enough seafaring in fantasy RPGs and gamebooks, considering that tales of intrepid mariners facing a rapid succession of weird and wondrous adventures has been a staple of storytelling since Homer first banged his stick on the floor and told everybody to draw up a chair. Conan and Elric have done their share of nautical adventuring, following in the footsteps - well, the foamy wake - of Sindbad and Ulysses, and we have our modern equivalents in the voyages of the Enterprise, the Marathon and Farscape's Moya.

All of which is mere preamble to the main purpose of this post, which is to give a yo-ho hearty shout-out to Andrew Wright, whose gamebook adventure Sea of Madness just won the 2011 Windhammer Prize. He needs no introduction around these parts, of course, as he is editorial consultant on the Fabled Lands RPG, runs an excellent blog Fantasy Gamebook, and is author of Tin Man Games's Catacombs of the Undercity. Nobody could have deserved the prize more. Well done, Andy!

With its wide-ranging sandboxy structure, Sea of Madness is sure to appeal to Fabled Lands players and you can download it here. And, if your ears can stand it, here's the theme tune. Also be sure to take a look at previous Windhammer winners, including The Bone Dogs by Per Jorner, Al Sander's Raid on Château Fekenstein, and Stuart Lloyd's Sharkbait's Revenge - the last of which offers up lashings of piratical adventure on the high seas, bringing us full circle.

Blood, fire and iron

2011-11-05T01:01:00.000-07:00

Alan Craddock is nowadays probably best known for his amazing coloring work on the Doctor Who comic, but back in the dim and distant he was famous among fantasy gamers as one of White Dwarf's top cover artists. Buxom girls in mithril thongs grappled with sweaty demons, and adolescent lads reached into their pockets every month for - no, titter ye not; for 85p, I was going to say.

Alan was Oliver's and my first and only choice to paint the covers of the Dragon Warriors paperbacks. As our customers for that series spread a little younger than the WD readership, the art director probably requested fewer girls and more clothing. The only buttocks on show, in fact, belonged to a Trojan-style warrior fighting a centaur on the cover of book 6.

Here is Alan's first pencil rough of the painting for book 1. It's on tracing paper and I can pretty much guarantee it has never been published before as I only just came across it while turning out my attic. Or cleaning the Augean stables; one of the two. You can see the Thor-style helmet there which later evolved into full-blown Asgardian costume including the upswept shoulders of the cloak.

Jon Hodgson famously revisited this idealized view to show what the real adventurers of Legend look like - hard, gritty and pragmatic. They can be heroes, but in Legend honor has to be alloyed with politics and compromise. It's not all wingèd helms and divine rewards for honest dealing. If you release the Grey Host from their oath, for example, don't expect the story to bend around and pat you on the head - not in Legend. You might simply find you've thrown away a vital weapon. It's not a fairytale world of neat moral payoffs, you see - which is the reason I still prefer it as a role-playing setting, actually, because what are courage and honor worth if you expect them to come with a lollypop?

Awesome comics

2011-11-03T14:11:00.000-07:00

If you're into comics, let me recommend Strip Magazine, the new anthology title with stories by such comics giants as P J Holden (Judge Dredd), John McCrea (Hitman, The Boys), Michael Penick (Insurrection), John Ridgway (Age of Heroes) and many more. The comic is available both in print and on iTunes, and you can read more about it on the Mirabilis blog.

Something eerie on the airwaves

2011-10-31T00:01:00.000-07:00

I've been reading the Binscombe Tales and I’m trying to decide if Mr Disvan should be played by Ian McShane or Derek Jacobi. Yes, they’re very different actors. But Disvan is a complex character – serious and politely formal, sure, but also sometimes mischievous. Ruthless but sometimes compassionate. Anciently wise but sometimes childlike. It’s as if Odin took up residence in a Surrey village and drove a fast car with fluffy dice under the mirror. Except that Disvan has both his eyes, so whatever the answer may be to his mystery, that’s not it.

I’m talking about radio, of course, not television. I haven’t gone completely potty. The Binscombe Tales are far too original and idiosyncratic for British TV. Even on the radio, I can’t see us getting either of those great thesps. (Unless they’re fans of the books – well, you never know.)

Why am I thinking at all along such far-fetched lines? Because, to mark the publication of the Binscombe Tales books today (in print and ebook editions) by Spark Furnace Books, Jamie and I are going into the recording studio with Jamie’s brother Peter (an actor who starred in Jamie’s Heart of Harkun BBC serial) and producer Paul Weir to start the ball rolling on a Binscombe Tales audiobook. We’ll do a couple of stories to start, and when people catch on that the Binscombe Tales really are a work of dark brilliance – pardon the oxymoron – then it's time to see if Sir Derek will take our call.

Publication day

2011-10-28T04:04:00.000-07:00

It's a big day for us on Monday. That's when Fabled Lands LLP are officially launching their book imprint Spark Furnace with the publication of John Whitbourn's classic ghostly series The Binscombe Tales. These were originally written in the early 1990s and have been collected in many anthologies such as DAW's Year's Best Fantasy. To celebrate, Jamie, Tim and I are being taken to a publication day lunch at Wiltons Restaurant off Piccadilly by Fabled Lands LLP's head honcho, Franklin L Johnson. (Must remember to dress smartly for a change.)

Talking of slap-up meals, here's the skinny: Spark Furnace are releasing the stories as three paperbacks (UK here, US here) and in ebook form via Smashwords - or, if you'd rather sample them in chapbook form, as six Kindle books (UK and US).

One of the things that's amazing about the Binscombe Tales is how many now-famous horror and fantasy concepts appeared first in these books. John Whitbourn's story "Eyes" is virtually a prototype in low key for the entire Final Destination series of movies, and this excerpt from the story "Hello Dolly" anticipates the Amy Pond storyline on Doctor Who by almost two decades:

Linda Disch applied her scarlet lips to a Bloody Mary before proceeding. ‘One morning,’ she said, ‘I was playing there with all my dollies and that, when I felt something strange. The wall behind me seemed to have some give in it. It shouldn’t have. It’d always been just a nice plain, solid wall, it made me safe and protected. I wasn’t worried though. Children don’t have much fear, do they, Mr Oakley?’

You obviously didn’t go to prep school, I thought—but kept it to myself.

‘Leastways, I didn’t have much scare in me,’ said Linda. ‘I just took things in my stride in those days.’

‘But what about this wall?’ I asked (she seemed to be dallying).

‘It wasn’t a wall anymore, Mr Oakley. It was a door.’ Linda was wide-eyed with wonder, as if the incident was only five minutes in her past. ‘I looked up and saw there was a big brass doorknob above my head. When I got up I found the wall was now a great oak door—keyhole, panels, the lot.’

‘And when you tried the handle?’ I asked, urging her on once more.

