Proyecto Aon Español / Lobo Solitario Español

243.
The praying mantis is well known for its voracious appetite, and you know that appetite is its strongest motivation! You can therefore hope that it will cover the last few centimetres separating it from the beetle in the blink of an eye. Mark how many gold pieces you are betting on its victory and roll two dice: if you roll 8 or more, go to 43. If you roll 7 or less, go to 419.

419.
To your great delight, the beetle, too clumsy, fails to devour the eight grains of sugar that separate it from salvation, and the mantis easily catches it. The little green killer pounces on the insect and swallows it voraciously. The money changes hands and you receive your prize: multiply the gold you bet by 3 and add the number obtained to your purse. Now you can take advantage of the break and ask some questions about Barsip. Go to 389.

389.
The crowd pushes you close to the burly owner of the game. You grab him by the sleeve and pull him aside, then explain in a firm voice: “I'm looking for a wise man named Barsip. He's often seen around here. Do you know him?” The big man scratches his head, thinking. 'Yes, that name rings a bell, but I can't remember his face and I can't tell you where to find him. Horla, the owner of the skittle alley down there, knows everyone who frequents this neighbourhood; you'd do well to ask him. And there's also the fortune teller a little further away. He knows a lot about everyone. In my opinion, those two are the best people to ask for the information you're looking for. Now I have to get back to work, stranger. Come back and play whenever you want..." And the man disappears. Thanks to him, you have obtained two interesting pieces of information. Which of these leads do you want to follow? If you haven't already done so, you can go and watch Horla's skittles game (go to 239), look for the fortune teller (go to 255) or visit the archery stand where a large crowd is gathering (go to 369).

239.
You cross the street and head towards the long, narrow shack where the shouts came from earlier. A giant man stands with his arms crossed, listening to the chant of a barker who is trying to attract customers with his enthusiastic words. 'Come one, come all and show off your skills! Try the skittles game of the men of the North! You'll only find it here! Horla's skittles game, unique in Babylon and the surrounding area, lets you win your weight in gold! Come on...' There is another potential player listening distractedly to all this spiel. ‘Excuse me, there were some shouts in this shack a moment ago. What was going on?’ The man, with long hair and a beard braided in the Babylonian style, looks you up and down for a long time before replying: "Nothing, it was Horla, the owner, dealing with a bad loser. Horla is honest, and he doesn't like to be made fun of! Whoever loses, loses, and that's that!‘ His words make sense to you, but you want to know a little more. ’Who is Horla?" you ask again. ‘The tall one with his arms crossed,’ replies the Babylonian, pointing to the giant you had already noticed. ‘Those who try to cheat and don't play fair have a hard life!’ What do you want to do now? If you decide to leave this shack, go to 84. If you want to gain Horla's trust to get some information out of him, go to 370.

370.
You enter Horla's hut with an air of confidence. The owner is imposing: his long, oiled hair is gathered into a thick braid held in place by a red leather cord. He wears a short tunic and a soft red and gold leather jacket. His costume is reminiscent of that worn by the men of the steppes. You approach him, saying cheerfully, “Horla, I've heard about your game! I like this kind of entertainment, and I'm really in the mood for a good game!” The giant looks you up and down and smiles, 'Yes, I understand. You're not a whiny coward like the one before! Go on, and good luck!' he concludes, lifting the curtain that hides the court. For the moment, you don't ask anything about Barsip... first you want to earn his trust!

You approach the court. There are two other players getting ready for their first shot, but as soon as they see you, they stop. “Do you know the rules?” asks the first one. You reply that it's your first time playing. ‘The rules of Horla are very simple, mate,’ continues the man, a burly fellow dressed as a warrior. "Take this ball and roll it down the wooden track towards the skittles. There are ten of them, and you have to knock them all down in two throws at most. We'll play this game in three rounds.‘ With that, he hands you one of the ’balls" and you discover with horror that it is a human skull. You turn and squint to get a better look at the pins at the end of the lane: they are human bones, stolen from who knows what corpse! Now you understand the passers-by's morbid interest in this game, and Horla's words come back to you. 'And what do you win?“ you venture. 'If you win, 10 gold pieces. If you don't win and don't lose, 2 gold pieces,” replies the warrior. “And... and if you lose?” you ask hesitantly. 'Well, right now you're holding the head of a loser, my brave friend! Ha ha ha!‘ The two players burst out laughing when they see you turn pale, but you quickly hide your disappointment: you're in now, and you have to play! ’Come on, let's play!‘ you exclaim. The others agree: ’We'll honour the loser's head when it smiles down at us from the top of a pike!" adds the warrior, still laughing. It's your turn to play first. Roll two dice: if you roll 11 or 12, go to 404; if you roll 10, go to 114; if you roll 9, go to 411. If the result is 8 or less, go to 9.

9.
With a vigorous gesture, you throw the skull towards the macabre skittles, but the momentum was not enough: you are still a beginner, and you did not manage to knock down all the skittles on the first try. The “ball” has touched all the bones, but several are still standing. Carefully mark down the score you have achieved and throw the two dice again: you will have to add this second result to the first. If you get a total of 9 or less, write down your score and then go to 398. If you get exactly 10, go to 114. If you get a result higher than 10, do not write anything new: keep the number from the first roll and go to 453.

