Choice Results are at the bottom of the page. Good luck!
Without the caravan to slow down your progress, you pick up the pace and soon reach the Bridge of Thorbadon. A massive pale grey structure that spans a huge ravine that leads into the lush green Open Plains; home of the Centaurs. Elegant, and carved with dancing elves along the length of the bridge, it is an impressive sight to behold with its four wings sprouting out from all four corners like a triumphant procession for a returning hero. You take a moment to appreciate this great wonder of Coroleya, before looking over to see the other side of the bridge. And to your surprise you don't see a single guard standing watch. Only the long the flat green rolling plains that go as far as the eye can see. It'd be quite the picturesque scene if it were not so dangerous. Walking out in the open with no place to hide, is usually an invitation to be killed. Still, it is curious that there are no Centaurn guards posted at the Bridge to guard entry into their lands. The Centaurs of the Open Plains, usually like to keep a tight watch on travelers that wish to pass through their lands.
A worrying thought, that has you increasing your pace in order to be on the other side and be miles away from here when an awful stench wafts towards your nostrils. Accustomed to this stench from your time in the army. You realize there must be an army camped nearby, which explains the lack of warriors guarding the bridge. Deciding it would be best to avoid them, you head in the opposite direction from which the smell is coming from.
You march for another eight or nine square miles upon the Open Plains and find not a single decent spot for you to camp out for the night. With darkness fast approaching you have no choice, but to try and get a few winks of sleep out here in the open. Closing your eyes, you stay half-awake most of the night, and when morning arrives you feel just as tired as if you had never slept. As you rub your tired eyes, you see dust flying up in the distance and it is closing in fast. With nowhere to run or hide. You grit your teeth and draw your weapon.
Out of the dust emerges fifteen fully armored Centaurs, wielding their famous Centaurn bows. The Centaurs their eyes upon you, close the gap quickly and surround you from all sides. Their bows drawn and aimed at you. The Captain of the Centaurs a wide-shouldered warrior, with fine long black hair and a face cut from steel stares at you. "This is no place for strangers! What are you doing here?! Are you a spy, working for the necromancer?! Answer me?!" But before you can even reply, one of the Centaurs comes up from behind you and lands a powerful blow to the back of your head. Knocking you out cold.
You awake several hours later in a tent to the sounds of arrows thunking into targets, blades being sharpened and warriors bawling to each other. You take one whiff and you know you inside the Centaurn war camp. That's also when you realize you are not alone. Sitting at a table is a well-dressed female elf (Fae'lon), who gives you a gentle smile. "Welcome back to the living stranger, before you ask me any questions, let me first explain to you why you are here? A dark mage named Azkan a former member of the Fae'lon Guardians has taken up residence in a tower not far from here. The Centaurs see this as an affront to their ancestors and have gathered an army to fight the undead that guard the tower's walls. I fear Horselord Orkrelan in his haste to protect his homeland has declared you a spy and will surely execute you on the morrow." Seeing your rising panic, she holds up a slender hand. "But never fear, there is a way out of this for you, and a way to prove your innocence, for words alone will not suffice here. I have within me the ability to transport you into the tower, where you can slay the dark mage and prove your innocence. I also can teleport you out of here and away from the Centaurn army. Which is it you desire?"
Choice 2. Do you agree to slay the Dark mage in return for your freedom, but inwardly plan to betray the Centaurs and join the Dark mage for maybe a taste of power?
After a brief moment of contemplation, you nod your head in agreement. “Very well, send me to your blasted tower.” Who knows maybe you'll find something of worth inside and punish all the centaurs that had dared to attack you.
Savoring the thought of mouth-watering vengeance, you watch her make her way around the table towards you, lay her cold palm against your forehead, and in a flash of blinding light that somehow makes you feel dizzy you find yourself inside the dark corridors of the tower. The walls around you smelling of sulfur and blood, while behind you was a stone staircase that lead further down, and in front stone steps.