‘Oh, I didn’t, Mr Oakley. I was brought up to knock before I entered rooms, and somehow I didn’t fancy doing that. What I did do was have a quick squint through the keyhole.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing. It was all old and grimed up. You couldn’t see a thing.’

‘I see.’

‘Well, I couldn’t. I was just standing there and gawping, wondering how I’d missed noticing this room before. Then I saw that the door was a poor fit. There was a fair gap at the bottom, half an inch or so. Straight off. I shimmied down on to my tummy and tried to see into the room.

‘There was light in there from a window or something, because I could see bits and pieces of what was beyond. A ray of sunshine was lighting up the gloom. “There’s no carpet,” I remember thinking. “How come Mum stands for that?’” It looked dirty and dusty, all neglected and forlorn. There was faded wallpaper starting to curl off in places and sheets of yellow newsprint lying about. It occurred to me that perhaps even Mum and Dad hadn’t found this room yet. But there again, how could that be? They knew everything. They wouldn’t miss a part of their own house, surely.

‘Then a pair of feet crossed my line of vision, great grey slabs of feet, slowly pacing up and down the room, in and out of that beam of sunlight. I must have gasped or something, because the feet stopped in their tracks as though I’d been heard. They changed direction and headed straight for me...'

STOP PRESS: (I always wanted to say that.) If you live in Surrey, England, pick up a copy of local newspaper the Surrey Advertiser this week, as it features an interview with John Whitbourn in which he talks about his writing, his forthcoming novel (based at the time of the Gordon Riots) and his roots in real-life Binscombe, where his family have lived since the Civil War.

Red planet and red braces

2011-10-26T05:51:00.000-07:00

Last year I ran a post about Thirst, an RTS game concept set on the kind of prehistoric Mars that used to be as familiar as the back garden to readers of Planet Stories. I planned to work on it with Sam Kerbeck, Martin McKenna and some other ex-Eidos developers - until the dotcom bubble burst and 9/11 shocked us all, and between those events investors quaked in their socks and ran and hid.
What I forgot when I wrote the original post was that the pitch for the game got a wee bit further than my 'flu-induced intro storyboard and some design notes on the back of an envelope. Martin worked it all up into quite a nice presentation, as you can see from the sample slides here. And it wasn't just eye candy either: Sam's incredible 3D graphics engine proved how good the finished product could look on PC screens.
Trouble was, the venture capital offices around London by then looked like Escape from New York. In one company, called Nuclear Melon or Fuchsia Clementine or something (I kid you not, they grew up listening to pomp rock, those VCs) I swear I felt broken glass crunching underfoot. There was a whimper from under one of the desks, the kind of sound a man only makes when he's seen his stock options plummet by more than the GDP of an emerging nation. Yet the traumatized VCs calmed down when they heard our pitch; one fellow fluttered his pink tie and, I think, even smiled in a timid way. Had we thought to take doughnuts we might have enticed them out and got our startup funding even then. But no. So Mars remained arid, gamers moved on, Britain's welfare state buckled a little more, and investors throughout the land had to slum it for a few months without the comfort of a third home in the Algarve.

Pain is his wine, and death his meat

2011-10-23T09:08:00.000-07:00

Down Among the Dead Men is one of my own favorites of all the gamebooks I wrote, ranking equal second (after Heart of Ice) with Doomwalk. Partly that's 'cause it's pirates - with magic, but in almost an historical setting, not high fantasy. Leo did his best work ever, really pulled out the stops for this one. And even though the gamebook craze was dying out (this was 1993) Mark Smith and I had both put in more than our 10,000 hours, so if we were ever to be masters of our craft it was then.

I've always felt there's something more to be done with Dead Men. It was one of the story ideas that Leo and I pitched to David Fickling for his comic The DFC. So in another universe, instead of Mirabilis, we're now busy creating an 800-page fantasy comics epic about pirates. Recently Fabled Lands LLP has been looking at doing some new with it - and I can't tell you any details yet, but those plans are pretty exciting. So watch this space for more on that. (No, it's nothing to do with the new gamebook I mentioned in the last post. That's a whole other top secret FL project.)

In case you never read Dead Men, here's the introduction that sets the scene:

'Pirates!' The roar of cannonfire thunders across the waves as the word leaves the captain's lips. Hurtling out of the billowing plumes of smoke comes a barrage of iron shells. Each is larger than a man's fist, and strikes with a force that splinters the oak beams of your ship and shatters men's skulls like eggs. The mainmast takes a direct hit and topples, crushing the sailors standing under it.

A grappling hook latches onto the rail. The pirates are getting ready to board. Rushing to the side, you see their sinister vessel drawing alongside. Black sails flapping in the breeze like a carrion-bird's wings, her prow has the face of a medieval gargoyle. You read the name painted on her bows: the Belle Dame. But there is no look of beauty about her, nor hint of mercy on the faces of the brigands lining her rail.

A crewman standing beside you utters a groan of fear. 'It's Skarvench's ship.'

'Who's he?' you ask, having to shout over the din of cannon shots and the pirates' battle-cries.

He stares at you as though you are a simpleton, and then remembers that this is your first voyage to the New World. 'The worst man that ever lived,' is his blunt reply. And then the ships come together and the pirates are upon you.

Rushing headlong into the terrified crew, the pirates cleave a swathe of gory death across the ship's deck, their cutlasses rising and falling like scythes. You see the ship's officers valiantly fighting to defend the helm, but they are hopelessly outnumbered and soon butchered at their post. The fierce grins on the pirates' faces tell you that they expect easy pickings. You narrow your eyes as anger wells up inside you. You know that you will die today, but you feel no fear - only a cold determination to sell your life dearly. Two pirates lunge towards you. You duck the swing of the first, catch his arm and throw him against his crony. The sword intended for you ends up embedded in a pirate's belly, and his knife comes up by reflex to slash at the man who has inadvertently impaled him.

'Two down...' You turn, and then for the first time you clap eyes on Skarvench himself. He stands on the rail, grasping a grappling-line in one hand and a pistol in the other, whipping his sea-dogs into a killing frenzy with his evil laughter. His broad back and gangling limbs make him look like a massive crow. His beard is as long and lank as seaweed, and a single eye blazes beneath his bald brow - the other is covered by a leather patch.

He is raising his pistol. You are rooted to the spot under his baleful stare. It can't be fear you're feeling, surely...

'Ah, matey,' he says with a brown-toothed grin. 'Got to kill you again, have I?'

Again? You have no time to ponder this enigma. In the next instant, he fires his pistol and your whole world goes black.

* * *

You sit up with a gasp, sweat soaking your clothes. 'You've 'ad that dream again, eh?' says a voice.

