Re: "Prisioneros de los Piratas"
Publicado: 29-Abr-2022, 20:26
¿Somos buena gente? Somos buena gente, echemos una mano al erudito. No me caen bien los rufianes.
Foro de debate sobre el Proyecto Aon Español y la web Lobo Solitario Español, así como todo lo relacionado con el mundo de los libro-juegos
https://www.projectaon.org/es/foro3/
...el que te suspendió en Astrología y Predicción, y te vaticinó que "no ibas a llegar muy lejos"....le mandaste a tomar por viento, literalmente, con una ráfaga de aire, y por eso te expulsaron
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The elderly scholar makes another short-sighted lunge for his spectacles, only to trip over the outstretched leg of one of the ruffians and go sprawling. Their laughter is harsh and braying. The scholar gets to his feet and brushes the dust off his velvet robe. ‘Please…’ he says, almost in tears. ‘Give those back; I can’t see without them.’
If you want to use CUNNING, turn to 128. If you try STREETWISE, turn to 147. If you don’t have either of those skills, you will have to fight them – either with a sword (turn to 166), a pistol (turn to 185) or your bare hands (turn to 204).
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Pretending not to have noticed the three ruffians, you go up to the scholar and greet him like an old friend: ‘Ah, here you are! I’ve been searching high and low. Captain Skarvench has been most concerned for your safety.’
‘Eh..?’ says the scholar, peering at you with large watery eyes. ‘I don’t know—’ You hastily silence him with a poke between the ribs.
The ruffians are looking on nervously. ‘Um, did you say Skarvench?’ says one of them at last, a sickly half-smile curdling on his rough features. ‘Why, yes,’ you reply, turning as if noticing them for the first time. ‘This gentleman is his new ship’s surgeon. The captain’s been waiting for him to arrive in Selenice. Have you fellows been looking after him
That’s very gracious. Tell me your names – the captain may wish to reward you when he hears about this.’
There is the sound of three very audible gulps. ‘Er… think nothin’ of it,’ says one of the men, handing back the scholar’s spectacles. ‘We got to be goin’, ain’t we, lads?’ And they are out of the door in less time than it takes to drain a tot of rum.
Turn to 223.
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Putting his spectacles back on, the scholar gratefully shakes you by the hand. ‘This is a place for gentlemen of fortune, not gentlemen of letters,’ you tell him. ‘I recommend you head on to a lawful port as soon as possible.’
He shakes his head. ‘But I’ve travelled all the way from Glorianne in search of someone: the wizard William Wild.’
You nod. ‘I’ve heard of him. Why should you expect to find him here?’
‘I’m told he sailed for the colonies with Queen Titania. I left after they did, but my ship must have made better headway because it seems the Queen is still at sea and won’t reach the colonies for several weeks.’
‘It’s as you say, but you’re mistaken if you think they’ll put into port here. Selenice is not under Gloriannic rule.’ He flutters his hands impatiently. ‘I know that. But it occurs to me that Dr Wild’s half-brother, a man called Skarvench, might know where he’s bound.’
The others have come over to join you. ‘So Skarvench is half-brother to the Queen’s wizard!’ says Oakley with a whistle. ‘No doubt such news portends mischief.’
‘Why do you want to find Wild?’ Blutz asks the scholar.
‘He paid me to do some astronomical calculations for him. He wanted to know when a certain eclipse of the moon would occur, as apparently he had certain plans which would be disrupted if the eclipse happened too early. Well, I gave him the results, but after he sailed I double-checked my calculations and it turns out I made an error. I told Dr Wild the eclipse would be at two o’clock on midsummer night, but in fact it will be slightly earlier, at midnight.’
Note the codeword Horal. Assuring the scholar that you will deliver his message personally, you escort him to the harbour and put him aboard a ship bound for Glorianne. Turn to 374.
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You make your way to the eastern edge of town and along the boardwalk into the shipyard. Labourers scurry to and fro ignoring you, for it is their busiest season with the hurricane just a month away. A dozen ships lie here careened – raised up on dry land and tilted on one side so that repairs or routine maintenance can be carried out. The new vessels stand in stocks further back from the water’s edge, in varying degrees of construction. You see stacks of oak planks which are used for the hulls, and long straight pine poles that will become the masts.
The Master Shipbuilder, Kemp, emerges from his workshop and comes hurrying over. He is a spare-framed fellow with grey muttonchop whiskers around a face coloured red by harsh coast winds and
nips of brandy wine. ‘Greetings,’ he says. He is on the point of shaking hands when he remembers that his fingers are tarry from caulking the new ships. ‘Ah well. How can I help you?’
