---

Welcome to the December special edition of BEHOLD!

Despite delays caused by lack of printing facilities, you have in your hands an extra large issue of BEHOLD! To make up for the delay, this issue has two pages more than promised, making it a bumper 34-page issue.

You may have already noticed the new lay-out which we are using in this issue. We hope you like the changes we have made and we will, of course, welcome any suggestions you may have.

As far as a group name goes, the result of our October competition has finally been established. From this issue on we will officially be known as Heroes Inc. Thanks to Keith for the name -- we hope you enjoy the free issues.

This issue is also special in that it contains articles from the Cape and from Boston, USA. We hope that we will continue to get articles from such interesting places. (No, Verwoerdburg is not an interesting place.)

What can we tell you about the January? Well, it will not, repeat, NOT be more than sixteen pages long. (Very important fact, this. - Ass. Ed) (Hold on Simon, you can't put a comment in your own writing. - Ed) (Why not? - Ass. Ed) (We lied – it ended up being twenty pages long. – On-line Ed, January 1999)

On a more serious note, with the Rotan branch of Gnomish Bureau of Publications literally wiped out, we were unfortunately unable to get a copy of the Rotan News for this issue. Have no fear, we will be sending in our own correspondent, in an effort to rectify matters.

In next issue's In Character, we hope to have an exclusive interview with one of the most controversial AD&D non-player characters -- Athalar.

Happy birthday in advance to Geva, Keith and Tristan, who all celebrate another year of the inevitable aging process in January.

That's all for now, except to mention that we resisted the urge to write something about Giant Space Hamsters.

Bye.

Simon McQuade        Anthony Brooks
 

All excerpts from Artak's Field Guide to Exotic Herbal Remedies were written by Christopher Brooks. The song on page 7 was written by André Selmer. The advert on page 5 was written by Keith Anderson. The Universal Brotherhood advertisment on page 29 was adapted from FASA's Universal Brotherhood Shadowrun module by Keith Anderson. The Pendragon announcement on page 5 was written by Christopher Brooks.

Cover: The cover for this issue features Tekuna Chand, the star of this month's In Character. The picture is titled Tekuna Chand -- Princess of Thieves, and was drawn by Sally Dore. Back Cover: The back cover is called Race Me? You're On!, by regular artist Dominik Wysocki. It will interest anyone who has ever wondered what dragons do when they are bored.

2    Editorial

4    Tarquin's Raiders by Antony Pautz

This is the first part of a new mini-series set in the Star Wars universe. The author lives in the Cape and is currently BEHOLD!'s most remote subscriber.

Most Western countries are ahead of South Africa as far as gaming is concerned. In Britain and the US, the current trend is towards live roleplaying. Geva sent us this article from MIT University.

Shadowrun has one of the most detailed magic systems available. As demonstrated by the short story in this article, it is also one of the most powerful.

The third instalment in the saga of Euvgeni sees him confronting the mysterious "man-thing".

For all Interceptor fans comes Legionnaire -- the roleplaying game. Legionnaire is part of the Renegade Legion group of game products which includes Interceptor. This article introduces the game and takes a look at character development.

Mighty Empires is a new game product from Games Workshop. This article explains how it fits in with Warhammer Fantasy Battles.

If you thought that action and adventure were only found in roleplaying games, think again. This amusing true story proves that life can be as exciting as fantasy.

As promised, this issue features several articles on rogues. This one is a general look at what is probably the most fascinating class in AD&D.

Flames of Deceit is a based on the Bloodstone Mines module. It describes a game that actually took place, but does so from an unusual point of view.

This story is set in the Star Wars universe, and is the longest article BEHOLD! has published so far. It is an action story that will be enjoyed by all sci-fi fans.

This article provides invaluable background information for all MERP players. It is a detailed and thorough description of the city Aiken Istgarothg.

This clever Shadowrun short story, was, appropriately enough, written by one of BEHOLD!'s editors. It will be specially appreciated by our regular Shadowrun players.

The Game Guide takes on a different format and a different writer this month. We have decided to try and fit more games in each issue, so that we can get up-to-date more quickly.

Here she is. This issue's cover girl reveals all. Our regular In Character feature turns its attention to Tekuna Chand -- the princess of thieves.

INTERDEPARTMENTAL MEMO
Transcript No. 454ccx593

FROM: Moff Thalus

TO: All commanders in the Norad sector

We have lost numerous supplies, equipment and men to the bandits in the
last four months. This situation cannot continue. Therefore you are directed
to eliminate the bandits immediately. Incompetency will not be tolerated and
will be punishable with death. If these bandits continue to plague the
operations of the Empire in its task of keeping the peace, then all
commanders and their military staff will face disciplinary action.

APPREHEND THE BANDITS AT ALL COSTS!!!

Yours in the Emperor

Moff Thalus

---

"But Tarquin, we're supposed to be raiders and bandits, not Rebel troopers. The only people we ever attack are the Imperials. This convoy will be the perfect target. They're transporting spares and supplies which we can sell for a fortune in Kinrael. It's madness not to take them."

"Look Kaldor. I've told you before that we only attack Imperial targets. The Force knows they can afford it. The Rebellion is just a small, badly organized group of misfits that need all the help they can get, and if we can get rich while we're doing that— so much the better for us."

"Well, I think you're wrong. If there's money to be made, let's make it. I want that convoy."

"Listen to me, and listen to me carefully." Tarquin said as he pushed Kaldor against the wall. Before Kaldor could respond, he felt the cold, hard edge of a blade pressing into his throat.
"This is my unit, and we do as I say. You've been getting a little too big for your boots recently. Just remember who's in charge around here."

With that, Tarquin sheathed his blade and turned to leave.

"You haven't heard the last of this Tarquin. I'll get you. No man pulls a knife on me and lives. You're dead."

"Oh yeah? You and whose army? Get out of here Kaldor, you're no longer part of this unit."

As Kaldor reached for his blaster, he heard the sound of other blasters being drawn. The sight he saw was not a good one. All the other raiders had their weapons up and pointing at him.

"Now, now, steady on Kaldor. If you think we're going to let you blast Tarquin away just like that, then you'd better again. Or is that too taxing for your brain cell?" Smirked Tarquin's second-in-command, Malrias, "Now, get out of here."

As well aimed bolts started landing at his feet, Kaldor managed to rethink things, and decided that now was as good a time as any to leave. Turning, Kaldor stumbled for the door, opened it, and disappeared into the street.

"That settles that," laughed Tarquin, "break out the Deltron spice wine. I need a drink."