You look around, your memory trickling back as the dream recedes. The slow creaking of a ship's timbers, the unhurried heave of the waves... you are in the stuffy confines of the Belle Dame's bowels. Sailors snore fitfully around you, catching some sleep between chores. In the glimmer of an oil lamp sits Old Marshy, the ship's carpenter, whittling at a stick of wood. He glances across at you, shaking his head sadly. 'It was two years ago,' he says. 'Don't know why you can't stop 'aving the dreams.'

'Dreams? Nightmares!' you say, mopping the sweat away. As you do, you feel the scar across your forehead where Skarvench's bullet struck you. A finger's breadth to the right — one less tot of rum for Skarvench's breakfast that fateful morning! - and your brains would have been blown out. As it is the bullet grazed you, leaving only the visible mark on your head and the scar of hatred deep in your heart.

Now that the nightmare has washed away, you recall the two years that have passed since that day. When you were first brought aboard the Belle Dame, Skarvench deemed you too insignificant to ransom and too close to death to be worth pressing into service. He would have cast you into the deep and never had a qualm - that was the fate of most who survived the battle - but Old Marshy undertook to nurse you back to health. You can well remember the weeks it took to get your strength back – weeks experienced like glimpses through broken glass, because of fever. You remember Old Marshy holding the wooden spoon of gruel to your lips until his thin arms trembled with tiredness, urging you to eat. You remember the shouts of the pirates as they toiled in the rigging, and their drunken laughter under the stars at night. And most of all you remember Skarvench, looming through your thoughts like the embodiment of cruelty, striding the deck and waiting for you to die.

You did not die; thanks to Old Marshy you regained your strength. But death might have been better than the living hell you have had to endure these two years as an ordinary seaman aboard the cruelest ship to sail the Carab Sea. Skarvench metes out discipline as the whim takes him, reveling in the suffering of others; pain is his wine, and death his meat. Often you have had to stand by and watch a man whipped for the slightest mistake. Sometimes you have felt that whip yourself- all to the raucous laughter of Skarvench and his vicious pirate band.

'All hands on deck!' Hearing the command, you shake the other sailors awake and hurry up out of the dingy confines of the orlop deck into the blaze of daylight.

Skarvench stands on the poop deck. The ox-like first mate, Porbuck, gives you a shove and growls, 'You, get up in the rigging.' As you climb, you glance out to sea. A small ship lies off the port bow and the Belle Dame is rapidly closing on her. You see a tall wooden crucifix standing amidships; she has no cannon. That is foolhardy: 'Go to sea on a prayer,' as the adage goes, 'but take a keg of powder too.'

You understand the reason for the other ship's lack of weaponry when you get a better view of the men lining her rail. They are all monks!

Skarvench's voice goes snarling across the water. 'Heave to or be blown out o' the water!' he calls. 'We'll be takin' your treasure, holy or not!'

'We have no treasure,' calls back one of the monks. 'We are poor brothers of the Savior, travelling to the New World to spread His message to the heathen.'

Skarvench smiles — always a sign of his bad temper – and says, 'Is that so? Well, I know of no place more heathen than the ocean bed.' He leans on the poop deck rail and calls to the master gunner: 'Mister Borograve, prepare to give 'em a broadside. I want their shaved heads sent forty fathoms deep, where heaven can't hear their mealy-mouthed prayers!'

The monks know they cannot outrun the Belle Dame. As Borograve orders the cannons primed, they begin to sing a hymn. It is a glorious and peaceful sound that reminds you of the meadows and villages of your homeland. Most of the sailors pause in their duties, overcome by the melancholy beauty of the song. Even one or two of the pirates look uneasy at what they are about to do.

'Prepare to fire,' says Skarvench, keen as a hound at the scent of a kill.

'No!' A carpenter's hammer goes flying through the air and strikes Skarvench's head with a crack loud enough to carry up to where you sit in the rigging. Skarvench remains as steady as a rock, his hand flashing out with startling speed to snatch the hammer out of the air as it falls. Then he turns. His face is a mask of white fury. The fact that there is a stream of blood flowing from his temple only makes him look all the more terrible. His gaze bores along the deck and finds:

'Mister Marsh! This your hammer, is it?'

Old Marshy quails, his one jot of boldness used up. 'B-but, Cap'n... they're holy men! I don't think...'

Skarvench tastes his own blood on his lip and savors it with his tongue. He gestures to a couple of the pirates, and Old Marshy is seized and dragged up to the poop deck. 'Lay his head on the rail there, lads,' says Skarvench in a voice like honeyed venom. He raises the hammer. 'You're right, Mister Marsh; you don't think. That's the trouble with having nothin' in your brain-pan, see?'

Far too late, you realize what Skarvench is going to do. You give a gasp and start down through the rigging. But even as you act, you know there is nothing you can do...

The hammer smashes down. It sounds like a wineflask breaking. The ordinary seamen look away in horror. The pirates grin gleefully like their captain, excited by the grisly sight. The corpse slumps to the deck.

'God curse you, Skarvench,' you mutter under your breath as you reach the foot of the mast. 'I'll see you dead for that.'

'You're not alone in wishing that,' whispers a voice, 'but I'd stow such talk unless you want your own skull under the hammer next.' You look around to see three of the crew - Grimes, Oakley and Blutz - men who, like you, were taken off plundered ships and forced to work for the pirates. 'We've a plan,' continues Grimes in a low voice. 'If we stay aboard this devil ship our days are surely numbered, so tonight we plan to jump ship. We're scheduled to take the evening watch. We'll lower the jollyboat with a few supplies, then strike out towards Port Leshand.'

'Five hundred leagues of open ocean in a tiny boat like that!' you gasp. 'It's near certain death.'

'Better than certain death, which is what we can expect here,' mutters Oakley. 'Look, you've got a reputation of being a handy customer to have along in a tight spot. To be honest, we haven't got much of a chance without you. Now, are you with us?'

You glare back up at the tall stooped figure on the poop deck. He stamps to and fro, the brain-smeared hammer still in his hand, annoyed that the monks made their getaway while he was distracted by Old Marshy. You'll make him pay for his crimes one day, but you know the moment is not yet right. You turn to Grimes and the others and give a swift nod. 'I'm with you,' you say.

Now turn to 1.

Some trivia: (1) This introduction was the last part of the book that I wrote. (2) I put on Danny Elfman's soundtrack to Batman Returns, walked around the room dreaming this bit into existence, then went to the keyboard and wrote it all down about as fast as I could have spoken it aloud. (3) Old Marshy is a nod to my friend Ian Marsh, former editor of White Dwarf magazine and our editor on the Virtual Reality series to which Dead Men belonged. (4) Ian also got kind of a namecheck as Captain Numachino in Fabled Lands book 6 - which he edited and typeset. (5) The name of the protagonist of Dead Men, though never mentioned in the text, is Angel Bones.

And if that prologue has given you a taste for piratical adventure on the high seas, I notice there are some copies of the book still available on Amazon US and Amazon UK. They may be worth snapping up. I mean, you'd be happy to own a first edition Harry Potter, now, wouldn't you?

