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Pathways
ATTENTION! IMPORTANT! READ THIS FIRST! This is not a normal story, so if you don't read this first you will be completely lost!
Okay. This is an unusual kind of story. You don't just read it beginning to end like a normal story. Rather, you get to make decisions throughout the story which affect the way it develops. There are thirty possible endings in all! Now, this explanation gets a little complicated, but you're all very bright so I'm sure you'll figure it out just fine.
As you read, you will come across choices, where you, the reader, get to decide what happens next. If this were a book, it would be like this: to do this, turn to page 17, to do that, turn to page 24. The problem is, since this is a website, we don't have paper pages. So we have to do something a little different.
After each "choice" is a short, two-digit code. This is the "page" you have to turn to. So how do you go there? To do this, bring up the "search" or "find" feature on your browser (for Internet Explorer, it's Ctrl + F). Then just type in the two-digit code with an x in front of it and hit Search, and then you can continue on with the story. Don't forget the x, it's important!
Here's a quick example. Say you came to a decision like this:
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Go to the castle. m4
Go to the village. p8
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So, if you wanted to go to the castle, just bring up your Find feature, type in xm4 (again, don't forget the x!) and do a search. Your browser will find xm4, and you can close the search window, scroll down, and get on with the story!
One final, quick note. If you finish the story and decide you want to start over reading it from the very beginning (so you can try out different decisions) simply return to the top of the story (right here, basically) and click once in the browser window, then begin again as normal. The reason I suggest clicking in the window is that it resets the Find function to the top again. Pretty simple.
Hopefully that wasn't too confusing. So, enough explanation - enjoy the story!
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Choose your race.
Human. a1
Elf. b7
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Choose your gender.
Male. a2
Female. c8
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Choose your gender.
Male. b8
Female. e8
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You are a knight. You live in peaceful times, yet you crave adventure, so you have asked your king for permission to set out alone in search of opportunities to prove yourself. He has agreed to this - so here you are, sword and shield at your side, protected by chain mail and riding a white horse away from the safety of your castle, now far behind you. You have entered a forest; ahead, the path splits. One path is dark, overgrown with thorns and shadow, while the other appears fair and pleasant - yet your knightly instincts warn you to expect danger on both paths.
What will you do?
Take the lighter path. a3
Take the darker path. b3
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You take the lighter path. Sunshine streams down between the branches of the trees above; birds sing to each other from perches out of view. It is a pleasant day. You are beginning to think there is no adventure for you here, when suddenly the sound of rustling foliage catches your ear. You whirl to look behind you, and there you see a blond-haired woman of perhaps thirty years, dressed in the colors of the forest. What catches your attention, however, is the bow she has aimed at your chest.
"Oh, a knight, is it?" she says. "This must be my lucky day. You boys from the castle have so much gold it's a wonder your armor isn't coated in it. Hand it over - everything - and don't even think about using your little knife there," she adds, referring to your broadsword.
What will you do?
Fight her. a4
Try to reason with her. a7
Give her everything she wants. b2
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Your muscles tense in preparation for combat, but your experience in battle warns you that simply drawing your sword would be suicide - so you try a slightly different strategy instead. You reach for the small sack of coins at your side, heft it once, and toss it to her lightly. For a split-second, as she reaches to catch it, her eyes leave you. With lightning reflexes, you pull out your shield. The sudden movement catches her attention and she shoots instinctively, the sack falling to the ground beside her, but the arrow buries itself your shield. Unharmed, you leap off your horse and dash towards her, sword in hand. She curses, drops the bow, and darts into the forest.
What will you do?
Run after her. a5
Let her go. a6
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You give chase, but she - lighter, unburdened by armor, and more familiar with the terrain - quickly outdistances you. Before long she is out of sight. With a sigh, you make your way back to the road - only to discover the would-be robber sitting on your horse! She gives you a mischevious wink and gallops off into the distance, leaving you behind in a cloud of dust.
There is nothing for you to do but pick up your sack of gold and her bow, both of which she has left behind in her haste, and continue along the road on foot. At least, you think, she did not get the gold which was her original target. And besides, a quest without a horse will be more challenging and offer more opportunities to prove yourself. Yes, that's it...
THE END
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Although it irks you to let her get away, you decide not to give chase. Instead you take your gold and her bow and get back on your horse. Not a victory to boast about to other knights, perhaps, but a victory nonetheless. You really will have to speak to the local constable about cracking down on thieves in this area...
THE END
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"Miss," you say, "you seem like an intelligent young woman. Why would you want to rob me? Is there something you need? Perhaps I can help you."
"Who are you calling young?" she demands. "And intelligent!" She spits. "This for that! What I need is for you to give me that sack of gold you've got there, and your horse and everything else you've got besides. And make it quick!"
"Miss -" you try again.
"MISS!" she explodes. "You close your mouth! One more word and I swear I'll put an arrow through your brain and take it all myself! I swear!" She certainly seems serious.
What will you do?
Keep trying to reason with her. a8
Give her everything she wants. b2
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"Listen," you continue, "can't we work something out? I don't think -"
"You don't think much, do you?" she shrieks, and you notice her muscles tensing as if preparing to shoot. Instinctively you duck your head and roll out of the saddle and onto the ground, away from her, just as an arrow whizzes through the space you'd occupied a second ago. She curses and reaches for another arrow, but you are on your feet and closing fast. In desperation she tosses the bow aside and produces a knife, but your sword is already drawn. It is no contest. She drops her weapon, and you put the point of your blade to her throat. Trying to breathe as little as possible, she looks up at you expectantly.