"You had better watch it Tarquin— he'll be back!"

The county of Salisbury is proud to announce the rise of a new hero.

Sir Lancelot du Lac was accepted into the membership of the Round Table, shortly after winning the Camelot Regional Tournament of Honour. He won in spectacular fashion, downing Sir Lamorak de Gales himself from his extraordinary charger.

Sir Lancelot is sure to become a dominant force in upholding peace in our land.

The Earl Robert warns peasantry of recent bandit outbursts and asks them to refrain from travelling alone and leaving the roads. Warriors will be protecting farm workers, so there will be nothing to fear.

The Earl will be awarding five Libra to the person...

It is dark. The three assassins proceed carefully along the outside of the ruined building, keeping low and running from pillar to pillar in order to break cover as little as possible. Having skirted the outside of the building, they decide to enter thought a rusting side entrance. The door, however, refuses to yield to them. Locked doors pose no problem to an assassin, but this one has rusted shut over the years. As they ponder their next move, they hear hushed voices getting nearer. Quickly, they dart around the side of the building, but it is too late. They have been sighted!

"Halt!" cries a voice form behind them. The assassins must decide— do they try to run for it; do they try to negotiate; or do they turn and fight?

Not, perhaps, the height of roleplaying novelty; but the above scenario has one important difference that sets it apart— it took place in real time, in real space, and with real people. It is an example of one of the many and varied adventures run by the MIT Assassins' Guild.

The Assassins' Guild is a student organization, operating under the auspices of the Strategic Games Society (roughly MIT's equivalent of WARP), which specializes in "real-time, real-space" roleplaying games. The idea is simple: find an interesting (real) place, get some (real) players together and have their characters roleplay in a suitable scenario. There are, however, countless complications involved in making such an enterprise a success.

First, there's finding an interesting location. Fortunately, the greater Boston area abounds in these— parks, forests, deserted buildings, which have surprisingly large number of secret passageways and rooms which have been carefully documented by student explorers over the years (the most celebrated of these is Building Ten, with its famed "missing" half floor). Although the campus police don't always appreciate students crawling about tunnels and passageways in the dead of night, they're normally quite amenable, as long as nothing gets broken.

As for people, there's no shortage of interested adventurers: roleplayers looking for something different; explorers who appreciate the added element of fantasy; students looking for a break form a hectic study schedule; even the occasional faculty member has been known to participate. During the winter, though, it's often difficult to find enough people prepared to brave the frigid night air for a game. As a result, winter adventures tend to be more indoors in nature; the top floors of the admin. buildings become an abandoned starship, or an abandoned gymnasium becomes a dragon's stronghold. In the summer, adventures are set in more exotic locales— in parks, forests, or the banks of the Charles River.

Writing a scenario is an extremely tricky business. The biggest difficulty comes in finding the right balance between real life and fantasy. It's no use planning for, say, a bottomless pit or a 30-foot fire-breathing dragon if the physical environment doesn't provide adequate means of simulating them. Conversely, if you have a dwarf player, you can't have him ripping doors off their hinges. Aside from being somewhat implausible in the scenario, it would also rather annoy the campus authorities.

The real world has a nasty habit of intruding when it isn't wanted. Adventures set in a desert can lose all sense of realism if it starts raining. It's also difficult to engage in a blaster fight in the corridors of a starship when members of the Ninth Annual Seminar on Nuclear Waste Disposal are wandering through said corridors (even late at night, there are always people on campus who will get in the way, given half a chance).

On the other hand, the real world often offers interesting physical and other challenges which a clever game designer can incorporate into a scenario. One game, for example, actually required players to have an encounter with the Campus Police. The Charles River (which separates the actual city of Boston from Cambridge, where all the universities are) provided an excellent location for a game last year entitled "Escape From the Toxic Sludge" (the Charles is so polluted that very little imagination was required).

Although rules are usually devised to suit each specific scenario, there are certain general rules that are used in most games to handle such universals as combat. Rules that work well in a game will generally be carried through to other games (with suitable modifications). To keep things running smoothly, there are a few marshals who function as GMs and who do things like slam doors shut at appropriate moments.

There are also some commercial real-space games which the Assassins' Guild uses occasionally. These tend to combine aspects of real-space gaming with more traditional roleplaying elements. They provide a more defined framework for gaming at the expense of some degree of reality. For example, players throw dice to determine the outcome of combat, which, although not very "real" is often a more satisfactory way of doing things.

In the end, one must ask how effective an experience real-space adventuring is. The answer is mixed. Because of the constraints imposed by the real world, adventures are often somewhat limited and lacking in depth. There is also the argument that playing in real space demands less of one's imagination, and thus diminishes the value of the game. Whatever its limitations, however, real-time, real-space gaming passes the crucial test: it's fun. It's not only a refreshing change from more normal forms of gaming, it also exposes players to some fascinating real locations. There's also the added bonus that it keeps you fit— although after a five-hour real-space game you're fit to do nothing else but collapse!

Bash Bash, Crash Crash, Thump Thump, Bang,
How I love to hear this sound.
As the battle progresses,
And the piles of dead increase,
Bang Bang, Thump Thump, Ouch Ouch, Ting,
For I worship great Char-im.

Joranth Bumblefoot

The alley smelled of excrement and decay. A worthless street bum huddled in one of the many dark corners. Kaos blinked and the alley's darkness vanished into a pale red light. His cybereyes scanned ahead. His prey wasn't anywhere to be seen. He was standing in the only exit; the far end of the alley ended in an algae-covered brick wall. The large troll snorted. Just because he couldn't see his prey didn't mean he wasn't there. This chummer was a shaman.

Kaos focused his attention on the hobo again. Two hollow thuds were the only sounds that echoed down the alley as the firepower rounds from his Predator 2 embedded deep into the wall on the other side of the hobo's head. He nudged the bloodied corpse with a heavy boot. Nah. It wasn't the shaman.

Shrouded by his invisibility spell, Nathan Streams-of-Silver lay against the far wall of the alley. His left arm hung shattered at his side. The troll was quite a marksman, Nathan chortled through his pain and fear. Was he ready to meet the great spirit Death? Ready to journey with Him to the White Lodge, home of souls? A smile crossed his face as he began to play his death song on his tom-tom.

Kaos heard the steady beats of the small drum drift down the alley. What only a few would have considered a smile played across his face. A wind started to move sluggishly out of the alley.
"So, cornered rat, your last great act is to breathe on me!" Kaos roared through his laughter.