The fiend in his lair

2011-10-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

Here's Jamie proudly brandishing a copy of Dark Lord: The Teenage Years in yesterday's edition of The Argus, the Brighton newspaper read by famous local figures as diverse as Pinkie Brown and Nicholas van Hoogstraten. Jamie is pictured in his "study" (actually a pile of books, magazines and curios that slightly resembles the home of Stig of the Dump - if Stig's den were more cramped and had been randomly furnished with Roman swords and elvish knives).

It's great that Dirk Lloyd is getting such a lot of media attention - not only because it is a great concept and a very funny book, but because it's unlocking the possibility for Fabled Lands LLP to do lots of other projects dear to our hearts. The new gamebook we're working on was green-lit because of the buzz around Dark Lord, and there's even talk now of a Dirk Lloyd gamebook. It looks like a busy year ahead.

Now turn to 1

2011-10-21T02:25:00.000-07:00

Here's an ultra-cryptic clue about the new gamebook Jamie and I will be working on over the next few months with the far-sighted folk at Profile Books. If you can figure it out from this picture then you're a mightier Jedi than Derren Brown, but don't fret as we'll be making the official announcement in a few weeks. All I can say right now is that it's completely different in tone, style and setting from any gamebook we've worked on before, and is the sort of thing that will get even non-gamebookers wanting to turn the page.

Murdoch press bow before Dirk's evil majesty

2011-10-17T07:24:00.000-07:00

I've been saying that Dirk Lloyd was going to conquer the world, and it's happening sooner than I thought. Yesterday, the Sunday Times crowned Dark Lord: The Teenage Years their children's book of the week. They know evil genius when they see it.

It can't be long before all the other British newspapers jump on the bandwagon - followed by their US counterparts when Bloomsbury (who just bought the rights for a mid-five-figure sum after a fierce bidding war) start releasing the series in America early next year. And not long after that you should be able to watch the fabulous NBC television series. I wonder who they'll cast as Dirk. A very scary child indeed, no doubt.

Details of Dark Lord and other Fabled Lands properties in our Spark Furnace online bookstore.

Sokara so good

2011-10-13T02:00:00.000-07:00

Greywood Publishing have just released the first of twelve supplements for the Fabled Lands role-playing game and, if this one is anything to go by, the series is set to be one of the greatest RPG experiences ever.

The book focuses on Sokara, with city maps, new rules, monsters, characters, items and scenarios. Amazing cartography by the legendary Gillian Pearce, drool-worthy art by a host of luminaries, editing by Andrew Wright and gorgeous layouts by author, typographer, graphic designer, publisher and full-on Renaissance Man, Jamie Wallis.

Naturally I'm going to say I like it, but take a look at the reviews this series is garnering. If you want a quick, comprehensive RPG system that lets the adventure come first, Fabled Lands is the one to pick. And P W Gresty, no stranger to these parts, has serendipitously just posted a Fabled Lands scenario, "Many Happy Returns", on his blog, giving new characters a great jumping-off point for their quests.

Golnir next. And wait till you see the beautiful cover artwork for that by a certain (and even more legendary) Mr Gary Chalk!

Samurai smackdown

2011-10-08T00:03:00.000-07:00

I said I had only one more of those Fighting Fantasy proposals - the ones Jamie and I submitted to Puffin just before being commissioned to do Keep of the Lich Lord. Turns out I was wrong; there were two more, and I'm going to save up the outline that I had been thinking of for a later post, but meanwhile here's the one I had clean forgotten about.

I'm pretty sure Jamie must have come up with this pitch, as it is similar in concept to a fifth title in the Duelmaster series that he wrote (and that was even fully illustrated) but that Armada Books then declined to publish. Which is a shame because Duelmaster was a great series, and if anyone could pull off the ultimate martial arts gamebook it would be our Mr Thomson!

MASTERS OF COMBAT

You are one of the brothers at a martial arts monastery in the land of Hachiman. One evening, the monastery funeral bells are rung and you are saddened to hear the chanting which declares the death of the old Soryo (abbot). A new Soryo must be appointed, and it is the tradition of your Order that this will be determined by a series of martial contests.

You are one of the best warriors in the monastery, but at first you have no intention of entering the contests. You are interested only in your unceasing quest for perfection in the martial arts, and you fear that the position of Soryo would require you to spend too much time on simple administrative tasks. However, as you make your way back to your cell after meditation one evening, you overhear something that changes your mind completely. Unaware that you are passing by, another monk, Nintoru, and his cronies are discussing the forthcoming contests. "When I am Soryo," snarls Nintoru, "I will end this practice of giving shelter and training to the peasant rebels in the hills. Our monastery will put its military support behind the Shogun's forces, and any rebels venturing here will be seized and handed over to him."

You are sickened to hear this. It is well known that the Shogun is an evil man whose oppressive taxes have caused thousands to starve and driven thousands of others to a life of banditry. As a powerful military force, your monastery has always sided with the peasants, as it is the teaching of your faith that the powerful fighting secrets that were imparted to the Order also carry a great responsibility to defend the weak. Nintoru has always struck you as a secretive and venal man, even though his martial skill is the equal of your own. Now it is clear that if he becomes Soryo he intends to overturn everything the monastery stands for. To curry favour with the Shogun, he is prepared to betray hundreds of downtrodden rebels and send them to torture and death. You cannot allow such a thing! You must enter the contests after all - you must confront Nintoru in a bid to become the new Soryo. And you must win.

The principal feature of this book is the combat system, which allows readers to decide from a range of martial styles which techniques they will develop for use in their battles. Observing Nintoru's progress in the initial bouts will give some idea of his strengths and weaknesses, and hence suggest techniques that might work against him.

The later contests are not simple face-to-face battles in an arena or dojo, but complete tests of initiative, strategic thinking, courage and fighting skill. The protagonist will have to descend into the ancient catacombs deep below the monastery and engage Nintoru in a prolonged running battle involving wits as well as strength.

Top of the world mwahaha

2011-10-03T00:01:00.000-07:00

He's here at last - and the world may never be quite the same again. I'm talking about Dirk Lloyd, the boy with the soul and the intellect of the Lord of all Evil. Sauron as a schoolboy, Tom Riddle's more sinister younger brother, Darth Vader Junior - call him whatever you like, as long as you remember to add "Master" in suitably respectful tones.

The first Dirk Lloyd book is officially out this week, though if you live in London and have been into Waterstone's any time in the last fortnight you may have seen it already. The UK edition, that is; US readers will need to wait a few months, but Jamie and I got the news in the last few days that the US rights have just sold to Bloomsbury for a good five-figure sum, so Dirk will soon be conquering America too.

