The Lead Ogre staggers into the open doorway, one arm hugged to his chest. Behind him, the outer steps spit dust and splinters as unseen force hammers the tower defenses.
The Black Book lies cold in Ellowicous the Black’s grip, its cover still and waiting. The tower’s threshold seems to hold its breath with him.
The Lead Ogre
Master, it is at the gate. The stranger tears at stone like it is rotwood.
Outside, the damaged barricade shudders again. Through the open doors, a flash of hostile magic lances across the scorched steps and makes the shadows recoil.
Ellowicous the Black
The book is waiting for his answer.
The Black Book
The watcher draws near. Give me your will, and I will answer with power.
The ogre sways in the doorway, fear fighting duty, while the tower’s dark hall frames Ellowicous the Black between the book’s promise and the stranger’s assault.
✓ Quest Accepted
Repel the stranger from the tower
✓ Quest Accepted
Master the Black Book's power
“Casts a spell of Giant strength on the Ogre. He will regenerate all damage, grow to an immense proportion and have the strength of a giant.”
FAILURE (Superb Arcana, rolled -3)
Ellowicous thrusts the staff forward and threads dark power into the ogre, but the spell catches wrong. Green light flares, then buckles into a cold, sickly shimmer.
The Lead Ogre jerks upright for a heartbeat, then the surge drains away without completing. His scorched arm stops trembling, but the larger change never comes.
The Black Book
So close. You reach for giant strength, and the shape slips in your hands.
The book’s cover warms against Ellowicous's grip, almost pleased, while the tower’s threshold stays open to the stranger’s will.
The Lead Ogre
Master, I am steady enough. The gate, first.
Outside, another удар of hostile magic cracks the steps, and dust spills through the doorway like breath from a wound.
“I cast a spell on myself to defend against any magical attacks directed at me”
SUCCESS (Superb Arcana, rolled -2)
Ellowicous draws the warding shape over his own breast, and the black helm drinks the cold pressure around his skull. A thin green sigil seals into place over his robe, just as the stranger’s magic strikes the threshold and skids wide.
The recoil still costs him. The glow in the staff gem gutters once, and a sting of spent power crawls up his forearm.
The Black Book
There. You wear it well when you stop asking the weave for mercy.
The Lead Ogre
Master, it bit your spell, not you. The ward holds.
Outside, stone chips burst from the jamb. The open doors shudder, but the ward drinks the worst of the blast instead of Ellowicous.
The ogre straightens by inches, watching the entry with fresh fear and hope, while the Black Book lies warm and satisfied against Ellowicous’s grip.
Another удар of force hammers the stairwell, and dust pours inward again, demanding a decision from the threshold.