Nathan heard the insult, but the peace of death was upon him. Owl was always the proud and noble hunter at night, never the cornered prey. The night was when Owl hunted. What Owl hunts, Owl finds. The drum beats came faster and louder. The wind began to pick up speed and swirled wildly through the alley. Nathan donned the mask of Owl and, raising his head to the night sky, let out the lonely call of the hunter.

The spirits of the city heard the call. They felt the power. They came.

Kaos was too stupid to know fear when the hoot of Owl echoed through the alley. The wind continued to pick up speed until it became a funnel of air in the middle of the alley, sucking everything towards it. Garbage streamed into it, forming a growing column. Garbage cans overturned and bounced down the alley into it. The hobo's body began to slowly drag towards the growing form.

Kaos still couldn't see the shaman as the body was absorbed into the pile of refuse. He wasn't worried until the garbage started to shape itself around the body. It started to grow arms and legs, and a strangely deformed head. It was huge, at least a foot taller than the troll. With above-human speed the troll pulled the pin from a grenade, placed it on the floor at his rock steady feet, and watched as it was sucked into the form of the still growing garbage man. Kaos dived to the side as with a muffled "thwump" a leg of the form exploded back into the alley.

Nathan ducked as a lump of metal embedded into the wall next to his head. He watched as the city spirit he had conjured teetered on one leg, then its form flowed and a new limb grew. It sucked back into itself the garbage that the grenade had dispersed.

Kaos felt the spirit focus its attention on him. He fought down a wave of fear unlike anything he had faced before. A soft "schick" whispered through the night air as cyberspurs extended from his forearm. No piece of junk would beat him.

Nathan stifled his scream as his body paid the price for summoning one so great. In places his skin blackened and blistered. Blood trickled from his eyes and ears and ran from his nose and mouth. Through the pain he could no longer maintain his invisibility spell. Staring down the alley he saw a battle of titans. Man/machine versus spirit magic.

"Magic is not tuxedos, rabbits and fake flowers anymore. It is Power."

Arthur Garrett, Chairman,
Department of Occult Studies, UCLA

There is, however, a penalty to pay for drawing raw spell energy from astral space. These energies, channelled through a mage's body, cause drain. The mage either becomes mentally fatigued or physically damaged, depending on the force of the spell.

Mages are not restricted to casting spells. They also have the ability to conjure spirits— energy manifestations from the metaplanes. This is where the major difference between shamans and hermetic mages comes into play. Shamans can conjure nature spirits at any time and in any place, whether in the midst of a city or on the wide open prairies. This only takes a matter of seconds. Hermetic mages conjure elementals. This is a time consuming and costly process as the mage must entice the spirit from the elemental planes of Earth, Air, Fire or Water. These spirits can then help the wizard learn spells, perform sorcery or fight his battles.

Another original aspect of the magic system is ritual sorcery. This allows you to cast spells from a distance (halfway around the world!). It requires a group of mages to act together, and a material link to the place or person on which the spell will focus. This is also a costly and time consuming process and can be sensed and disrupted.

The weak point of the Shadowrun magic system is that it can become confusing and unwieldy, especially at high levels of play when characters can end up rolling up to 20d6 for a single spell. It does however provide for excellent character expansion and easy spell design, allowing you to stylize your character. But be careful, just because he's a magic user doesn't mean he ain't real good with a SMG (Sub-Machine-Gun)!

In the last instalment of Euvgeni's story, he was sentenced by the town court for damaging trees. His sentence was to work as a carpenter and to help replace the lost trees...

So for the next three years Euvgeni worked in the forests, and owing to the mixture of hard labour and careful honing of his skills, Euvgeni grew up to be a most formidable man. He became more muscular than any of the warriors in the village, his dexterity was superb, and his high intelligence accumulated for him much respect from all those who worked with and around him. He was always last to finish working due to his endurance, and was always first to start work. His incredible strength was constantly remarked on by other woodsmen, and his family's pride, lost after his misdemeanour, was restored.

However, there was a train of thought in the village that his famed strength would cause friction between him and the president's son— the same one we saw at the clearing with the man-thing. He requires a bit of attention. He is sly, cunning, a sneaky fighter; he would not balk at using unfair play to win, and of course he is the biggest threat to Euvgeni's existence. His appearance is one of grease that has been greased. His hair is long and is platted with red, entwined thongs, and his face is sleek and handsome. All the girls in the village adore him. All the young men envy him. As you can see, Euvgeni will have to call on all his resources to outwit this barracuda. The barracuda's name is Alachrinn.

(Fade in. Light to dark. High angle shot. Low voices: one low and indistinct, the other much rougher and more throaty. Forest. Same clearing as before)

"We have a problem." The low voice says.
"Handle it." The growl replies.
"It isn't quite that simple. You see, he has changed into a mammoth." The voice whines.
"I would like to see this man-boy, he sounds most interesting." The voice perks and a prickling sensation runs down the other speaker's spine.
"He is still a problem. Sooner or later he's going to discover the discrepancy." The lower voice whines even higher.
"If he does, I'll handle him." The growl says confidently.

(Fade out dark to light to a room filled with wooden, carved statues.)

"Mmm, tastes good Ma." Euvgeni said at the dinner table as he bit into a steak the diameter of a redwood's trunk. The sounds of chomping spread as the view rotates around the room to show a broad-shouldered silver-haired gentleman; a small, petite young girl assumed to be Euvgeni's sister; and another girl slightly older than the last; both are very pretty. Finally the frame settles on a woman whose face is pretty much unscathed by the march of time. (She looks not unlike a hawk.) She is Euvgeni's mother and the one to whom many, many, many meals are attributed.

"Ma, I've got to get to work early to start planting the new pines up in the Northwest corner." Euvgeni's words come out between chomps and burps.
"Euvgeni, mind your manners!" The voice of command could really take lessons from this lady. Euvgeni (supposedly afraid of nothing) cringed at these words and mumbled a low apology.
"What?" The voice of command could very definitely profit from this lady.
"Sorry Ma." Euvgeni speaks up quickly, not wanting any more reprisals. Both girls giggle together.
"What's so funny?" He asks defensively.
"Oh, nothing." The girls reply with straight faces.
"Huh, nothing indeed." Grumbles Euvgeni.
"Now, now. Calm down. No use fighting with women. You don't stand a chance with those two." The silvery voice of the older man enters the fray and also quietens things down. The evening meal goes off without another hitch.