"This way," you tell her, prodding her towards your horse. "There. Now, face down, on the ground." She obeys, and you take a coil of rope from your pack. You bind her wrists behind her back, then help her back up. You examine her thoughtfully. "What am I going to do with you? Turn you in to the constable, I suppose."
"No! Please!" she begs, her attitude suddenly transformed. "He'll put me to working in the mines. I won't get out 'til I'm fifty. Or what if they hang me!" You find the latter highly unlikely for a crime like robbery, but there is fear in her eyes. "Please!"
What will you do?
Turn her in. a9
Let her go. b1
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"The mines," you say. "Well - sounds like you're going to be busy for a while."
Her eyes widen and she becomes increasingly more frantic, pleading with you to reconsider, but you are unmoved. You know she would have been willing to kill you for your gold. You manage to get her on your horse, and you take her to the constable, who is grateful to you for apprehending her - it seems she is a well-known criminal in this area and has committed several murders as well. Now you understand her fear; although it will be up to a local court to decide her case, she will probably be hanged. But you have no time for such matters; the open road lies ahead. You continue on the adventure of knighthood and seldom think of her again.
THE END
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"Well," you say, "I suppose there's been no harm done. I won't turn you in and I can't keep you forever, but before I let you go I need some assurance you won't try this again. Swear to me that you will never again turn to crime. Swear... on the Bear and the Blade."
She hesitates for a moment in the face of such a strong oath but reluctantly agrees, swearing as you have asked. You study her face; she seems sincere, but of course it is impossible to know for certain. No matter. You search her for additional weapons but find none; so, confiscating her knife and bow, you cut her bonds and set her free. She gives you a grateful smile and makes her way into the woods and out of sight.
As you continue down the road, you wonder idly whether it was the right choice. Will she keep her oath? You realize you will probably never know.
THE END
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"All right," you tell her, "calm down, you can have whatever you want."
"I want it all," she snaps. "Get off the horse. Slowly. That's it. Put your hands over your head. Drop your weapons... back away... and your armor. Put it all in a pile there. Good boy. Step back over there and sit down." She picks up your gear and sets it on the horse, then looks back to examine you again. "Your broach too, there's some gold on that... and the gloves... and the belt. Quick!" She glances back down the road. "Okay, let's see... Your clothes." She gives you a mischevious grin. "I suppose you can keep those. For being such a good boy. All right." She leaps on your horse. "Best of luck to you!" she calls, galloping off.
You know you will not be able to survive many adventures in this condition, so there is nothing left to do but go to the last village you passed five miles back and try to find a servant of the king to help you. This is not going to look good on the official records.
THE END
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You urge your steed down the darker path. It is not long before the trail becomes so overgrown with branches and brambles that you are forced to dismount and lead your horse on foot. The trail turns upward, and after half a mile you suddenly come upon a great clearing. Here there is no life that you can see, only sand and broken rock. A dark haze fills the air. On the far end of the clearing is a small, rugged cliff; you see what looks like the entrance to a cave there.
You walk a few steps into the cave and notice a faint light up ahead. As you get closer, the light grows and you detect a growing warmth in the air, accompanied by the smell of smoke. You reach a large chamber, and what you see there sends chills down your spine: a sleeping dragon.
It is young by the looks of it, not yet fully grown, but still over seven meters in length. More than a match for any human in a fair fight. You know that dragons have been a serious problem in the area recently, and slaying this one would most likely be a great boon to the countryside; historically they have been nothing but trouble. Yet you know of nothing this dragon specifically has done wrong, and you feel vaguely uncomfortable with the idea of killing a sleeping and possibly innocent creature.
What will you do?
Leave the cave. b4
Announce yourself to the dragon. b5
Kill the dragon before it wakes up. b6
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In the face of a dangerous situation, you choose what seems to be the only safe alternative: you leave. But as you lead your horse back into the forest and away from peril, you cannot help but wonder whether you have only postponed dealing with a problem which someone else will later have to solve.
THE END
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You stand in front of the great beast, palms outward, in order to appear as nonthreatening as possible. "Dragon!" you cry. Its eyes, bright gold, flash open. "My name is -" But the dragon, jaws wide, quick as lightning, unleashes a roaring spout of fire in your direction. It is the last thing you ever see; the flames incinerate you instantly.
THE END
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You draw your sword. Your heart pounds as you consider what you are about to do - if the dragon hears you and wakes up...
You force the terror down. Part of the key to courage is not thinking about the danger. You tiptoe quietly. Closer... closer... the acrid stench of smoke lies heavy in the air. You are standing right next to its massive, scale-encrusted head. There is no turning back now. You raise your blade and bring it down with all the strength you have across its pale neck.
The result is almost anticlimactic. Your steel slices clean through, and the dragon never even moves. It is dead. You are victorious! Adventure, indeed - your king will be most pleased.
THE END
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You are a young woman, the daughter of a merchant, but trade and the niceties of diplomacy hold no interest for you. You are a treasure hunter. You travel the world looking for gold, jewels, ancient manuscripts, enigmatic relics - anything that might be of value.
Today you are investigating rumors of some mysterious treasure in the area, and your journeys have led you to the legendary River of Fire. It is a gorge, narrow but very deep, through which snakes a continuous current of liquid flame. A stone bridge arches over the chasm. It looks stable, so you begin to cross. As you reach the the middle, curiosity compels you to look down over the edge. You are fascinated by the ever-shifting eddies and vortices of the bubbling fire. Of course, falling into the river would mean certain death; of that there is no doubt whatsoever.
What will you do?
Continue crossing the bridge to the other side, like any sane person would do. d1
Leap over the edge into absolutely certain death, for no reason. c9
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You leap over the edge and plummet into the flames. You die instantly.