This is the first of the all-new concepts that Jamie and I dreamt up for Fabled Lands LLP. We've kept pretty busy since, so there'll be more news on the way soon, but in the meantime you can get the first instalment of Dirk's adventures on Amazon now, with book two coming in the spring. There's more info on the Spark Furnace of course. And here's a taste of what it's like if you live in Dirk's world:

In the lair of the Mantikore

2011-09-28T01:41:00.000-07:00

If the images on the left look familiar, you probably played Sagaland, the German edition of Fabled Lands, which was released in 1998 by Ravensburger Buchverlag. The style of the artwork was very different from the original books, kind of a cross between Hannes Bok and Carl Barks only a lot more cartoony than either. It had a charm of its own, but it was all vignettes and close-ups. It didn't illustrate the world in the sweeping, immersive way that Russ's dynamic landscapes, street scenes and battlefields do.

Anyway, German FL fans who have been holding their breath for a new edition need risk asphyxiation no longer. Nicolai Bonczyk, of Frankfurt RPG publishers Mantikore Verlag, has just started re-releasing the series under the title Legends of Harkuna. The first book, Das Reich des Krieges, is out now and book two is already in the pipeline. A parcel of copies just arrived from Germany and I can tell you that they really look marvellous, with a high-quality paper that does full justice to the crisp reproductions of Russ's illustrations.

I have some other gamebook news that I'm dying to reveal but the deals aren't finalized yet. Suffice it to say at this stage that fans of Fabled Lands and Virtual Reality will have plenty to talk about. And as for talk of an all-new gamebook by me and Jamie - that's just a rumour. You didn't hear it from me.

The first ongoing gamebook series ever (nearly)

2011-09-23T00:13:00.000-07:00

I can tell you the where, when and who. Mike Polling, author of the Dragon Warriors adventure “The Key of Tirandor” (recently collected in In From the Cold) had a flat in Edgeley Road, Clapham, where we all gathered for twice-weekly games of Empire of the Petal Throne, RuneQuest and Questworld – the last of which was later to mutate into the Ophis campaign world. Along with Mike there was Jamie, Oliver Johnson and Mark “Min” Smith.

One autumn afternoon in 1983 we sat around the kitchen table. Jamie was working at Games Workshop and must have mentioned that The Warlock of Firetop Mountain was selling better than anyone including its authors (Livingstone and Jackson) could have expected. “Other publishers will be looking for their own gamebook series,” realized Mike, always the most astute of our group. It dawned on us that maybe we should forego that day’s gaming in order to put together a proposal. Min will have been the one to insist on that; Jamie and I would surely have rather just played a game.

What we came up with that day was a proposal for The Sword of the Silver Dawn. The title was probably Mike’s, and I think I detect an underlying Campbellian framework that will have come from him too. I remember him insisting that the old mentor figure should depart at cockcrow – the first inkling that he might be a ghost. Doubtless more would have been made of that fact later in the series. (Heroes prefer their mentors to be ethereal as it means they’re conveniently available in a crisis, most fantasy worlds lacking mobile phone coverage.)

Galador, the Council of Paladins, Castle Blight – those are classic Oliver Johnson touches. The magic sword is almost certainly Jamie’s. The betrayal of Sussurian (ah, so that’s where I first used that name!) by the champion must have been my idea; I love reversals in unexpected places. The notion of a deeper evil lurking in the castle dungeons, prolonging the curse even when you think you should have triumphed, that again bears Mike’s fingerprints. The actual nature of the final foe as a pure manifestation of hatred and evil I’m sure was Min’s. Always a fan of Leiber’s stories, he particularly liked the Fafhrd and Grey Mouser story “The Cloud of Hate” and later elaborated on the theme in his gamebook The Coils of Hate (soon to be re-released if negotiations work out).

The Sword of the Silver Dawn wouldn’t have been the first gamebook series. Inspired by programmed learning books, the Choose Your Own Adventure series was already going strong by 1983. The American Steve Jackson (of GURPS fame) had extended the concept into role-playing with his Fantasy Trip solo books in the late ‘70s, and of course the UK Steve Jackson and his partner Ian Livingstone had transplanted that variant to high street bookstores with Fighting Fantasy. Joe Dever and Gary Chalk both worked at Games Workshop back then, so Jamie may have got wind that they were planning a series of their own. Nonetheless, Silver Dawn would have been the first ongoing, narrative-driven gamebook with a specific lead character.

It didn’t happen because Jamie and Min got sidetracked by The Talisman of Death, their entry in the Fighting Fantasy series, and then by the Falcon and Way of the Tiger books. Oliver and I were wooed by Philippa Dickinson to write The Lord of Shadow Keep for Fighting Fantasy, but I went off instead to write the Golden Dragon Gamebooks (less money, more control) and Oliver soon joined me there, bringing Shadow Keep with him. And then Dragon Warriors, Blood Sword, and so on.

Perhaps The Sword of the Silver Dawn would have been a bit too generic and D&D-ish to hold our interest over any more than three books, but having found the original proposal just today – a couple of crumpled, typewritten sheets stuffed into one of the Ophis folders – I feel a twinge of regret that we didn’t try our hands at a five-way collaboration. Between us we had the talent to make something truly memorable. Well, that's something I hope we did anyway.

The Sword of the Silver Dawn

2011-09-18T04:52:00.000-07:00

This is another never-was gamebook proposal but, unlike the ones I've posted before (eg here and here), this dates right back to the early 1980s when the gamebook craze was just beginning. If we had gone ahead with this, it would have pre-dated Lone Wolf, Grailquest and Falcon to be the first ongoing gamebook series with a specific lead character. I'll explain the context on Friday, but first here's the original three-book proposal as written by me, Jamie Thomson, Oliver Johnson, Mark Smith and Mike Polling.

Background to the adventure

In former times, the land of Thalassa was ruled by the High King, a good and wise monarch who brought peace and prosperity to his subjects.

But the High King died, and his son, the evil wizard Prince Sussurian, came to the throne. The Council of Paladins was dissolved and its members scattered to the corners of the kingdom. While those who opposed the Prince were beheaded or cast into his dungeons, the cruel and ruthless became Sussurian's knights, and thus he closed his evil grip on the land.

Your father, Galador, was chief of the Council of Paladins. Now he lives in retirement on the only lands which were not taken from him. You have never known a life different from the simple country ways you and your family have been forced to adopt. But you have always dreamed of the glorious days when your father 'wielded the sword Whitefire.

One night you are visited by an old man, Aurelion, who persuades your father that he must once again take up arms and oppose Sussurian, whose tyrannical reign must be ended. As your father reaches for the sword, the fire dies to a flicker and all the lamps and candles go out. At once, Aurelian shouts a mystic word and the fire leaps up. In the flickering gloom, you see a dark shadow reaching out to touch your father.