Euvgeni's father would have made a jolly good arbitrator but because of financial restrictions had become a craftsman and now owned a string of smithies throughout the southern reaches of the forest villages. Of course, Michael's first love was to listen to the court cases at the "Horse's Mouth". Each day he would go to listen and comment on the judgements. He was of the opinion that Euvgeni's punishment was a fine piece of work, because it had made the boy less reckless and more responsible. Although Michael was a revered clan champion, he was now in his late forties and was considering retiring early to go to the court full time, and to hand the business over to his son. Unfortunately, fate had to stick its big, ugly paws into the whole affair and this dream did not quite work out as he had planned...

(Early morning sunlight. Camera pan and track of forest. Camera picks out Euvgeni.)

[Interlude:]
Two wild boars are standing under an oak tree. "Oink oink grunt snort oink?"
"Grunt grunt sniffle burp."
For the viewers convenience we shall once again make use of sub-titles...
"Are you sure there are no human barbarians around here?" The boar asks nervously.
"Of course not. Don't be silly. Eat up." The other boar is casually eating small berries from a shrub.
"Well, if you say so..." The sounds of munching and crunching follow.
[End of interlude.]

Euvgeni appears from around the one side of the oak tree and sees the two boars.
"FOOD!" He shouts.
"GROINK!!!" (Sub-title: "HUMANS!!!")
The two boars rush off screaming and grunting as they panic and run into the undergrowth. Euvgeni quickly gives up the chase, wanting to finish early today. After closer inspection we see that he carries a bundle of many saplings. The place becomes familiar as we recognize the clearing. Strange low voices originate from a tree of concave shape. Quickly Euvgeni hides in the undergrowth, and pricks up his ears...

"...The diamonds are of good quality this year Alachrinn." A very inhuman voice growls.
"Yes, it has been a most profitable year for both of us. My father doesn't even know of these riches. We could continue this arrangement for years."
Suddenly, from behind them, there is a savage growl and Euvgeni flies towards the man-thing, who is surprised and felled by Euvgeni's charge. (Euvgeni is, at this moment, building a rage that is virtually unstoppable.) Alachrinn jumps back and just evades the club-like fist as it whistles past his head. The man-thing is slumped on the ground unconscious.
"You will pay for this treachery, you SCUM!" Euvgeni's voice seems strange— as if he were losing control.
"On the contrary, my friend, you will pay for me." Alachrinn smiles wickedly and, in an instant, produces a vial, which he hurls into Euvgeni's face. Euvgeni sees it too late and coughs violently as he sinks to the ground...

The ship drifted through the starry expanse. The pilot watched his screen with little interest. There was a beep and then another. His eyes widened as he saw the ship. This was no TOG ship.

It fired and a seemingly pitiful stream of light hit his ship's rear arc. The pilot watched in despair as the stern armour of his craft disintegrated. In desperation he pushed his ship to its limit. It leapt forward and then shuddered. The other ship fired again. This time a whole bank of warning lights in the cockpit lit up.

There was a noise from the tail section and the pilot saw space flash by. In the last instant before the burst of innocent white light engulfed him, his thoughts were only "Up with TO..."

Many of you have been in this sort of position before, especially when playing Interceptor. Now, you can not only pilot your own ship, but also have your own armies and be a intergalactic hero or villain. But only if you play Legionnaire.

Legionnaire is actually a mixture of games: take a cupful of Star Warriors and mix it well with a hint of AD&D. Add a dash of Paranoia and a pinch of Shadowrun, not to mention a teaspoon of MERP. Stir this together with about a litre of Star Wars and a drop of Torg. Bake for a few eons under the heat of a red dwarf and you get Legionnaire— a game where you choose between TOG (Terran Overlord Government), the Renegade Legions (part of the Commonwealth) or, if you dare, the Free Traders.

In the futuristic world of Legionnaire, Earth has undergone many changes. The Roman ruling system has been reinstated and strong social divisions have again risen. But not happy just conquering Earth, the legions of TOG set out for control of the galaxy and now own half of it. Rebelling against them at tremendous odds stands the Commonwealth, backed by the infamous Renegade Legions.

The generation of a character takes possibly even longer than that of MERP. Each character has eight primary attributes, determined by one of many methods of d10 rolling. The primary attributes are: Agility (AG): this is used to see how well you can dodge laser shots; Charisma (CH): used when trying to seduce the local men/women/humanoids/giant space hamsters; Constitution (CN): used to see how many shots you can live with; Dexterity (DX): used when performing micro surgery on your arm after it has been blown off; Intelligence (IQ): needed to tell your left foot from your right; Luck (LK): the skill most needed to survive; Speed (SP): used when trying to outrun a laser and lastly Strength (ST): which determines whether you are a six-pound weakling or not.

After this arduous procedure, there are still subjective attributes such as name, alliance, career path, age and sex to be determined.

Then there are the special attributes which separate the commoners from the heroes, namely "edge" and "prestige". Edge is calculated by rolling 2d10 and subtracting 13. It works in a similar way to possibility points in Torg— except that with each one used, you can reroll one die. Prestige is how well known you are and how honourable (or dishonourable) you happen to be. Luckily, you don't need to worry about this, since all player characters start with a prestige of zero.

The next step is to apply racial modifiers to these scores. Of course, before you do this, you have to choose a race. There are eight race which you can be: Baufrin (an overgrown cockroach), Human (no guesses allowed), KessRith (a cross between a rhino and a troll), Menelvagorean (a blue bird with three eyes and two hands), Naram (a form of psychic human), Ssoran (a large green lizard), Vauvusar (a toad with four arms) or Zog (perhaps a multicoloured version of the missing link).

You character also has many skills, these are limited by your IQ (no, not yours, your characters) and can be increased using skill points. Legionnaire skills are very similar in style to the AD&D non-weapon proficiencies. They include things such as laser firearms, swimming, gambling, leadership and the all important medtech, as well as some more unusual skills like seduction or xenobiology.

The skills you can choose from are limited by your IQ. Each skill has a minimum IQ, which is needed to master it. Astronavigation is obviously more difficult than brawling, so an IQ of 11 is needed to astronavigate and an IQ of only 2 is needed to be able to brawl. Even if you do not have a high enough IQ to master a skill, you can still attempt to use it, but with appropriate penalties. Always remember that all ones is an automatic success.

It is also possible to get more skills without paying. To do this you choose a "career package", which, for most characters, means going to THE ARMY, which takes between 4 and 10 years of your life. If you choose this option for your characters, then the rolling really starts: What happened to you in this time? What skills changed? Did you get wounded? Is it life threatening?? Will you survive??? What did you have for breakfast????...

