choose your own adventure, episode 3

You decide that the situation calls for some authority. Specifically, your own as a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade. It is within your rights, and you’ve seen your father adjudicate disputes before. You can do the same.

You think.

“What is the meaning of this?” you say.

Father Linus clears his throat. “Sir knight, this is…”

“Run along, boy,” growl Ulacht, pointing at you with his club. “This is none of your concern. Get out of my sight, or I’ll take your horse and send you barefoot back to your father.”

You decide more persuasion is necessary.

You draw Heartwarden, the blue crystal in the blade’s tang flashing, and the orcs flinch in alarm, while Linus’s eyes grow wide. They recognize the weapon for what it is.

“I am Ridmark Arban,” you say, “son of the Dux Leogrance of Taliand, and a Knight of the Order of the Soulblade. Now. You will answer my questions.”

Both the priest and the headman look at each other, and then at you.

“What is the meaning of this?” you say again. “And for the love of God, talk one at a time.”

“I am the priest of the village of Victrix, sir knight,” says Linus. “Five of our children have disappeared in the last fortnight, and we believe that some from the orcish village of Rzoldur,” he glares at Ulacht, “have turned to the worship of the orcish blood gods and slain the children in their black rites.”

“Foolishness!” roars Ulacht. “Ulacht is the headman of Rzoldur, sir knight, and he tells you that we are good subjects of the High King and followers of his God! We leave the humans of Victrix alone!” He points at Linus. “But the humans, yes, the humans think they are so brave, and boast about slaying terrible orcs! Seven our Rzoldur’s children have disappeared in the last fortnight, and Ulacht thinks the humans have slain them!”

“By God and his saints!” you say, exasperated. “Did it not occur to you that this is the Northerland? There are creatures of dark magic and worse things in these forest, and they prey upon man and orc alike.” You wave a hand at the trees. “It’s only the Lord’s mercy that all this shouting has not drawn their attention.”

“Your pardon, Sir Ridmark,” says Linus, “but we are not fools. We know what the devils of the forest do. Perhaps even better than a nobleman’s son from the south. An urvaalg or a shadowmorph would devour its victims, leave blood and bones and a trail of carnage. Our children have simply disappeared, and I have no doubt that the orcs crept in under cover of darkness and kidnapped them!”

“Villain!” says Ulacht.

Both Ulacht and Linus begin shouting at each other in Latin, while the orcs grumble to each other in their own tongue and lift their weapons. You take a deep breath to shout them down…

…and then the ghastly shriek cuts through your ears like a spike stabbed into your brain.

Your horse rears in alarm, and you try to keep your saddle, but the pain spiking through your skull slows your reflexes, and your fall backwards off your horse. You get to one knee, and see Linus and Ulacht and the orcs covering their ears, and many of the orcs have blood streaming from their noses and ears.

The air behind the orcs ripples, and the blur resolves into a hideous, misshapen creature, a ghastly combination of ape and wolf. The thing is called an urvaalg, and the dark elves created them through the use of sorcery to serve as guardians. Centuries of warfare shattered the dark elven kingdoms – but urvaalgs still haunt the northern forest, and their piercing wails can disable even the strongest man.

The urvaalg shrieks again, and the orcs collapse as a spike of pain shoots through your head. You stagger to your feet, and the urvaalg stoops over the nearest orc and begins raking at its chest.

It’s going to crack his ribs and devour his heart.

Heartwarden thrums in your fist, the sword’s power beginning to awaken.

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