Why would you do something like this?
THE END
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You cross to the other side in safety.
Once there, you find yourself looking north, out over a vast plain of ankle-high grass. The only visible landmarks are a large gray boulder to the northwest, and what appears to be - oddly enough - a solitary grove of tall trees in the midst of the flat land to the northeast. You are trying to decide which way to go next when a wizened old man hobbles up behind you; you have no idea where he came from. His hazelnut eyes gleam at you dully through withered sockets as he cackles a gleeful laugh. "You are very tall," he rasps, looking up at you.
"Er - thank you," you answer, uncertain how to respond. "Could you tell me -"
"Play a game with me!" he shouts. His left eyebrow is twitching at an alarming rate.
"I'm actually rather busy at the moment -"
"I...have two stones!" he announces, pulling a black stone and a white stone from a small satchel at his side. He holds them up, one in each hand; they are small and well-polished. "Play a game with me! Either pick...the black stone...or...the white stone! But!" His eyes widen to incredible proportions, then he blinks significantly. "Based on the stone you choose, I will decide your path! So! Do not choose lightly! Now...choose your stone!"
This old man is very strange. You have no idea whether he is trustworthy.
What will you do?
Agree to play the game and pick the black stone. d2
Agree to play the game and pick the white stone. d7
Refuse to play the game. e5
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"All right," you sigh. "I pick the black one."
"Eh?"
"The BLACK one!"
"Oh! The black stone! You picked the black stone! Oh hoo! Ah hoo hoo ha hehehe hahahahaha heheheh hahaha awoohoohoohoohoo! Black it is then, black indeed black indeed! Awohoohoohoo! Hee hee!" You sigh again. You are starting to get annoyed by his babbling. "All right!" he continues. "If black is your choice, then you must go...to the rock!" He points to the northwest, at the boulder you saw earlier. "Treasure indeed for you there! Woohooha! Now go, quickly!" And with that he sits down cross-legged on the ground and closes his eyes.
Well, you might as well do as he says; one direction is as good as another anyway. To the boulder, then.
It is a long walk, but at last you make it to the huge monolith. It is even bigger than you'd imagined. As you approach, you notice a stone statue of a warrior over three meters tall, complete with stone plate mail and a huge stone broadsword in each hand. It is incredibly realistic. But what catches your eye is the chest sitting at his feet. It is filled to the brim with gold and glittering jewels!
You are shocked and overjoyed, but you realize there is so much here that you will not be able to carry it back on your own; the chest will be far too heavy. You will have to come back with a pack horse. Yet the treasure is so beautiful. What if someone else finds it while you are gone? You have to just leave it here, but since you have no choice, perhaps you should take some of it with you now - just in case it is not here when you return. Surely a pocket full of emeralds is much better than nothing!
What will you do?
Go find a horse immediately. d3
Take some of the treasure with you, then go find a horse. d4
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You turn to leave, but an odd noise catches your ear. It sounds almost like...crying? You turn around and stare in utter amazement. The stone statue is sitting on the grass, sobbing. It moved! It's still moving! How is this possible?
"What's wrong?" you ask after a moment. It seems only polite.
"You wouldn't understand," it sniffles. Its voice is deep, a loud booming that resonates as if coming from the very earth, but it is unmistakably a sniffle. "Just go home." You are so stunned that you can only stand and stare. After a moment it looks up at you. "The treasure!" it shouts, and the sound carries such force that you are knocked backward a step. "It's enchanted, see? That's the whole idea. It's a trap! The treasure's rigged, see, magically, and when you touch it I get to wake up all of a sudden and bash your head in. I wake up, see, when you touch the treasure. But you didn't touch it!"
"But you're awake," you observe.
"But that's not the point," it insists. "It didn't work right. I've been waiting two hundred years for someone to come and touch this treasure so I could wake up and bash his head in, and here finally you come along and you don't even touch it! And what kind of stone monster would I be if I bashed your head in now? I'll probably have to wait another two hundred years before someone even crosses the bridge again, much less chooses the black stone."
"Actually, I was going to come right back in a day or so with a horse," you tell it. "I would've touched it, but it was too much to carry all at once. If you just wait a while I can come back and touch it, and you can bash my head in then."
"It wouldn't be the same," it says mournfully, giving a heavy sigh. "Who am I kidding? I've never even bashed in anyone's head, ever. It's never going to happen. The last person that came, by the time I woke up they'd already run off screaming. I'm a failure. You might as well just take the treasure and go."
"That's very kind," you tell it - it seems to brighten at the compliment - "but as I said, I don't have a horse."
"I could carry it for you!" the statue offers. "I'm good at carrying things - that's how I brought the chest here in the first place. I'm very strong." You don't doubt it. "Say, maybe this would be fun. Can I carry it for you, Miss? I could take it wherever you wanted, and carry anything else you need! That would be so much better!"
"I...well, sure! Okay! It's a deal!" It seems incredibly pleased and picks up the chest for you. The two of you make your way back to the nearest city together. You are not sure exactly what you will do next, but for now, the future looks bright.
You got your treasure, and you made a lonely stone giant happy. Don't you just feel better about yourself already?
THE END
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You reach forward to scoop some of the gold and gems into a pocket, but just as your hand touches one of the coins, the earth beneath your feet rumbles and a deafening roar knocks you backward. You look up and see the impossible - the statue is moving! It opens its eyes and looks directly at you, then swings one of its stone blades in your direction. You roll aside automatically, and the sword buries itself in the ground where you were sitting. You are on your feet instantly; your only weapon, a long knife, is in your hand. As you watch the giant attempt to dislodge its weapon, you weigh your options.