Instinctively, you seize the sword. A nimbus of light shines from the blade as you swing it at the Shadow, which begins to shrivel but,even as it does so, fades into your father, who slumps to the floor. Aurelion does his best; after some time he turns to you. He explains that your father is a victim of the Prince's evil necromancy, and that there is little he can do. He tells you that the sword Whitefire has chosen you as its wielder, and that in order to save your father's life you must undertake the quest in his place.

Your first objective must be to prevent the wicked Baron Korstang, who rules this area through his band of robber-knights, from returning to the Court of Prince Sussurian with the dread Sceptre of Doom. With this artifact, the Prince's power would to such that none could stand against him. At this point, the cock crows and Aurelion hurries away.

You set off on your adventure...

General outline

Although all three books form a single adventure, each is entirely self-contained and can be read/played on its own.

The Sceptre of Doom
In this book, the hero's objective is to prevent Baron Korstang from taking a magical artifact of great power to the evil Prince Sussurian. After many adventures, the hero finally catches up with Baron Korstang and defeats him. He destroys the Sceptre of Doom, and in so doing attracts the attention of the forces of darkness.

The Black Knight
Prince Sussurian's champion, the Black Knight - who appears only peripherally in the first book - is sent with orders to slay the hero and capture his enchanted sword, Whitefire. The Black Knight has other ideas. With the power of the sword he hopes to supplant Sussurian. Early in the book, the hero loses Whitefire, upon which he has come to depend. He has to overcome the obstacles facing him without the aid of its magic. Thus he begins to learn that he can rely on his own inner strength. Eventually he retrieves the sword. In the final battle with the Black Knight it is his own courage and resolve, as much as the power of the sword Whitefire, that wins him victory.

The Court of Prince Sussurian
The final book takes the hero into the heart of Sussurian's domain, Castle Blight. The many rooms and towers of the Prince's court are inhabited by dissolute courtiers, brutal men-at-arms and creatures of the night, attracted by the citadel's aura of evil. The hero has to find his way past these, and the Castle's many traps and magical wards, to get to Sussurian. The ensuing battle pits the determination and valiant heart of the hero against the sorcery and cunning of the evil Prince. However, even with Sussurian defeated, the hero realizes that the curse laid on his father in the first book is still not lifted. So he penetrates the Castle's deepest depths where he finds a monstrous demon, the pure manifestation of evil. He hurls his sword at it, and the sword becomes a shaft of white light which pierces and destroys the demon.

The Land Below the Sunset

2011-09-13T03:38:00.000-07:00

Ophis was where Oliver and I planned to take Dragon Warriors next, if the series had continued beyond book 6. Originally conceived and written as a supplement for Questworld, a RuneQuest spinoff collaboration between various game publishers of the early 1980s, it was one of those Games Workshop projects for which we never got a contract or payment. Naive? Well no, because RPG projects were forever falling through in those days; it was better to retain ownership of your work until the cat was definitely in the bag.

The setting was a continent far, far to the west of the known lands of Legend - and possibly not even geographically in the same world. Pilgrims fleeing the judgement of the Last Days had fled across the sea, arriving at the edge of a vast continent from which flowed the mighty Ophis river. As the refugees built a new civilization from their major city of Deliverance, they explored upriver and encountered the fringes of an older civilization, now decaying, whom they called the Ancients - and were called, in their turn, the Invaders.

As Legend is a dreamlike distortion of the medieval European and Middle Eastern world, so Ophis could be seen as a fantasy interpretation of Europeans settling America and Australia - if the aboriginals of those lands had a civilization as sophisticated as ancient China or Egypt.

Along with scenarios and source material, Oliver and I began a novel, The Land Below the Sunset, set in the world of the Invaders & Ancients. Here is an excerpt that is closest to being a typical roleplaying adventure. To provide some context, the Old City comprised ruins across the river from Deliverance - a settlement of the Ancients long abandoned, and now used as a necropolis by the rich families of Deliverance. It is guarded by a regiment of tomb police called the Interficers. Why would a man take such a job? Well:

There were twenty vaults along the Avenue of the Esteemed Dead. At either end stood pikemen hired by the Exequial Guild to keep away graverobbers. Under the wide-brimmed helmets their faces were sweat streaked and morose. Only the eyes were animated, darting, luminous with wild emotion in those expressionless faces, like someone staring through eyeslits in a painting. These men, known as Interficers, were recruited directly from the Tower of Jalef where the city's lunatics were kept. Their madness was a better deterrent to grave robbers than any judicial punishment would have been. There were tales of tomb guards devouring prisoners or bricking them up alive in narrow cervices. No graverobber ever came to trial.

And here is a chapter from the novel. This bit was based closely, I would think, on one of our own games:

In the course of his life Azimbo Canitis had made a small fortune. Unfortunately he had also spent it, frittered away on gambling and gifts for a dozen girls who all looked the same. But it wasn't so bad. Azimbo was never short of company. He could live on his reputation. There were always people eager to hear his tales. He never needed to buy supper or a tankard of ale. Beyond that, there wasn't much of value that money could buy - or so Azimbo told himself.

Here were two more now. They pushed under the sacking covering the doorway and for a moment the pipe smoke and hubbub of the taproom entered Azimbo's snug.

"Master Canitis?" ventured one. Azimbo sized them up at a glance. Youthful and wide-eyed; raw recruits. The blue doublets with the badge of the hawk and dolphin in gold marked them out as city militia. The shortswords with blade-catching prongs at the hilt meant that they'd just come off duty. Eventually, if they lived long enough, they'd learn that The Singing Fish wasn't a place to stop for a casual drink on the way home to a better part of town.

Azimbo gave them an ironic salute. An age ago, he'd been a militiaman too. He moved the bench opposite out with his foot. "Set yourselves down there, my lads, and set that mug of ale down here, and you can tell me what I can do for you."

They sat down hesitantly, just boys really. "We heard you used to be a tomb robber," said the taller of them. His eyes were half hidden under an unruly shock of curls.

"Come to arrest me, eh?" said Azimbo.

The youth took him seriously. "Oh no, no, sir..."

The other butted in. He had a clever cavalier look about him. But not as clever as he fancied himself. "What my friend means is, we were hoping you could tell us what it was like. How did you get by the Interficers?"

"You couldn't always. Once I had to kill a couple." Azimbo basked in the look of respect that appeared in the eyes of the two young men. "Oh, they weren't the worst of it. Got any pipeweed?"

The taller youth jumped up, almost banging his head on the low beam. "I can get you some, sir."

"Nah, what I've got'll do fine. Sit down, then, and I'll tell you a tale to think about on dark nights." Azimbo leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. The ale could wait a while. He enjoyed reminiscing. "It was the last time I went to the Old City. There was me, Beergut Barino and Eresh the Whisper, though neither of them'll mean much to you.

"There were a few spots of rain as we set out and barely a grumble of thunder over the hills, but it was cutting up pretty rough by the time we got across. The weather wasn't a problem, it was on our side. The Interficers couldn't see our boat in the rain."