If you tell him you want to buy a ship, turn to 43. If you enquire whether he has done any work for Skarvench recently, turn to 63. If you ask what he knows about the ship Cold Grue, turn to 82.
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Kemp nods. ‘Just recently finished. Skarvench took delivery of her two days ago, a fine galleon of forty guns which he means to name Moon Dog. Got some queer features to her, though.’
You press him on the point. ‘Such as?’
‘Well, first off he had me install gunports along the keel. ‘The ship’ll sink,” says I, but Skarvench would have none of it – just chortled like an old crow and showed me the designs he’d brought. “Along the keel,” he insists, “and mind you fit the masts thus and so; they’ve a fair load to lift”.’
‘Eh?’ You’re puzzled. ‘What did he mean by that?’
Kemp sighs. ‘My own guess is worthless, so doubtless your own is better. It’s not how I’ve built any ship before, and I’ve built hundreds. The timber was too light also – pine is easily split by cannon – but Skarvench only laughed fit to burst and said, “It depends where the cannons be pointing!” So in the end, since his gold was good, I did it the way he wanted. Now I have other customers to attend to, so I’ll be bidding you good day.’
‘Where to now?’ says Oakley as you walk back to town.
You think for a moment. ‘We’ll take rooms at the Sweat o’ the Brow inn. If Skarvench shows his face anywhere in Selenice, it’ll be there.’
You have never spoken a truer word, for no sooner have you stepped through the doorway of the inn than you are rooted to the spot in shock. There the fiend stands, large as life in front of you. A rum bottle is clutched in his hand and his crew throng the tap-room around him, cowering as he subjects them to one of his thunderous drunken rants.
Then his eye alights on you. His snarling voice is cut off in midsentence. A thin line of spittle runs down into his beard as his teeth show shark-like in a vicious grin. It is the moment you have waited for. Face to face with your dearest foe.
Turn to 14.
Nota: Aquí está la frase que da título al libro en inglés.14
A look of thunder flickers behind Skarvench’s eye. ‘Still alive, eh? Come and drink with your old cap’n!’ He waves the rum bottle as if inviting you to take it, but you’d sooner put your hand in a wolf’s mouth.
Blutz’s blood is up at the sight of your hated foe. ‘God rot your one eye, villain!’ he screams. ‘I’d like to take that bottle and—’
There is a crash of breaking wood and Blutz falls with a groan. Glancing to one side, you see he has been hit over the head with a stool. Curshaw stands there grinning, then puts his boot into the unconscious Blutz’s ribs. He drops the broken leg of the stool beside him.
Oakley and Grimes stand face to face with the closing circle of Skarvench’s men. You whirl to face the pirate captain himself. ‘Enough, Skarvench; your quarrel’s with me, not them.’
He crows with laughter. ‘Ah, that’s a right noble sentiment and no mistake! See here, though: my quarrel’s with all who’d try’n scupper my plans. I’m aimin’ to bag me a queen, no less, an’ then sell her to the highest bidder. So I’m goin’ to have to do away with you, mate – which I should’ve done long ago, but I guess my old heart’s just too soft.’
His hand goes to his belt. You realise he’s reaching for a weapon, and your own fingers close instinctively on something on the table beside you. You raise it, and Skarvench gives a screech of laughter. You’re holding only a corkscrew. He has a musket. ‘I’ll be the wealthiest man on the seven seas,’ he boasts. ‘And he who would that wealth deny, down among the dead men let him lie!’
There is a flash as he fires. Smoke fills the air and the musket-ball thuds into your chest. You feel an instant of searing pain, then everything goes black.
Turn to 362.
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If you have a pocket watch, a crucifix or a magic amulet, lose 3 Life Points and (if still alive) turn to 242. If you have none of these items, turn to 324.
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Skarvench stands over you. You see his face as though it were reflected in a pool of blood. His voice roars and surges in your ears: ‘…among the dead men…’
The image clouds and clots, then the red haze turns to blackness as your grip on life gives way. You have met your doom at the hands of your arch-foe, and now there is no one to stop him.
Tienes razón 'profesor', pero te dejo un pequeño avance de una sección al azar del libro para que veas que si no gastáis cuidado, una pelea podría significar vuestra muerte:Yo también empezaria desde el principio y cambiaría alguna habilidad, sobre todo la de esgrima, porque no la hemos utilizado en toda la aventura.
...Si no tienes ninguna habilidad de combate de ningún tipo, pierdes 6 Puntos de Vida. Si tienes PELEAR, pierdes solo 3 Puntos de Vida. Si tienes PUNTERÍA o ESGRIMA (y el arma necesaria), solo pierdes 2 Puntos de Vida.
Suponiendo que sobrevivas, pasa al 70.