At the moment, only two come to mind: you can either run or try to fight. The latter seems almost ridiculous - what can you possibly do against a creature made of solid rock? - but you hate to give up on the treasure so easily.
What will you do?
Run. d5
Fight. d6
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You take off at a dead sprint toward the bridge, escaping the statue easily, and you do not stop until you are back on the other side of the River of Fire. You do not see the old man again.
You stop to catch your breath and assess the situation. No, you did not get the treasure, but you are alive, and there are plenty of other mysteries to explore. No doubt you will have many more exciting adventures in the future. Just at the moment, however, you do not even want to think about gold.
THE END
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You vow to find some way to defeat this monster. It seems invincible, but already you are noticing its weaknesses; for one thing, it seems very slow and not particularly agile. It has only now gotten its weapon back out of the ground. Also, you find yourself wondering how intelligent a stone warrior could be. It lumbers after you, but you dodge easily. Another sword swing - this time through the air - but it misses by nearly a meter. Your mind races as you search for ways to attack this behemoth, but no ideas come to you.
The "battle" has raged on for over a minute now with neither of you scoring a blow, and it seems clear that the giant is becoming increasingly furious. You find yourself with your back to the boulder as he launches, roaring, into a headlong charge in your direction. You leap aside at the last second, and with a thundering crack the statue collides with the boulder. It shatters into several pieces and is still.
Well. That was certainly convenient.
You fill your pockets with gold and set off in search of a horse. The next day you return and take the chest home with you. Not a bad reward for the amount of effort it took!
THE END
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"Very well," you tell him. "White."
"What's that, now?"
"WHITE!"
"Oh ahahahaha! Awoooohoohoohoo! Oh well then! White it is, white it is! Heheheheeheeheehee! Oh, a white stone for you, darling! Heeheehee! Yes, glory good! Wonder well! Picked the white one, you did, yes! Well! Ahaha ahem!" He clears his throat. "Now! You must go...to the trees!" He points to the grove you saw earlier and collapses on the ground in laughter.
The grove it is, then. What a bizarre old man.
After a long walk, you reach the trees. They are evergreens, mostly, and very tall. In the center you discover a small, still pond that is almost perfectly circular. Intrigued, you come closer and run your fingers through the cool water. When you try to remove your hand, though, you find you can't! The water sticks to your hand as you pull on it, like rubber. Stunned, you continue trying to free your hand, but to no avail. It's as if the pond were made of glue! You dare not put any other part of your body into the water, and you think with horror of what might have happened had you tried to swim in this stuff. Luckily, that was not the case - but what will you do now?
Suddenly a small, winged fairy flutters into view. She is only a few centimeters tall, but, clothed in a shimmering white dress, she is very beautiful. She makes a soft sound as she flies, like wind chimes. You smile at seeing such a marvelous creature - but her own smile tells a different story. "Poor dear," the fairy says in a voice like air, but her tone is anything but sympathetic.
"You did this to me!" you shout at her.
"Oh, very good," she answers. "Aren't you just the brightest little button in the set. I'm sure your husband will devastated if you don't come home."
"I'm not married," you tell her in annoyance.
"Now there's a surprise," she answers. Perfect. A sarcastic fairy.
"What do you want from me?"
"Your soul!" she intones in a ridiculous imitation of a voice that is, perhaps, supposed to be terrifying. She erupts into peals of laughter. "Ooooh, I love doing that! No no, dearest, actually your soul is one thing I hope you keep locked away in your nasty little body. No, actually all I need from you is one of your eyeballs. Hm...the left one will do nicely, I think." She fixes an earnest stare on you for a few seconds, then falls into another giggling fit.
"What do you want!" you growl.
"Oh, dear me!" she answers. "Try to guess! It will be so much more fun!"
What will you do?
Play along with her. d8
Ignore her and concentrate on trying to escape. e4
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"Okay," you answer, forcing the fury out of your voice. To your surprise, you sound almost pleasant. It is not easy. "I'll try. But I don't know much about what fairies want, really."
"Oh, this ought to be good, then!" she cackles.
"Hm...maybe you want...my shoes?" you suggest, saying the first thing that comes to mind.
She only laughs again. "Shoes!"
"Or perhaps a lock of my hair?"
She laughs even harder. "Your hair! Yes, I might want some of that!" She is certainly an excitable little creature.
"A drop of my blood?" you continue. "A bit of string? Or maybe you really do want my soul! Or a twig, how about a twig?" Her tiny body is shaking with uncontrollable laughter. "Perhaps one of my earrings? Or maybe - MY HAT!" You finish with a shout just as you whip off your cap and bring it down over her, snatching the little fairy up inside it. You hold it tightly as she kicks around desperately inside.
"Keep laughing, gnat," you growl at her.
After a little more struggling, there is a short silence, and then you hear her voice again. "All right, let her go!" she squeaks. Your hand promptly comes free, and the water appears to be normal water once more. You back away from the edge of the pool hastily. "Now let me out of here!"
What will you do?
Let her go. d9
Keep her inside the hat. e1
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"All right, get out of here," you say, releasing her. She immediately flies out and away from you.
"Hag," she says scornfully and disappears.
You sigh. So much for gratitude. Or treasure, for that matter. Well, there are other places to look. Maybe you will find something someday.
THE END
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"Forget it," you say. "Why should I let you go? You weren't about to release me. I think I'll keep you as a pet for a while."
"Please!" she shouts. "Please, I'm so sorry! I didn't want to do this! A...a wizard put a spell on me! Please, if you let me go I'll give you something wonderful! Oh please! I'm really sorry, I couldn't help it! Oh, don't keep me in here, I'll die!" Something wonderful? As a treasure hunter, you are of course intrigued by her promise - but can she be trusted? After all, a live fairy is quite a treasure in itself!