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Certain the mage must be up there somewhere, gloating or doing whatever mages do best, you thank the elf for not sending you headlong into danger and slowly begin your way up the stairs, your footfalls light as the breeze as you try to avoid making any no sounds.
Cracked and broken in places, you are forced to hop across the gaps in the stonework, and in the places, you couldn’t jump, you slide sideways until at last, you think you were nearing the top of the tower.
Heart thundering inside of your chest, you edge your way closer and closer, till you catch a brief glimpse of a shadow above you.
Teeth gritted to stop yourself from making the slightest sound, you continue upwards, and hold back a gasp of surprise as a creature that faintly resembles a minotaur comes into view. The undead thing swaying from side to side in full plate armor as it dragged behind it a great Warhammer that scraped across the surface of the stone.
With no way past the undead being, you draw your longsword with a quiet hiss and in one lightning-swift movement you swoop up the last few steps to chop off its head. The rancid smell of desiccation hitting your nostrils as the minotaur’s still helmeted skull bounced across the ground.
Flinching inwardly at the noise you’d made, you sprint along the blank un-decorated corridors, reach the next staircase at the other end and take the steps two or three at a time. Your biggest fear that you’d lost the element of surprise proven false as your luck continues to hold out, the vicinity clear of undead creatures guarding the corridors.
Clambering up three more flights that burned your thighs, you see a large doorway ahead of you, the wide hallway leading towards it filled with graphic paintings that depicted the many gruesome ways to die. The mage’s fondness for death making you smile at the sheer irony of it all as you run towards the huge wooden door, stop to listen for a second to see if anyone was on the other side, before carefully turning the knob.
Forced to wait as your eyes adjusted to the gloom, your gaze shoots over towards the figure sitting in the candlelit shadow of a well-crafted mahogany desk with a small library of books and scrolls behind him. The decrepit old elf seated behind the desk wearing a satin black robe with gold skin and polished blue eyes that glare up at you. “I told you imbeciles, I do not wish to be disturbed!”
“I ain’t one of your lackeys, Azkan. I was sent here by your good friend Sylven to cleanse the world of your foul stain unless of course, you have a better offer to place on the table?”
Azkan stares at you in wide-eyed surprise, before throwing back his head in a laugh. “Excellent, most excellent indeed,” his laugh twisted into a dry rattling cough, “Sylven was never a good judge of character, but I could use a warrior such as you. My army is in need of a new commander. For too long the centaurs have disturbed my work. Help me to be rid of them, and I shall richly reward. Not only with gold but with power.”
Pleased at the offer, you nod your head in acceptance. “Very well.”
Tugged backward by a wave of magic much different to Sylven’s, you open your eyes to find yourself amid the busy war camp with a whole host of undead warriors behind you. The centaurs around the camp who’d been preparing for battle, stare at you in shock as you lift your voice to the sky and let out a war cry.
The disorganized centaurn ranks, ripped and torn apart as the undead washed over the camp like a tidal wave of death, your blade always there to break up the clumps of horsemen that manage to rally together when you see the elven mage appear from within her tent.
Mouth twisted into a snarl, you race towards her as she unleashes a hellstorm of firebolts, lightning, the undead warriors around you sacrificing their lives to protect you as you quickly close the gap, and before she has time to scream, you thrust your blade through her heart. The guardian looking up at you with tears in her eyes, whispering, “Why?”
You reply, “Why not.”
The fighting done for the most part, you feel yourself again being pulled back towards the tower where Azkan still sat behind his desk. The old mage pointing to a chest in front of the table. “Your reward.”
Hungry to see what was inside, you flip open the lid with your foot, and smile at the pouches of gold nestled inside, your joy soon overcome by a crippling stab of pain.
Body shaking, you look up to see the elf smirk at you. “Power has a price.” Then as before you are drawn backward by forces you cannot see...
Battle Results
- 150 Health Points (Remember to take into account your magical resistance.)
+ 5 Resilience
Loot
+ 1,000 Gold Pieces
Side Quest Complete