Choosing the correct alliance is a difficult task. There are definite bonuses for being on the army of TOG, but there also penalties. Items such as heavy carbon-core plated armour and wonderful weapons that can obliterate entire planets at a time are available (and cheap), but you have to listen to your superiors. In the Commonwealth, you receive lots of other bonuses, such as cheap weapons that don't work, but you get to see more action. The most dangerous group is the Free Traders. They are a group of cutthroats, smugglers, embezzlers, cheats and merchants, whose religion is Money. Smugglers are considered legal traders of illicit goods (?!?!?!?! - Ed), and also have the bonus of starting with a ship.

So far we have only really dealt with character creation. Legionnaire characters are quite complex, but interesting and entirely believable. Character generation in an enjoyable process, and provides well-rounded and completely playable characters.

Legionnaire does, of course, have all those other funny little things that go with roleplaying games, such as experience points, here known as adventure points (AP's). There are also fame and prestige points, which are awarded by the GM when he thinks they are deserved. The amount of fame needed to become a household name across the galaxy is truly staggering, and not many heroes get that far.

Finally, weapons in Legionnaire are very deadly, so that the average character dies more often than one in Paranoia. But thanks to the advance medicines available, you can normally be brought back if helped quick enough.

In the next Legionnaire article: Wounds, weapons, cybernetics and possibly how to play.

Newly arrived from England is the Warhammer campaign game— Mighty Empires. The game consists of a number of hex tiles representing various terrains, castles, towns, villages, and banners. Banners are counters used to represent a player's military forces.

Game play is divided into two seasons: summer and winter. During the summer season players send forth their forces to extend their realms, to vanquish their foes and to bring glory to their empire. During the winter season troops retire from the conquered realms and return home to recuperate and rebuild their forces. This is the time of ambassadors, spies and assassins. Treaties are signed and deals struck; revenue is collected from vanquished lands and heroes are called to lead armies.

The spring and autumn equinoxes are a time of magic. During these periods the most powerful of each empire’s wizards are called to the capital city to perform arts of great magic that are felt throughout the lands. The elves excel at this and are a force to beware of at this time.

Each campaign is ideally suited to three players. The fourth banner belongs to an independent empire that is there to put a spanner in the works of all the carefully planned strategies. Players can represent Wood Elves, High Elves, Dark Elves, Undead, Chaos, Dwarves, Britannia, Old Worlder, Orcs & Goblins, Norse, Nippon and Slann empires. Each army is different and has special abilities and troops.

Each player must design a 5000 point army to begin the campaign. These are then divided into banners of from 500 to 1500 points worth of troops and heroes. During play, these will certainly be demolished but with careful planning can be built up again. All armies must be designed according to the Warhammer Armies rules.

Hopefully, a series of campaigns will get under way in the new year. All interested parties are invited to choose the armies they want to play and to contact the organisers. Groups of campaigners will then be randomly chosen and different campaign worlds will be designed.

Once these basics have been done, army lists will have to be compiled. For each of the campaign worlds designed, one person will be the "Campaign Overlord". This person's job is to GM all the games in that campaign world, and to supervise winter season politics. If there is more than one campaign world, different people will oversee the different worlds. One thing must always be remembered when playing, the Overlord's decision is final— on pain of death.

This is a brief overview of how the system will work. The rules used for the miniature battles will, of course, be Warhammer Fantasy Battles rules. It would be nice if more people could start collecting miniature armies next year, so that as many campaigns as possible can be played.

This is a true story...

It all happened on the 24th December 1991, at Golden Gate, in the Orange Free State. If you had always thought that roleplaying was a way to exercise your fantasies, read on...

As usual, we woke up late. We dressed slowly, and ate even slower. We got moving a little before midday.

It was a beautiful day. The temperature was just above pleasant, but there was a cool breeze. Besides, we were walking under trees most of the time.

The six of us walked up a hill covered in man-high grass, and emerged on a small plain. In the distance we spotted a troupe of baboons. Someone asked what we should do if they attacked us, as if they would.
"Easy!" I replied, "Stand still, don't move. If we run, they will only be compelled to chase us. Anyway, there is nowhere to run, we can't escape by climbing trees, and we can't fight with our backs turned."

Any reply was cut off, because it started raining, and everybody started complaining to the guide about the weather. Soon the rain stopped. The baboons had been heard screaming in the distance, and everyone had picked up a stick. Being me, I picked up a twenty foot branch, and proceeded to scare other members of the party with my deft lack of branchmanship.

The baboons stopped screaming at each other. I was persuaded to drop my stick. After a little while, we climbed down into a gully, where a shallow stream flowed. We walked along this for a while, every now and then climbing out of the gully to get around some obstacle. We stopped several times, not being in a rush. After about two and a half hours we reached a dead end, where the gully had been blocked by several large rocks.

Our guide convinced us to go up a steep slope, and when I say steep, I mean STEEP. The slope consisted of smooth rock, cracked and pitted in places, with small patches of grass. Three members of the party managed to get to the top of the obstacle, and disappeared over the other side. Yolanda had not been told we were going mountain climbing and was wearing smooth-soled shoes. The fact that they were now wet did not help matters much either. We needed all the grip we could get to stay on the slope. To fall would not be deadly, but a few broken bones could easily be the result.

James and I stayed behind to help her. Moving cautiously from clutch of grass to clump of grass, she eased herself across what had become more of a cliff than a slope. James standing above, and me below, hoping that we could catch her if it became necessary. Eventually, we made it to the other side. It took about half an hour, although nobody noticed.

On the other side, we found our destination. It was a small grotto with crystal clear pools. The surrounding rocks were clean, and no yuppies were present.

It took about an hour to complete what we had come to do. We then went back the way we had come. Again, James and I helped Yolanda move across the cliff. Wim and Aaron disappeared into the bushes beneath, and Chris, not noticing where they had gone, took a wrong turn. The rest of us were mistakenly following him when Wim called from below, to show us the correct exit. Those of us still up on the cliff started back down.

James had just reached the bushes, and I was a small way behind him. Yolanda was still navigating her way down the slope, and Chris was debating which way was best to come down, when all of a sudden a series of unearthly screams were heard from above. Something like a howling dog being run over by an express train. Everybody remembers the moment vividly.

Yolanda looked up, saw what it was, and screamed "Baboons!"
I looked up and saw a mass of orange shapes moving diagonally down the cliff.
Chris looked up to the spot he had just vacated and saw a huge male standing there.
James saw a giant baboon bearing down on him.
Wim, took the time to notice that the baboons were throwing their children down the cliff, before he disappeared under cover.
Aaron just ran.
James, thinking back to my comment about not running, shouted the obvious: "Run!"

