GreekQuest (13 page)

158

 

“Look here,” you tell the brat in one last attempt at sweet reason, “why don't we just wrestle without weapons. Three falls, one submission or a knock-out wins?”

“Suits me,” says the kid and hurls himself upon you.

Which automatically gives him first strike. And if you think that's academic in the circumstances, think again. This little tearaway can actually punch at +3 which makes his fists lethal weapons and whatever he's just said, he's going to do his level best to kill you. Since you've decided on a wrestling match, here's how it will work:

 

The kid attacks you in the usual fight-to-the-death way. If the attack kills you, go to
13
.

When it's your turn to attack, make an Absolutely Anything Roll to find out if you can get a submission or a knock-out. If you succeed, the fight's over and you can skeeter off sharpish to
61
and select another destination from your map. If the Roll allows you another try, this counts as a fall. If the Roll kills you, go to
13
.

You both keep doing your own thing, turn about, until one of you gets a result.

 

Please select an option from the previous page.

159

 

“My dear chap,” you say in your best humouring-the-old-geek voice, “I've no doubt at all you sincerely believe yourself to be the greatest and most powerful of the Ancient Greek gods, but I'm certain if you just keep taking the tablets you'll soon find -”

You stop suddenly, mainly because a thunderbolt has erupted from the old boy's fingers and hit you right between the eyes.

 

Looks as if there might be more to the old boy than you thought. Roll two dice twice and add the scores to find out how much damage the thunderbolt has done to you. If it kills you, go to
13
. If not, I really would suggest you get to
55
fast and agree to everything he wants before he throws another one.

 

Please select an option from the previous page.

160

 

A Grecian Triumph

It took the Greeks several weeks of heavy-duty carpentry to put the wooden horse together since the thing was absolutely huge. When it was finished, King Menelaus gave you the option of hiding inside it with a selected band of warriors or remaining behind with the rest of the troops who were to make a noisy withdrawal, but hide themselves just out of sight of the city walls.

You never hesitated for an instant and as you climbed into the wooden horse with your fellow warriors, word arrived that Paris, Prince of Ileum and wife-stealer, was dead from an arrow wound inflicted by the Grecian archer Philoctetes. It sounded as if the war was as good as won.

And so it was ... almost. From the semi darkness inside the horse you listened to the sounds of the phoney withdrawal, then settled down to wait while the blazing sun turned the horse into an oven.

Nothing happened for the remainder of that day and as darkness fell, you began to wonder if the Trojans were going to fall for it.

But fall for it they did. At dawn next morning a sudden movement of the horse jerked you awake. For a moment you could hardly believe it, but it soon became obvious the innocent citizens of Troy were wheeling the horse inside their city gates.

Watching the outside world through a peephole, the sergeant of your little contingent suddenly gave the order. You and your fellow warriors piled out of the horse through specially constructed trap-doors and fought your way back to the gates.

Taken utterly by surprise, the Trojans were no match for your ferocity. In less than twenty minutes, the gates of Troy were open and Greek reinforcements pouring through. An hour more and the war was over.

You were taking a stroll through the captured city later that day admiring the amazing architecture when a familiar figure fell in step beside you.

“That was well done,” Zeus says grinning. “Could have been better, of course, but you kept the war to ten years which is a decent length by any measure and while I'm not ecstatic with your performance, I'm well enough pleased.” He sniffed. “Now, let's get you home.”

With which he waved one hand and the world began to spin around you.

 

* * *

 

Stay together!” screams your guide desperately as everybody races for shelter in different directions.

You sensibly ignore her and head towards a rocky overhang that should provide some cover. But the rain's so heavy you somehow miss your way because by the time you should have reached it you're still running, soaked to the skin, half blinded by the downpour and with not the slightest idea where you're going.

Then, as abruptly as it started, the storm stops. The clouds break up and the sun comes out with such violence that your clothes begin to steam.

You look around to discover the remainder of your tourist party is no more than fifty yards below you. A half-remembered vision of an old man with a laurel-wreath headdress and grey beard flits briefly across your mind, but you dismiss it as mere fantasy and start down Mount Olympus to rejoin your friends.

 

The End

The End

 

Thank you for playing! If you enjoyed this book, look out for more Herbie Brennan adventure books from Andrews UK.