453.
Your attempts to knock down the pins have failed: your second throw leaves the lane before even touching the pins. Your haste could cost you dearly. Now it's the turn of the other two players, who give you a contemptuous look. They approach the lane, each with a skull firmly in their hands and a defiant air. You don't like the idea of seeing your head separated from your body and fed to the Babylonian crows. For obvious reasons, you hope that the other players will prove to be unskilled. Roll a die: if the result is greater than or equal to your recorded score, go to 294; otherwise, go to 345.

345.
You watch with excitement as the ruthless duel between your two companions unfolds. The warrior seems to excel at this game: with a perfect throw, he knocks down all ten sun-baked bones with his first shot. The other player, who judging by his clothes is a diplomat from Baghdad, is rather demoralised; however, he concentrates, lifts one leg, aims carefully with his eyes half closed, brushes a strand of hair from his forehead and throws his ball... wide of the mark! The man from Baghdad has aimed badly! The warrior bursts out laughing while the diplomat from Baghdad, upset, prepares for his second shot: he takes aim, frowning, but the warrior's sarcastic laughter makes him lose all concentration and the “ball” slips into one of the channels running alongside the waxed track. You're safe! The man from Baghdad groans, his knees trembling. “Well, my friend. I'm sorry our friendship has come to an end so soon!” sneers the warrior, placing his hand on his shoulder. 'Fate has decided so! Even if you haven't been very brilliant, at least you've bravely measured yourself in this game! Ha ha ha!‘ The unfortunate loser tries to stammer a reply, but he is out of breath and white foam drips from his lips. ’Horla! The game is over!" shouts the warrior. Immediately, the giant lifts the curtain that closes the entrance to the hut. ‘So, who won?’ he asks. ‘Ah! I can tell from your face that you are the loser, stranger!’ he says to the man from Baghdad. ‘I'm sorry, but you knew the price you had to pay! I swear you won't feel a thing: I have some experience!’ And with that, he pulls a heavy battle axe from the wall. The diplomat falls to his knees, crying and begging Horla to spare his life. “Come on, come on! It'll only take a moment!” reassures the greasy-haired giant. The other man continues to sob and clings to Horla's legs as he grabs him by the neck and lifts him up. 'Why is everyone making such a fuss today? What a job!' he protests, then bends his victim over a small low table and raises the axe. The loser barely has time to scream before his head rolls in the dust, while a powerful jet of blood spurts from his severed carotid artery. The dead man's eyes roll back and his jaw twitches, while his body waves its arms one last time: in a few seconds, it's all over.

The brutal spectacle turns your stomach. You pocket the two gold pieces Horla hands you without paying any attention, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the warrior leaving the hut. Suddenly, you remember that you had some questions to ask Horla! You overcome your disgust and speak. “I'm looking for a wise man, a certain Barsip, and I've been told that he often visits this neighbourhood. Do you know him?” Horla's mouth twists into a small, puzzled grimace. 'Ah, Barsip! Yes, I know that name, but I don't know what he looks like or where he lives. Go to Amalrik, the one who runs the archery range over there. Even though he looks a bit sleepy, he's a fox and knows half the world. Or go to that fortune teller over there, at the end of the square. I don't know his name, but he also sees a lot of people come and go. That's all I can do to help you." You thank the giant and set off. “Come back anytime for another game!” Horla shouts after you. The mere thought sends a shiver of disgust down your spine!

Where do you go now? If you haven't already done so, you can go to Amalrik's archery stall (go to 369), to the fortune teller's stall (go to 255) or to the stall where there seems to be some kind of race going on (go to 117).

255.
Right at the end of the street, leaning against a sweet stall, there is a man of average height sitting in front of a series of carved bone tablets. You immediately recognise him as a fortune teller: in almost every city you have visited, his colleagues always occupy a good spot among the attractions offered to passers-by. After all, what man would not want a glimpse into the future?

This one is not yet very old, and he is jovial by nature, as evidenced by the numerous wrinkles that adorn the outer corners of his eyes: he undoubtedly does not disdain playing the occasional joke on his customers. You approach him somewhat cautiously. The fortune teller's eyes are a very bright blue, the likes of which you have rarely seen. 'Good morning, traveller,“ he says to strike up a conversation. 'Would you like to know a little more about what fate has in store for you? Then you've come to the right place!” Something attracts you to this man, perhaps the intensity of his gaze. You sit down in front of him on a low stool. “Before we begin,” the man continues, 'I must warn you. Nature has played a nasty trick on me, depriving me of my hearing. But despite my deafness, I can still hear you perfectly: all you have to do is speak into this shell," explains the fortune teller, handing you a shell with pearly reflections. ‘I will hold this one, which is identical, to my ear, and your words will reach me as clear as spring water. Do you agree?’ You nod briefly, a little bewildered. ‘And now, make way for the magical cards of the Elders!’ The fortune teller shuffles the bone tiles and arranges ten of them so that you can only see their backs, and then an eleventh one a little apart. Look at the picture opposite and choose the card you want to turn over. Mark the number on the back of this card and go to the corresponding paragraph to find out what awaits you.