Yolanda stopped being cautious, and started haring down the cliff. Chris didn't stop to think. He just jumped three meters in his haste to get to cover. Yolanda, sensing him fly past, was all of a sudden conscious that she was the last in line. She moved even faster. I dived into the bushes. Chris later said he never saw a human move so fast, although I was not conscious of it at the time.

Yolanda ran into some bushes, and got stuck. Chris had to stop to free her. They dived into the bushes, running as fast as was humanly possible. Yolanda remembers asking "What will happen when they catch us? Will they eat us? What will they do to us?" All of this at top speed.

I was racing across the stones on the stream bed, knowing that I would trip on one of them. Knowing that that would be the end. The baboons would catch me. There were still others behind me, but I knew they wouldn't stop.

A patch of mud appeared in front of me. "Don't slip" I thought, planting my left foot firmly on the mud. It sunk in up to ankle height. My momentum carried me on, and my foot slipped out of the shoe as if it wasn't there. I slid to a halt on one foot and two hands. As I went back for the shoe, I saw Yolanda and Chris hurtle past me, hearing the screams of the baboons close behind. I grabbed my shoe and fled after them.

"Stop!" I shouted. I had to put my shoe back on. Couldn't the others see that. Wim stopped and waited for me, watching behind me, lest a ravenous beast appear. I put on my shoe, and was considering tying my laces, when more screams erupted from the dense bush. Wim took flight. I followed him.

Now I wasn't worried about slipping on a loose stone. I watched my long laces as they flopped about, my feet moving at high speed. "Don't trip" I thought. I knew that I would trip on those laces, crack my head on a rock, and end up as baboon nutrient.

A rock appeared ahead of us. James went left, Yolanda and I followed. Chris went right, chasing after Wim and Aaron. James found himself stuck by a large pond. With little hesitation, he jumped into the water, staggering a bit under the weight of the bag he was carrying, and setting the standard for the rest of our flight. Yolanda jumped, passing him in the air. I jumped in, feet together. Moving my left foot forward, under two feet of water, I tripped on those laces, getting soaked up to the neck.

We ran on. Screams erupted from behind us. I heard a rocks clatter behind me. The hair on my neck went up. Some more sounds. They were upon us. I was dead. All this running for nothing.

James launched himself into another pond. He slipped, getting wet, but not as wet as me. As he slipped I heard the sound again, and realised that it was something in his bag making the noise. We weren't dead. We were saved.

The pond suddenly deepened, and we were all now wet up to the waist. I slipped, soaking myself completely. We ran on. The screams diminished, but we did not slow down, or pause to rest. We reached the point where we had entered the gully. It had taken us two hours to get from here to the cliff. Conservative estimates said it had taken us twenty minutes to run all the way back.

We started talking about what had happened, basking in the adrenalin high. "Pass any low-flying vampires?" said someone. Somebody else did a body count to see that we had all made it. We saw some more baboons on a cliff. We shouted rude suggestions to them, waved our middle fingers at them, and were generally happy. Secretly, I felt that another group of baboons would jump out from behind a bush and slay us all.

We entered the area of tall grass again. Here our two injuries occurred. Aaron slipped and cut himself, although not badly. Wim bruised his knee on a rock. We all started feeling wobbly and cold as the adrenalin wore off.

So, if you need ideas for a little something to liven up your games, try a visit to the Free State...

Kayress is one of the most interesting herbs. When fresh, it can be burned to give off a thick, yellow smoke. This is useful for signalling, but not for cover because the smoke rises quickly. It does however take quite a while to disperse. If inhaled, the smoke can cause uncontrollable coughing and also irritates the eyes.

This water dwelling plant has small, diamond-shaped leaves and is easy to recognise. However, it is believed to have a similar looking relative with none of the properties mentioned above. Kayress tends to dry out quickly and then becomes useless.

In my mind, no AD&D class possesses as much versatility and diversity as does the rogue. Note, I said rogue, not thief. Too many people have the misconception that anyone with a pick pockets skill is a slimy backstabber; a leech on the buttocks of society. A rogue, however, is a cunning adventurer, always ready to employ his (or her) numerous abilities in ways that flabbergast the simple of mind and make the weak of heart tremble.

In my short adventuring career, I have never been as amazed by the feats of other classes as I have been at some of the deeds that rogues have performed. A fireball is always a fireball, but pick pockets is something a clever rogue can rely on in many situations. If captured by a band of orcs he can use it to intrigue them by performing sleight of hand tricks, like pulling coins out of their ears and making them disappear into thin air. At the same time he can pilfer the keys to his companion's cell from the Chieftain's belt. The mage, however, is now roasting on the fire he helped start.

This is not where a rogue's skills cease to be of use. Sure, rogues do not have the combat strength of most fighters or mages, but they can compensate. I remember once using the detect noise skill to track down an invisible mage. If the party is getting trounced by a powerful foe, a stealthy rogue can hide himself in the surrounding shadows to avoid detection and live to fight again another day. An even stealthier rogue could sneak up behind the terrible foe and backstab him. "How dishonourable!" some of you gasp. I think rogues see it more as evening out the odds. A high level rogue can do an immense amount of damage to an opponent in this way.

What happens when the party comes up to a solidly bound oak door? It's too sturdy for the fighter to break down, the cleric has already cast his Warp Wood spell, and dagnabbit, the mage forgot to learn Knock. All eyes in the party suddenly turn towards that rather unobtrusive party member who always marches in the middle and only "borrows" things every once in a while. Now imagine that a beholder is chasing the group. Boy, will they love you if you can open that door.

And now for the skill no thief can do without, the skill that every thief puts all his development points into. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's read languages. Please, don't all shout out its praises at the same time. You're all probably asking yourselves, "Who ever uses that?" Well, I do... sometimes, every now and again, on occasion. And it has come in useful... well, kind of. I now know that the gnomes built the toilets in Dragondale and that they have now completed work on the mechanisms on the roof of that inn in the desert. Good, hey? I'm just waiting to find instructions, on how to locate an ancient treasure, that are written in a language that only I can comprehend.

Another benefit that rogues have, apart from their skills, is their experience table. This is not, at first, evident as a benefit, but becomes noticeable at higher levels when rogues start attaining them faster than other classes. This implies that rogues get new proficiencies faster than other classes and also start gaining followers and henchmen before anyone else. This has definite advantages, like being able to start up your own Thieves' Gui...I mean restaurant chain. This means a steady source of income (it also means having to guard against other aspirant restaurant managers). Rogues are also able to read magical scrolls upon reaching higher levels. Won't the mage in the party be thrilled when he has to start sharing out the scrolls the party finds.

