Fremdsprachige Ausgabe: BBRACK Productions
The explosion rocked the cavern. Dust rained down upon us. The vault door crashed to the floor¸ belching forth dozens of hissing crossbow bolts. There was a high-pitched scream behind me.
We returned fire. I ratcheted the bolt action of my rifle¸ while Kottal fired his shortbow as fast as he could. Another bolt grazed his thigh¸ eliciting a grunt. He was a Rolen¸ near human but not human. I was supposed to look down on him¸ but I couldn't - not while we stood together and fought. Thorn shook his mane as he launched the last spear from his powerful hands. He knew this was it¸ our trip was over.
We prepared ourselves as bandits came screaming out of the dust cloud¸ brandishing their shamshirs. The air began to weave¸ swirl¸ and funnel into razor-sharp clouds. Serpents made of minute debris struck mercilessly¸ removing skin¸ tearing muscle¸ and exposing bone. The air funnels swallowed the bandits whole¸ and then vomited their bloody skeletons to the floor. The magic force turning dust into devils let go¸ and the cloud puffed into innocent dust.
Their advance stopped cold. We were free for a moment to breathe. The Maroc cradled the pierced¸ lifeless body of the dainty Syl - Ophil - tenderly in his arms. Tears welled from his right eye while rage sparkled in the Maroc stone imbedded in his left socket. 'She was a creature of such joy.'
After all this time¸ the wizard had discovered empathy. Too bad it was too late. We had no time for him to mourn¸ 'Alladar¸ is their Maroc still alive?'
He nodded¸ the large Numid plates catching the light like trophy bones. 'I can hear the screaming of his maroc stone - and he can hear mine.'
I swore again¸ louder.
'Ishmael?' the voice was silky smooth¸ cultured. It belonged to Ali Achbed¸ the bandit chief who had tracked us across the desert to this ancient complex. 'Ishmael¸ tell me you are not hurt¸ Ishmael. That would break my tender heart. I have a bargain for you¸ my boy. Lay down your arms¸ then you and your survivors can leave.'
Thorn moved back to the two of us¸ his hooves clomping on the metal floor. 'No otec is worth dying for.'
Alladar drew himself up¸ lightning arcing from finger to finger as he pointed at Ophil's still form¸ 'It's about more than otec¸ now.'
I looked at Kottal¸ searching his sun-darkened face for any of his simple¸ barbaric wisdom. He shrugged¸ 'You know what to do¸ Ishmael. Sometimes you must leap the fire to escape the flames.'
Achbed's voice came again¸ 'Quickly Ishmael¸ even generosity has limits.'
I really hate that man. It couldn't end like this. Not here¸ not now.
I hefted my axe¸ relishing the weight. Thorn picked up a shamshir. Kottal knocked an arrow. Alladar carried his power as a weapon in one hand¸ and the Syl's dagger in the other. Whether we would live to see home again hinged on the next sixty seconds of our lives. Succeed or fail¸ live or die¸ it would all come down to our skill¸ our instincts¸ our collective will. It was a risk¸ but we had no choice. I had to roll the dice.
Welcome to the world of T'nah. This book is all that is required to play. Once you enter in¸ the level of detail will startle you. Over a dozen races¸ over twenty-five cultures¸ and more than two hundred occupations provide plot hooks¸ character creation options¸ and a rich¸ full world in which to adventure. Detailed character creation allows you to flesh out your character completely. Promised Sands uses the Trinary System. This easy to use¸ fast resolution mechanic requires only three ten-sided dice to play. (You might like to have one of each size for character generation¸ however.)
Welcome to T'nah: a world you never knew existed¸ but will never¸ ever forget.
Are you the one to claim the Promised Sands?