What will you do?
Let her go. e2
Keep her inside the hat. e3
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"All right," you say, opening the hat for her to escape. "Now let's see this wonderful thing of yours."
"Idiot," she says and flies out of sight.
You are furious, of course, but there is nothing you can do. Maybe you will have better luck treasure-hunting another day.
THE END
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"Let you go?" you say, incredulous. "Now why would I do a thing like that?"
"I told you!" she shrieks piteously. "I'll give you -"
"Something wonderful, yes," you answer smugly. "But I already have something wonderful right here. I wonder what price a real live fairy will fetch at a museum."
"A museum!" she howls. "Locked away behind glass while people come and gawk at me? Held up forever like some animal? Please, you musn't!"
"Held against your will," you answer, a smile on your face. "How awful."
The museum, as it turns out, is willing to pay quite a lot for her. You whistle a happy tune as you walk out, gold in hand. Treasure hunting is a wonderful thing.
THE END
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"Guess!" she taunts, but you ignore her. Her mindless chatter fades to a small corner of your mind as you focus on the problem at hand: escape.
The trap is a magical one; that much is clear. It is meant to trap objects that come in contact with the water. But you notice that the surface of the water is fairly clean; it is not cluttered with twigs and bark and dead insects as one would expect from a trap that catches anything the water touches. So the trap distinguishes somehow - it has a way of telling living from nonliving.
Of course, the really first-rate magical traps - the ones a wizard might make, for example - could pick human from nonhuman or even male from female and react accordingly by virtue of their superior craftsmanship. But for something small like this - something a fairy would make - you guess that the answer is simpler, that the trap is not quite so perfect. How would a mischevious pixie with a secondhand knowledge of spells go about making a trap to catch only living things?
You take a deep breath and hold it.
Ten seconds go by...twenty...thirty...a whole minute. But suddenly, just as you are about to give up, your hand comes free. You were right - breathing was the key! The spell, thinking you were dead, released you.
You look up. The fairy is gone, so there is no one to hear you gloat, but you are very pleased with yourself anyway. You don't have any treasure, but the glow of personal satisfaction which surrounds you makes up for it. And, after all, you can always find gold another day.
THE END
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"Listen," you say, not unkindly, "I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this. I have places to go. No games for me."
To your surprise, the old man only shrugs. "Some people don't want to play the game," he says. "You don't have to! But you never know, do you? What could happen? Aweeheehee!"
You shake your head and begin walking due north. Who knows what you'll find?
For a long time, you find nothing but grass. Minutes turn to hours and the sun begins to make its way toward the horizon, and still there is nothing to see. You are beginning to consider turning back when suddenly you notice a dark shape in the distance. As you come closer, you realize it is a stone building of some sort. Vast pillars support an archway over the stairs to the entrance. You reach the building and climb the stairs to discover a huge room inside - the ceiling is at least fifteen meters high! But your attention is drawn not to the walls or the vaulted ceiling, but to the focal point of the room - a short marble pillar supporting a small platform of pure gold.
You walk up to the platform and examine it - and what you see takes your breath away. There, in the middle of the golden rectangle, is the Wand of Ecsaleth. The ruby handle - the flexible willow body - the pyrite tip, a delightful irony - the design is unmistakable. The Wand of Ecsaleth. Anything it touches turns to gold!
What will you do?
Take the wand. e6
Leave it there. e7
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You reach out to take the wand - but it is the last thing you ever see, because the moment your fingers touch it, you are transformed into solid gold. At least it is a painless death.
Anything it touches turns to gold!
THE END
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You turn around and leave. Something tells you it would be best to leave this treasure alone.
You walk out of the temple empty-handed but strangely pleased - you feel somehow as if you have made a very wise choice. Perhaps there is nothing for you here. There will be other chances to find other things. For now, you are going to find an inn somewhere and forget about temples and rivers of fire for a night or two, at least.
THE END
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You are the king of a proud and ancient people; you have lived for over ninety years, but there is not a hint of gray in your hair. Your subjects know you as a leader of remarkable courage and dignity. Your wife, the queen, is a remarkable woman - beautiful, compassionate, and incredibly intelligent. In ordinary times, you might well be very happy here.
You look at your wife; she is pacing the floor, muttering to herself. Troubled. As you are troubled.
These are not ordinary times.
War is upon you. Your neighbors to the west, the Elves of the Obsidian Plains, have brought it to you, into your streets, your houses, your fields. Their previous monarch died only a few months ago, and the new one has wasted no time in seeking opportunities to expand his borders.
The war is by now nearly over, and your own victory is near-certain, but victory is not the issue. Every battle comes with a price; every day the conflict continues is paid for in blood. Your foes know as well as you that they will be defeated, but pride urges them on - pride, and the hope of taking a small territory of yours, Imminai, near the border. They hope to make the cost of defending it so high as to make your victory worse than defeat; they are betting that fear of this fate will force you to retreat.
Perhaps they are right.
Skirmishes still linger here and there, but only one real battle remains: the battle for Imminai. This is where the enemy has concentrated the strength of what force it still retains; this is the question that keeps your wife awake at night. Hard choices lie ahead, and the road will not be smooth for anyone.
The battle has not yet begun; the time for that decision has not yet come. But another, more immediate matter weighs on you at the moment. Will you command the war, in safety, from your throne - or will you command the battle, as a captain of your men, in Imminai? Your courage is not in question, but the fate of your kingdom hangs in the balance.
What will you do?