But being a good rogue doesn't just entail the cunning use of skills and an ability to learn quickly. To survive in a world where no-one much appreciates your unique brand of artistry you need to be able to employ your equipment to it's full extent. I believe that I shall always remember what I have learnt from that master (Mistress? - Ed.) of quick thinking, Tekuna Chand. Whatever she lays her hands on has a potential use. Blinding powder, marbles and a blanket were used to foil a group of summoned scorpions. Combine these with a good bit of acting, and the priest that summoned them was foiled as well. All it took to finish him off was a good backstab and the most incredible set of teeth I have ever seen. (I get the shivers just thinking about it!)

And what about those nifty gadgets with four sharp prongs? The mere mention of caltrops make any pursuer jump for joy. What about using to them distract casting mages or clerics? Marbles appear to do the job quite well, so I imagine that these marvellous spikes should perform adequately. There are also various items available that enhance a rogue's abilities. How about climbing claws, for a slippery wall that you really would like get over before the Town Guard catches up with you? Or a listening cone, just to make sure that the people in the next room are not keeping any secrets.

Even everyday items can be put to good use. Hollow boots or an extended scabbard can keep some valued items from nimble fingers or over-inquisitive gaolers. A vial of acid can be an aid against a nasty lock that just will not open or against an ugly troll that just refuses to die. The possibilities are endless. Frankly, I don't know what rogues did to improvise before the Connoisseur's Handbook was released.

The next topic is one to be handled carefully. No— really. Have you ever spilled a vial of contact poison all over yourself? Obviously not. It's nasty stuff, poison, and is rumoured to have adverse effects on your health. It's a good thing that it is mostly entrusted into the care of rogues— they recommend having it on a pin ring. It is also rumoured that there is an assassin in the Rotan area! The local herbalist has, however, dismissed this as a fallacy.

The new kits available to rogues have definitely added greater appeal to the class. Now you can dabble in smuggling, sail the seas as a hearty pirate, enter the daring world of espionage or bring to life your favourite swashbuckler. Each kit offers special skills and enhanced abilities for those who would dare tread the path of the rogue.

Society's reaction to rogues is mixed, to say the least. Robin Hood is a folklore hero, and many tales are told of dashing highwaymen who steal young maidens' hearts after removing the gold from their purses. Tales of fear and horror are told of villainous pirates and pillaging dessert raiders. Generally, most rogues are regarded with trepidation, and those caught treading the darker and less legal paths of life are in the dog's box for sure. However, if rogues are the dogs of society, then it is surely a dog's life.

He was as happy as he was ever likely to be. It was only ten cycles after he had destroyed T'chark, one of his brethren, in a direct confrontation, and already two more regions had fallen under his rule. The thoughts of conquest always roused him. He licked his dry lips, his forked tongue darting in and out between his four fangs. Only Ashra, his captain stood in the way now and with her gone, he would then lead the Horde. He looked up nervously at the higher pedestal, his fourteen foot tall body rippling with hate. He slowly calmed his instinctive urges and forced his convulsing muscles to relax. Even though he was much bigger and stronger than her, those six curved blades in her hands, not to mention her other abilities would slaughter him before he would even get close. He had always admired the stealth, grace and air of command that the half-woman, half-snake wielded with such ease. All the more reason to destroy her. Once again, as if sensing his boring eyes, Ashra looked towards him, her ochre eyes narrowing into slits. He looked down quickly, fearing her attention. He would have to form an alliance to kill her. The idea did not please him, but he cheered up thinking of the meal her flesh would make. Then, of course, he would move on to her former allies...

Ashra looked on at Magog long after he turned away. Physically he was not much different from the rest of his type of demons. The huge trunk like body practically radiated strength. The small leathery wings on his back were the only things she envied. She would have to do something about him one of these days. He had gained a lot of status with his latest kill, and she had also lost some by supporting the wrong side of the battle. Damn T'chark. Magog would have to be removed quietly. Then she would butcher his followers, to serve as a reminder of her power...

The chanting of the fourteen priests on the top pedestal of the temple was beginning to irritate Ashra. Still, it was the best way to summon her Master. He would be pleased with her. She even managed to contain her anger and obey the maggot arch-priest who led the ceremony. A sudden wave of nausea hit her. There was a source of goodness in the temple. She looked down, in time to see a man stumble trough the main gates. He wielded a scimitar in one hand, and a glowing magical sword in the other. He wore a woodsman's garb, and was covered with a cape that made it difficult to see him. Unbelievably he had come through the Hall of the Dead! A look of surprise and fear crossed his face as he took note of the situation. This Ashra could understand. She concentrated and willed the man to rise. She felt the fear well up in him as she brought him closer to her. Slowly, she started pressing him into the ceiling...

With his eyes full of envy, Magog watched the rising figure. How did the human get so far into the temple? A wave of nausea stronger than the first one struck him. Another four figures stepped through the doorway. The first figure radiated pure goodness. He was dressed in a metal suit that gave off a strong magical aura. With both hands he carried a stabbing beam of light. Just looking at it hurt his eyes. Behind him came a brightly dressed, sword-wielding human, with an instrument of some sorts slung across his back; probably a bard. Next came an old man, leaning on a staff that practically shone with magical might. He felt immense power in the man, and for the first time he was afraid. He glanced quickly at the last person. This fat puffing, sweating human at first glance looked to be the weakest link, but as Magog looked closer, he realized that there was a presence with the man. A powerful presence of light that protected him. This was a man very close to his god. Obviously these people were here to stop the ritual. They would find it very difficult indeed.

With deliberate slowness, the arch-priest descended, challenging the paladin to a duel. Slowly, he withdrew his sword. It was as dark as the paladin's was bright. The demons howled as if on cue, as the two clashed. Suddenly Magog realized that he was digging his talons into his own leg. The smell of his blood drove him to frenzy, but the will of his master kept him in his place. He observed as his vulture-like kin swooped down on the group. The wizard cast a spell and two fell frozen and dead to the ground. Now he could see the group fight. The bard was handling one of them on his own. The fat lardball hit another with his mace and... impossible! The demon dissipated. There was another thing fighting along with them: a huge treant. He hit two demons simultaneously twice, and both crumpled to the ground. The paladin lay on the ground, defeated. He heard the arch-priest shout for their surrender. The fat man cast something, and Magog felt the overwhelming presence of great power, as the paladin rose to his feet, healed. All of Magog's kin were now dead, and seeing the odds stacked up against him, the arch-priest raised his sword... and vanished.