"What about patrols on the bank?"

"You're getting ahead of things, lad, and in any case there aren't any patrols. You don't suppose the Interficers stay in the place after dark? They get the job by being crazy, not stupid. Once it's nighttime they keep to the river and once you've made the run across it's not them you've got to worry about. Anyway, we put in at a quay with a kind of cloister round three sides. I saw then that Eresh was going to be a problem. He'd taken a dose of some stuff he'd got off a trader from upcoast and he was starting to lose it. If not for the rain I'd have gone straight back, but it was coming down too heavy by now. The only thing for it was to do a night's work and get going as soon as it let up.

"We came out of the cloister passage and something scuttled off. It was big and it went on all fours. That was a bad moment as you can guess, lads, but it was just a leper. I remember that leper's face to this day because he had a big mad grin like nothing I can describe. I guess he knew what it was like to be turning into a monster.

"Well, we headed across a square that I used to call Bone Yard because of another time. The rain was driving in our faces and the trees were shaking about like crazy women. There was a sheet of lightning right overhead - it was just like the day came back for an instant - and we saw these three big statues made of green stone. They weren't human statues. Something else. They were facing out towards the river. Eresh chuckled to himself and told us they were Vaals, but I still don't know what that means. A mystery for you lads to clear up one day, hmm?"

"Vaals..." said one of the youths seriously.

"Something like that. Anyway, there's a fountain in that square with a sculpture in the middle. What a sculpture! She could stir your loins even in as desolate and blood-freezing a spot as that. Chizzi, we used to call her, like in that old song:

"Chizzi'll be waiting, boys,

'till you come back to dock;

drop your anchor there, my boys,

and give 'er - "

"I'll get some more ale!" cried the curly-haired youth, jumping up suddenly. This time he did bang his head. He went out to the taproom with his hand pressed to his head, but it didn't hide the blush that had shot up into his face at Azimbo's ribald song.

Azimbo roared with laughter, and his big stomach was still quaking when the youth came back sheepishly with a second foaming flagon of ale. "Where was I?" he said as he poured himself a mug. "Ah, that statue in the fountain. She had limbs that went on and on, reaching up to the sky..." He grinned at the embarrassed youth and decided to spare him. "The fountain itself was full of muck and slime, but to Eresh in his addled state it must have looked like sweet water. He leaned over and suddenly he was staring into the water with eyes as wide as a doxy's legs. His mouth was open like he was trying to scream except nothing came out. Then he was off and running. He went into a low building with narrow windows and we decided not to follow. You get a feel for certain places and this was one of them.

"There's a building with tall towers on the side of the square. I think it was a temple in the old days. Me and Beergut waited under the colonnade in front watching the rain. There were swarms of gnats and kissgiss and a whole lot of fat brown snails like oak apples. Eresh didn't come back. After a bit the wind turned and started throwing the rain in on us so we decided to go inside for a look. There was a smell from an old drifter who'd crawled in there and died. There were more of those snails all over the body. We got a couple of lilac opals out of a face carved in the wall and Beergut didn't see me pocket a string of prayer beads that I later got twenty Argurs for.

"The storm was over, the clouds breaking up. You could see the stars like little bits of glass and the wet paving just gleamed. We decided to head back before the moon got too high, though with the Interficers it's often hide-and-seek out and a straight race coming back. Anyway, then Beergut grabbed my arm all of a sudden - like that - and he pointed up to the parapet of the nearest building. You know what? Eresh the Whisper was dancing and leaping about up there like a bloke that's backed the winning chariot on Foundation Day. But then it was like he just froze, his arms dropped and his head went back and he came tumbling down. Crunch. A body makes a hell of a crack from that height."

"Was he dead?" asked the youth with the mop of hair.

"Dead? Of course he was dead! His head had come open like a melon and a dog would've turned its nose up at what was left in his brain-pan."

"What did you do?" said the other youth and, to show he wasn't as naive as his friend, he added, "You couldn't get the body back."

"Nah. Who'd have wanted it anyway? We left his cash - well, most of it - in case he needed it in the afterlife, but we did take a ruby scarf-pin and this silver ring I'm wearing.

"You think that's it? Well, lads, you don't know anything about the Old City in that case. It never is easy, and always in a way you didn't expect. When we got back to the quay, there was Eresh sitting in the boat with his head in one piece and a strange thoughtful smile on his lips. We just stood there, Beergut and me, and he kept on looking back at us without a word. Eventually Beergut took me aside and he said, 'Whatever we thought we saw we can't have seen, right?' 'Right,' I said. 'And we don't want to stop here until the Interficers have got their boats out.' 'That's true too,' I said.

"'So come on,' says he and we got into the boat. By this time I guess we'd both decided it must have been somebody else we saw fall off the roof. I'd seen enough weird things over there in my time.

"The storm had passed over and the sky was like black glass. Beergut kept an eye out for patrol boats while I rowed. We were past midstream and in the clear when I saw Beergut tense up. Something behind me. So I looked over my shoulder and there was Eresh getting slowly to his feet, just as slowly as a curl of smoke rising from this pipe, and without rocking the boat even a bit. I reached for him in case that stuff had got him so stoned that he was going to take a dip. But then..." Azimbo shook his head.

The young militiamen waited as long as their impatience allowed. "Then?"

"You know what it's like when you wake up in the middle of a dream? There can be a face in front of you and it just sort of sloughs away. Suddenly it wasn't Eresh anymore. It wasn't anything natural. It was like a shadow standing up in the prow of the boat. Beergut was one of those people who get real angry when they're afraid. He pushed past me and went for it with his sword. I started trying to get one of the oars loose so I could shove the thing overboard. The tricky part for us was that we had to keep low so as not to upset the boat, whereas whatever it was really didn't seem to have any more weight than a shadow. Beergut yelped as it snatched at him. It had sliced off a couple of his fingers somehow, though I didn't see a knife. Beergut fell back into me and I got knocked over. I was lying in the bottom of the boat and I saw Beergut lift his sword high over his head, screaming all the time. He was going to cut that thing in two if he could.

"But he never got the chance. It was a clear sky like I said, so I don't see how it could've been lightning - but what else? There was a hot blinding light and the boat flew apart like a giant had gone - " He banged his fist on the table. "Next thing, I was gulping water and when I got to the surface there was nothing left to see. I swam back to shore and got back, as I've told you, with a bit of treasure but minus my eyebrows and two old friends. And that, my fine lads, was the last time I went to the Old City."

"Until tonight," said a voice from the doorway.

The newcomers had entered without any of them noticing. One was a rose-tinted Ancient, long and insubstantial within a sheath of silken robes. Wisps of lank hair hid his pale heavy lidded eyes. The other was a lean young woman whose high leather boots and close-fitting brocade jacket suited her tomboyish figure. The brooch at her throat, her one item of jewellery, bore the crest of one of the first families.