Stay in your palace and command the entire war without fear of peril. b9
Go to Imminai and command the battle there as one of your army. c5
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You decide you can best serve your nation by staying here. Over the next few days, your commands, coordinating the actions of your troops on all fronts, hasten many victories and save many lives. For a while you are able to lose yourself in the countless details of managing war, but the time you spend playing general can only distract; it does not delay the inevitable decision.
At last the hour arrives. Your messengers all tell you the same thing: your foes will not surrender. They are prepared to die. Their captains are steadfast. The time of their invasion is near; the time of your decision has come. You may have peace, or you may keep Imminai; you cannot have both. Your own people favor a complete victory; your soldiers, you know, are willing to give up their lives.
Are you willing to let them?
What will you do?
Surrender Imminai to the Obsidian Plains. c1
Fight to protect all of your land. c4
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You issue the order: fall back. Fall back. Do not defend Imminai. The messengers assigned to carry the order stare back at you in disbelief. They do not understand. Your field captains obey. They surrender Imminai; they do not understand. The enemy commanders are pleased, but the foot soldiers enter their newly conquered territory suspiciously. They think it is a trap. They do not understand. When your people hear the news, they are angry. They stage protests outside your palace and call you oktum. Coward. They do not understand. You look out the window, across the dusk-faded image of your sunlit land. Your wife comes up behind you and stands at your side in silence. You glance at her, and she offers a small smile. She, at least, understands.
You do not ask whether she agrees. You don't know what the answer would be.
The protests grow more frequent, the protesters more vehement. Anger stirs across the countryside. Growing tension arises between those still loyal to you and those who would see a different leader in your place - a "stronger" leader. Civil war becomes a possibility. It occurs to you that all this could be avoided by your resignation - another surrender to pacify another conflict. The idea is repulsive to you, just as giving up Imminai was repulsive to you, but perhaps it is for the best. Perhaps.
What will you do?
Resign from authority. c2
Remain as king. c3
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The announcement is made, and a replacement is found for you - someone even younger than you, someone who stands for action and progress (his words, actually). And yet, for a time, you are happy. The onus of leadership is staggering, but its real weight only sinks in after it is removed. The lack of responsibility is almost welcome - and then it happens.
You should have seen it coming, you tell yourself, but hindsight is no comfort. The new king, not yet sure of himself and eager to unify the people, gives the order to retake Imminai. A bold move, they call it. The people are happy. Even the soldiers, many of them marching to their doom, appear pleased. The move is successful; the battle is fought; the land is retaken; the blood is shed; the king is lauded. And you are still oktum.
Life, as always, is not fair.
THE END
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No, you decide, you will not resign. Let fate deal what cards it will; you are king, and king you will remain.
Tensions continue building, but civil war does not come as you had feared. Your people are united by a strong heritage. They are not easily broken. In time, they come to accept what you have done - they do not agree with it, but they accept it. Present becomes past. Maps are redrawn. The people of Imminai accept their new ruler, who is in his own time eventually replaced. Time plods onward as it always does.
Yet you never forget your decision. It fades, but it never goes away. Every time the name Imminai is mentioned, you wonder - was it the right choice?
History does not answer.
THE END
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You give the order to defend Imminai. The battle goes as planned; you are victorious. Hundreds of your own men die, and thousands of the enemy. One of your captains, a good friend of yours, is killed. But you are victorious, and the people of Imminai are safely under your reign. The war is over. There are celebrations in the streets.
As you walk through the graveyard, you tell yourself it was worth it.
THE END
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You decide to go to Imminai yourself and stand alongside your soldiers.
When you tell your wife, she seems upset but not surprised. There are no tears in her eyes as you kiss her goodbye, but she holds you longer than normal. You tell her you will return, and she nods.
It is time to go.
You ride to the front lines, where you are welcomed by your men. It is a great boost to morale - but it is short-lived. The next day a small force departs from the enemy camp demanding parley. You send out a force of equal size to see what they want; when they return, their news is terrible.
The enemy has captured one of your best captains; he is an excellent commander and a good personal friend of yours. They are holding him hostage with the promise of releasing him only if you surrender Imminai unconditionally to them. You have one hour to decide.
There is no doubt that they actually have him, unfortunately. You are told they brought him out personally, bound and gagged but apparently unharmed and still wearing an expression of dignity. The question is what to do; you consider the matter carefully. There is no doubt, of course, as to what your friend would say if he were here - forget about me, go ahead and fight. But you cannot dismiss his life so easily. Of course, there is a fair chance that they will not actually kill him if you don't answer in an hour. A dead hostage, after all, is no good to anyone. On the other hand, if you fight, he will certainly be slain in retribution. If you fight, hundreds will likely die anyway; what is one more? Yet his captivity may be an opportunity; it could offer a politically acceptable way for you to retreat, which you had been considering anyway. It seems unlikely they will kill him if you do retreat - killing him would only provoke an enemy that diplomacy had already subdued.
It is a complex situation, and it is a decision no one should have to make. But you have to make it. Delay will not help; you will have to decide sooner or later. One or the other.
What will you do?
Defend Imminai. c7
Surrender Imminai to the invaders. c6
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"I can't do it," you say, shaking your head. "I can't kill him and countless others just so we can hang on to a territory on the border. We've fought enough already." There are murmurs of surprise, but your men accept this. They are used to obeying you; you are king. Your army falls back under a white flag.
The enemy does relinquish your captain, as promised; when he comes into your tent, you rise, smiling, to greet him. He does not smile back.
"You had no right," he tells you coldly, and he leaves.
You sigh. Elves - like humans - leap for death whenever the opportunity arises. Well. You had not expected gratitude. At least he is alive. They all are.
