The butler did it, you idiot!
There was no butler?
Oh, alright, it was Parsion the faux-Sommlending priest.
I still remember the second time I played this book (after, during the first play, dying due to insufficient Gold Crowns for a night of room and board) picking Parsion as the traitor simply because he looked as dodgy as heck in the book’s illustrations.
Let’s face it, that picture of the cast of suspects made it pretty obvious that he was the guy. The shadowed appearance, the hood, the shifty glance, etc etc.
With the benefit of a number of years (decades) since my first attempt at the adventure, I can see that :
- He was a dude that was purportedly from Sommerland doesn’t know that his country has, you know, been invaded.
- More importantly, the picture referenced in the previous entry shows that Parsion has a tattoo of a serpent on his left wrist and, as this entry showed, that feature is the ‘membership token’ of those who seek to kill me.
So – as I leap (with my fists) across the table, the ‘priest’ does not seem surprised by my attack, and draws a ‘black sword’ from beneath his robes (!!)
Parsion : CS : 17, E : 23
Remembering, of course, that my Combat Skill of 17 is adjusted by having no weapon (-4) but also by having a shield (+2), that makes my stats for the purpose of the combat :
Lone Wolf : CS : 15, E : 20
The good news? The ‘priest’ lies dead at my feet. The bad news? My Endurance is now at the ‘bracing’ level of….4.
Well, I’ll just have to make sure that I don’t trip over anything or get sunburnt. That could well prove fatal.
For some reason, an album called ‘At Death’s Door’ came to mind – go figure.
Parsion’s possessions remove any doubt that he was the (attempted, thankfully) assassin. He has a vial (half-full, naturally) of the poison sprinkled liberally on my food, along with a scroll (in the enemy language, no less) detailing my anticipated movements. Finally, the sword he used to fight me was clearly forged in Helgedad / Mount Doom, and is the clear mark of a servant of the baddies.
Finally, the book confirms the serpent tattoo / left wrist detail and thankfully mentions that I can snaffle the 23 Gold Crowns in this miscreant’s purse.
I barely have time to bask in the glow of my correct identification / combat victory combo before the innkeeper (he of the ‘accessory to attempted murder’ genre) enters, together with six guards.
Aside : How small can this town be, when it has no less than six guards for protecting the city peace? Most small towns in my country have one town constable, if they are lucky…
I don’t see any benefit to fighting the guards. Apart from having only four (4) Endurance left, they are doing no more than their jobs, and can’t know that this ‘priest’ was, in fact, a traitor to the cause, clearly sent to kill me.
I dash out the back door and steal / borrow a horse that was tethered to a cart.
I’m not proud. If taking a horse saves thousands of lives, I’ll do it.
Actually, I’d probably just do it anyway, because….reasons.
And as I ride into the sunset, I leave you there. (Endurance (through Healing) back to 8)
Aside : 30 September is my birthday, and 1 October is the AFL Grand Final, the equivalent of the Superbowl except that it is entertaining and a genuine athletic contest. The point is, that posting may well be spotty over the next couple of days. I hope Lone Wolf can survive without our collective attention.
Stats : CS : 17, E : 8, GC 39
Weapons : NIL
Backpack : Meal
Special Items : Map, Crystal Star, Shield (+2 to CS), Seal of Hammerdal
Final paragraph : 150