The two militiamen shot to their feet, torn between distaste for the Ancient and deference to the lady. Deference won out. They attempted a gallant bow in unison. "Ma'am," said the tall youth with old fashioned courtesy, "you would do us an honour to join this gathering."

"Leave us, please," she said. "We have business with this man."

The militiamen nodded. "Of course." They snatched up their swords and helmets, almost falling over themselves in their haste to comply.

When they were alone in the snug, the Ancient came forward, bowing under the low rafters. Azimbo scrutinized him in the smoky light. "Chendu. I never thought to see you back in Deliverance."

"This is Mistress Seraphine," said Chendu. "We need to go over the river, Azimbo."

"My lady, will you sit?"

Nephithia glanced at the beer-stained bench, planted a boot on it and rested her arms on her knee. She nodded for Azimbo to sit back down. "Did you hear what he said? We need to cross to the Old City. Tonight."

Azimbo gave an uncomfortable laugh. "You don't want to put too much store by those tales I tell, my lady. That's just a way for a fellow to scrape a living."

"Azimbo has acquired the virtue of modesty since last we met," said Chendu to Nephithia. "The truth is he was the best ever to ply the trade of tomb robber. He is wily and he has luck on his side too, as the story we just heard attests. Most importantly, he knows his way around the canals where we'll hope to lose the Interficers.

"That's a good combination of skills. How about it, Azimbo?"

"You want me to come along? No! I'm retired. I don't need it."

A bag of coins smacked onto the table. Azimbo stared at it keenly like a cat discovering a sleeping mouse. There was an unmistakable heaviness in the sound it had made...

"Yes," said Chendu, "it's gold."

"But," began Azimbo, then his mouth went dry. His instinct was always to haggle, but they were already offering more money than he would ever have dared to ask for. More than he had seen in five years.

He snatched the purse, drained his beer and got up. "Let's go," he said.

They stepped out of The Singing Fish. The day had gone and the sky was like old silver. A few high thin clouds caught the last rays, becoming plumes of black smoke limned with fire. Those thin rails of light only served to quicken the retreating sun, leaving the deep streets draped in dusk.

Half a dozen men emerged from nowhere. "You got a pretty package there, Azimbo," said one.

"Yeah, and the purse too," snorted another.

The first man moved a little nearer and stood in a loose cocksure stance. "Hand it over, old man." He had a thin bullying voice, the kind that sniggers at another's misfortune. The details of his face were lost in shadow, but they could see the yellow gleam of teeth and the iron bar in his hands.

"Can we cut the pasty, Frovel?" asked another of the gang eagerly. "I want to see what color blood he's got."

There was a frozen moment as both groups confronted each other in silence. Then a massive figure detached himself from the shadows around the side of the tavern and lumbered into view. His face looked like a crag with a patch of grey moss growing on top of it. In his hands he swung a spiked mace. It looked as if he would need no effort to push a man's face through into the back of his skull.

"You better keep out of this, pal," said Frovel.

"Get back to the gutter, you rodents," said Taltivin.

He had the kind of voice that didn't give a second warning. Frovel took a step back before he could stop himself. That made him feel humiliated and angry. He had his reputation to think of. "Deshok and Holmar, both of you - "

Nephithia drew her sword. She put her hand on Azimbo's shoulder and moved him aside. Frovel gave a high titter of laughter. "You let girls do your fighting for you these days, Azimbo?"

"Think about this," said Nephithia. "Before you bring us down, at least three of you will be dead."

Frovel couldn't understand what there was about the lean young woman that made him feel afraid. He hated her for her aristocratic self-assurance and for her lack of fear. "You won't be dying, bitch, not till you're begging for it."

"That really is no way to speak to a lady."

Frovel turned his head towards the young man at the entrance to the alley. "Scutri's balls!" he screamed. "Is there anyone in this whole pissing city that doesn't want to muscle in?"

The two militiamen chose that moment to step out of the tavern. With their smart uniforms and their helmets tucked under their arms they looked like two cavalry captains on parade. The shorter of the two, obviously not as sharp as he liked to think, said in a bemused voice, "What's going on?"

It was enough for Frovel and his gang. They beat a hasty retreat along the alley and ducked through a hole in a fence.

"A timely intervention," said Nephithia with a smile, not to the militiamen but to the man at the entrance of the alley.

"If you're planning that boat trip," replied Kethar, "I think I'd better come along."

Invisible bridges of "what if?"

2011-09-09T09:09:00.000-07:00

I wrote a few months ago about the brilliant, award-winning Binscombe Tales series written by my friend and writing mentor John Whitbourn, concluding that "the stories would be perfect for Kindle, but John is never going to sanction that."

Well, I have great pleasure in announcing that I could not have been more wrong! John Whitbourn is not only licensing Fabled Lands LLP to release the stories in a set of Kindle "chapbooks", but we are also preparing a three-volume print edition of the never-before-collected Complete Binscombe Tales. The new covers will be by Leo Hartas (though the illustration above is by Alan Hunter, from an earlier edition of the tales) and whether your penchant is for ebooks or old-fashioned paper and ink, there'll be a version for you.

The books should be out by Halloween, and Jamie is even talking about releasing some of the stories in audio format. It's still rather summery to be thinking of drawing the curtains, stoking up the fire and settling down in a deep leather armchair with a classic collection of whimsical spine-chilling tales, but so that you can start to plan your autumn, here's the author himself on the inspiration to the series:

These are stories about the "least vivacious" and "most threatened" people in the world - the aboriginal South-East English. They concern a mythical village where strangers are welcome, but not always safe. The cast comprises, to quote Oliver Cromwell, "men of modest means and ancient principles" while the spirit which imbues the Binscombe Tales is best expressed in these words of Kundera's: "On the surface, there was always an impeccably realistic world, but underneath, behind the backdrop's cracked canvas, lurked something different, something mysterious or abstract... On the surface, an intelligible lie; underneath, the unintelligible truth".

It sometimes strikes me that the English are losing sight of their history, that is to say, the vital perceived links between past, present and future - and, just as importantly, their shared mythology. I also gibe at the growing Americanisation and Londonisation of everything. The Binscombe Tales emanate from that vague sense of loss. They perhaps seek to prompt an alternative perception of life in England (and Britain).

There is, more or less, a real place called Binscombe, a village with a working men's club still known as 'the Moscow', with old men with Anglo-Saxon names like Aethelbert, and where many family trees verge onto that interesting time before records. The two Binscombes are not the same but they are linked with subtle and invisible bridges of 'what if'? However, the truth of the matter is that these are just ghost stories which I hope you will enjoy, and that:

"God gives all men, all earth to love
But since man's heart is small,
Ordains for each one spot shall prove,
Beloved over all."