So much for Imminai.
THE END
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You look around you, at the faces of your captains. Grim. As they should be. "We will do what we came for," you tell them, "whatever the cost." They nod. It is what they expected to hear.
You do not tell your enemy of your decision. There is no reason; each second you delay is another second your captain has to attempt escape. It is a dim hope, an unlikely hope, but there is no reason to squander it. Your allotted hour ends, and you give no answer. As you predicted, they do not kill him right away. He is more useful alive.
But he does not escape, and his use to them ends two days later. That is the day they attack; that is the day he dies.
The battle is as battles always are: chaos. Death. Blood. Fear. You survive. The battle ends as you knew it must: you are victorious. Imminai is yours. Its people are safely under your reign.
As you stand at his funeral, you tell yourself it was worth it.
THE END
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You are an Elven woman, wise, graceful, with an appearance of delicacy but a will of iron. You are a minstrel - not a traveling entertainer, but a singer at the imperial court. Your songs are legendary for their beauty and lyrical simplicity. You are well-respected across the land.
Today you stand to the left of the emperor, scanning the throne room idly. You wonder if your skills will be required today...
Suddenly four guards enter with a...a...can it be? Shocked gasps are audible throughout the room. Yes, you think, your skills will most definitely be needed.
They have come with a human.
"My lord!" one of the guards calls, kneeling briefly. The current emperor is not one for ceremony. "We captured this human inside our borders near the eastern gate. He was not armed."
You study the man. He appears frightened and confused. That is no surprise; humans, you are aware, believe themselves the only sentient species. As Elves once did, long ago. And now this. A pretty little puzzle.
"What have you to say, human?" the emperor demands. "How came you to this land?"
The man looks around for a moment, noticing the sudden silence. He seems to realize a response is expected and launches into an incoherent string of babbling. The human language.
"No use, my lord," the guard says. "Not a word you can understand." And no Elf alive who speaks the language. A pretty puzzle indeed.
"Though his speech is unintelligible to me," the emperor says, "I think I understand him well enough. His mere presence tells the story; a human has wandered into Elven lands. An explorer, perhaps, or just a lost traveler. The law is clear, certainly; he must be put to death. But the law is not always the answer. Needless death is something I avoid if I can. Of course, he cannot be allowed to live among us" - the legends are clear on what followed the last time that was allowed to happen - "but perhaps he could be sent back to his own people, if we can convey to him somehow that he must never speak of what he has seen. And if he is trustworthy. Humanity cannot learn of our existence."
Debate follows, but in the end you realize it will probably come down to your own voice. For that is what you are: an advisor. A minstrel, yes - among your kind, the terms are synonymous. The songs you sing govern the affairs of the entire nation. There are those who argue that you have more real power than the emperor himself. There are those who fear you, very much.
At last all eyes rest on you. It is your decision. Put this man to death, and keep the kingdom whole - or let him live and set him free, risking the devastation that could follow should he tell the world of your existence?
What will you do?
Sing a song of life. f4
Sing a song of death. e9
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You close your eyes, and your words weave and flow into the empty air. Even after all this time, they never get tired of hearing you sing. And it is wonderful, you admit to yourself. The human stares at you, enraptured by your beauty and the beauty of your voice. He has no idea he is listening to the sound of his doom.
Or perhaps he does. A cold light enters his eyes as he listens; it matches the frigidness of death that hangs on your notes. To you, it is almost palpable. Yes, perhaps he knows. You cannot help but pity him as they take him away.
With his death comes safety for your nation - safety from contact, from the violence and poison of touching another race. It was necessary, you repeat to yourself as you look out across the stars from high atop the castle hours later. Not pleasant - not fair - but necessary.
"Don't move," the voice behind you hisses, and, feeling the point of a knife against your back, you are inclined to obey. "Turn around. Slowly." You turn and see a tall, lean man whose face you do not recognize. He has a cloak wrapped around himself. He sneers at you.
"So here she is," he murmurs, looking you over carefully with a disgusted expression. "The singing goddess. Will you sing for me, goddess?"
"What do you want?" you ask carefully.
"The same thing you seem to think you can give everyone. Justice. Ever think about the people you murder when you dispense your justice from on high? Or does that not even bother you anymore? I would imagine you've about grown used to it by now, goddess. Well? You going to answer my question? Did it bother you to kill an innocent man?"
"Yes," you say truthfully. Your heart is pounding.
"Didn't stop you, though, did it?" He takes your hand and spits on it. "Of course not. Well, just one last thing then. An apology, goddess. Apologize for your sick little games. Tell me you're sorry. I want to hear it from you, from the same lips that have killed one man already today. APOLOGIZE!"
What will you do?
Apologize. f1
Refuse to apologize. f2
Don't say anything. f3
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You nod. "I'm sorry," you say, forcing feeling into your voice. "I apologize for what I did."
"Die sweet, then," he says, just before he kills you.
THE END
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"No," you say, "I won't apologize for doing what I think is right. I refuse."
"And that is all you have to say?" You nod curtly. He shrugs. "Out of my hands then." His knife flashes in the moonlight before drawing your final shriek.
THE END
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You don't say anything. He glares at you. "Well? What's it going to be?" You do not answer; you only look down. He grabs your chin and forces your face upward, but you do not look into his eyes. "Look at me!" You don't look up. You say nothing. "Look at me, wench! ANSWER ME!" he bellows. Nothing. With a roar, he hoists his knife high above his head to plunge into your chest - and falls dead with an arrow in him.
"My lady?" the guard says worriedly. "Are you all right?"
"Thanks to you," you say gratefully. "If not for you, I would be dead!"
His expression becomes stern. "I was suspicious of that man from the moment I saw him. A radical - he had the look of someone who may become dangerous. When I heard him shouting at you, I came closer - and when I saw the knife..."
"You saved my life. Thank you so much," you say again, giving him a kiss on the cheek. You are still trembling.
"Nothing of it," he smiles.
Back in your room, you lie on your bed, awake. Your nation, safe. You, yourself, safe. A murderer, dead. You should be happy. If only you could stop thinking about the man who died to make it possible...
THE END
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You close your eyes and spin the stuff of dreams into liquid enchantment for the world to hear. It overflows the brim of your voice and spills out, molten sunshine, the fabric of life made audible. The human stares at you in wonder.
He does not know you have spared him, and right at the moment he does not even care. He is in another place, looking at you.
Your advice is followed, as it nearly always is. He is taken away. Signs are made to him to communicate that he can reveal nothing of what he has seen, and he seems to understand and agree. Guides are brought for him, and they take him away, out through the twisted maze of forest and broken terrain that separates the Elves from humanity. And more signs are made to him - signs of death, for if he should return. Again, he seems to understand.
Your decision has earned you odd sidelong glances from others at court, those who think: she has abandoned this law. What others might she toss aside when they become inconvenient? Yet for the most part your choice is accepted as the salvation of a poor life who did not deserve to die.
A month later, a messenger storms into the palace. The news is not so good.
Eighteen more humans have been captured. All armed for war. All ready to conquer. The human told someone. An icy pit forms in your stomach.
There was a brief struggle, the messenger tells you - no Elves were injured, thankfully, though they were forced to kill one of the humans. They are now being held in prison, in eighteen separate cells, guarded night and day. The emperor grits his teeth. "They cannot live among us," he says. The decision of the court is nearly unanimous; the first one broke his word, these come armed for war, if we let them go there will only be others, and others, and others. If we kill these, no one will believe the first man; the humans will think their soldiers died in the wilderness and nothing more. If we let them go, it will be the end of us. That is what they are saying.
But the emperor, nonetheless, turns to you - and you cannot help but think that, even armed as they are, coming as they have, they are still innocent. They have done nothing wrong. Yet you cannot ignore the future, either.
What will you do?
Sing a song of life. f8
Sing a song of death. f5
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Shutting your eyes tightly, blocking out the light, you sing the song they expect to hear - the song you know is necessary. It begins soft and low, sweeps upward frantically, and drops at last like a tired sigh in the dust. It is not a pretty song, not for you, not now, singing it - but you sing it through to the end, and the emperor nods, and what needs to be done is done, and no more humans come.
It is night, now. Dark. You are in your room, but you are not asleep. Your mind wanders aimlessly over the infinite contours of Thought; your eyes stare ahead blankly. It is a little chilly, but the blankets of your bed will remedy that. It does look warm - inviting. Yet you are not all that tired.
You shiver suddenly.
What will you do?
Go to bed. f6
Go outside. f7
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You slip into bed gladly, shutting out the night in your mind. In moments you are asleep. Life is good once more.
You, at least, are alive.
THE END
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You shuffle up the spiral stone stairway and emerge on the castletop. You see the nightwatch guard, and he hails you with a smile, which you return. "What news?" you say.
His smile breaks. "Actually, my lady, something odd. We apprehended a fellow just an hour ago with a knife in his hand, sneaking towards your room. He hasn't admitted to anything yet, but we think it may have something to do with..."
"With the death song. Yes, I can't imagine that would make everyone happy. But regardless. You say you have him safely now? That is excellent! You do good work, do you know that?"
He breaks into a grin again. "Doing good work is my job, my lady. Good night, then."
"I'd never thought of it that way. Good night!"
As you walk away, the glow of companionship fades, and you are alone with the night once more. Your mind wheels softly. How many humans are there, all told? You wonder this, looking up at the stars. Thousands. Thousands and thousands of them. There - a bright cluster of stars. Twenty, perhaps - or maybe only eighteen. You put your fist up to the sky, blotting out their light in its silhouette.
The sky is still full of stars.
It isn't much, but it helps. A little. It was necessary, you repeat to yourself. Absolutely necessary. Perhaps now you can sleep.
Perhaps.
THE END
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You sing the entire song, but it only takes the first note to shock everyone.
"Life?" you hear them whisper. "She chose life? This is madness! Surely the emperor will not listen?"
But as the last note dies away, you look to him, and there is a faint smile on his lips. He nods imperceptibly. Perhaps he sees it, just a little, the same thing you do. Maybe. He nods again. The court falls into an uproar, but he backs your decision. They are released. Predictions of war and horror abound.
More humans come, and more, and the wall of separation is broken. War and horror come indeed. The war is brief, as wars go, but bloody - as wars tend to be. The Elves are victorious.
Time passes. Years pass and become centuries. Gradually, slowly, the fighting dies down and the hatred fades into history. More time passes. An alliance is formed. The two races live together, and the legends are wrong; catastrophe does not come. Still more time passes. And a thousand years after you first sang the song of life for an errant human, the combined armies of men and Elves drive back a new foe, only recently encountered, from beyond the mountains. A glorious victory. Amid all the revelry, only a few Elves stop to consider what their fate might have been without the humans at their side. Even fewer take time to think back to the decision and the song so long ago, and the relationship between the two events.
And of all those celebrating that day, you are perhaps the only one who thinks of the war and the horror and the turmoil, and wonders if it has been worth it.
THE END
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Main Category: 
Char
. Of course, I then went back and explored every possible option one by one, hehe. 
It's well done anyway, with very good descriptions; I especially like the fairy and the statue, hehe...