Ashra watched the whole combat with little interest. As the last vulture died she let the crushed form of the man drop. Through the painful light of the sword, she concentrated on the bard and willed him to rise. She saw the paladin make a quick slashing motion with the sword. Her spell broke, and she cried out in rage as the backlash stung her...

Magog, his mouth foaming, finally felt his master's will release him. Garnog was ahead of him. Only the paladin and the priest had climbed onto his platform. Garnog, shying away from the sword, went for the priest. Bad mistake. Two slashes from the sword, and he was down, nearly severed through. They were advancing for him. Curse the sword, how it burned. With his mind he reached out for help. He felt only hate and resentment. As the sword descended on him, a thought crossed his mind. Ashra would soon join him...

Ashra saw Magog collapse. His dying thought hit her. She strained against the will of Orcus, trying to flee, but it was like grasping at light. She begged her Master. The wizard was casting a spell. She pleaded with Orcus to release her. The paladin was floating up the stairs. She cursed her Master. The paladin swung his sword. She was her Master's last defense. As the sword fell, she was rewarded with one little quiver in her Master's indomitable Will. As she died, she realized: even Orcus was afraid now...

Carvish is a herb found in the Great Desert. It is quite abundant where ground water is close to the surface. Nomads use Carvish as a balm for parched lips as it provides useful protection against the sun. Unfortunately it is difficult to remove and turns sour if left on for more than a day or two.
Carvish is nicknamed "camel-hump" because of its lumpy leaves.

The fifth planet of the Entheron system circled lazily around its binary suns and the meagre wildlife that existed on the planet began to become active.

A sensor pod sprouted from the peak of a ridge. The communications site below the surface of the ridge bustled with activity: some people were monitoring the radar emissions of the planet, others were completing unfinished sections of the command centre. Several droids were testing the installed electronic surveillance systems and the main holographic projector. Two men dressed in uniforms were observing these tests from nearby. Another person approached the senior officer. She was wearing working overalls and wore a comlink on her head.
"Sir, we managed to salvage the corvette's shield projectors and have taken the liberty of reconstructing the hangar floor repair bay to facilitate repairs of both the X-wing and the A-wing fighters."
"Very good lieutenant. We have received reports that an A-wing squadron will be entering the system in four hours."
"Then I'll inform the ground crew to prepare for their arrival." She saluted, wheeled and left the command centre.

The first group of reconnaissance landspeeders and their support crew were making final adjustments.
"Check that stabilizer. No, no— the repulsors must be set to 1.1 standard gravity, not 1.05. Control, are you receiving our transmissions?" A voice sounded over the comlink.
"Loud and clear, hangar control. Send them off."
The ground crew chief grinned and gave the two pilots a thumbs
up sign.
"Retract the ground generator links."
The two repulsor craft rose graciously from the hangar platform, slowly accelerated through the open end of the hangar and flew out into the light of the two suns. The hangar crew stood and shielded their eyes as they watched the two machines fly off over the steamy undergrowth.

"This is Blue Leader. We will triangulate the second quadrant and return to base via the third sector of Beta Wing's first flight path."
"Roger, Blue Leader. Will confirm flight path in two minutes."
The two repulsor craft cut through the misty air. Their monitors showed all clear. Two minutes later the transmitters on the crown of the ridge sent out a message.
"Blue Leader, your flight path has been altered, prepare to receive new directions."
"Roger control, data link up in progress... control, begin transmission."
The radio bleeped and blooped as the new path was transmitted, and the flight computers adjusted for the new directions.
"Control, this is Blue Support. Request information on new path?"
"Blue Leader, the sensor sweep of Alpha air space detected an anomaly on their monitors; it touched down in the new sector. Your wing will investigate the crash site and report any breach of system integrity."
"Roger control."

The vehicles banked and flew towards the new flight path. After a fly-by of the area of the supposed crash, the two speeders reported in:
"Control, this is Blue Leader. We are at the given coordinates and there is no sign of a crash site."
"Blue leader, perform land-reconnaissance in a one kilometre radius from the epicentre."
"Roger control."

Ten minutes later, on the ground:
"Damn me if that isn't a laser blast on that bough!"
"It sure has the striation marks— and it's still warm."
"Double damn!"
The two men began to move off into the mists again.

In another star system, a diamond shaped ship began to receive status reports on a search mission.
"Sir, we have received a weak signal from the Entheron system. It's from one of our search mission droids. The recording sounds like communication emissions." The flight officer said.
"Display the Entheron system, the location of these emanations and the planetary readout. What series droid has been assigned to sweep that system?"
"The Arakyd Viper series search-and-locate droid."
"Excellent, excellent. Their record is exemplary. This may be a promising venture."
"Sir, this could very well be another smuggling network or just a small colony. We can't chase every herring."
"Do you question my judgement, captain?" The commander's voice became sharper.
"N— No, Sir. It's just that the last two encounters have been nothing more than colonies— a waste of time. And the Emperor's patience is wearing thin."
"I want regular progress reports." The commander turned and walked along the upper deck gangway. As he walked, he watched the flight crew busy flying the huge ship through the endless reaches of space...

"Five minutes ago we were doing normal reconnaissance, now we're crawling through this mess with a hostile something lurking somewhere." The second member of Blue Wing was becoming irritated.
"Well, if you asked me, I'd say that if we don't find out who or what made those laser marks, then we're all going to have to get moving again. I don't want to have to move again. My X-wing's hyperdrive was playing up on the last evacuation— took me four jumps to get to this system." The leader said over his shoulder. The two men climbed and crawled through the underbrush and were periodically reading the sensors for new data...

PEW! PEW! A red beam of light split the scouts' sensor package into just so much debris. A droid moved forward silently and steadily, training the laser gun towards the two men. The wing man pulled out his hand laser, stood up and fired away furiously at the robot. Pew-pew-pew, the first shot caught the droid on its repulsor drives and the robot rocked— its shots went wildly into the air. Suddenly, the robot exploded, dropping to the ground in bits and pieces.
"Nice shooting partner." The wing man shouted across to his leader.
"I didn't hit it that hard. I don't think it has energy cells big enough to create an explosion like that."
"Maybe you hit the energy pack for its blaster. That might do it." They both stood over the remains of the robot.
"I think it self-destructed, whatever it was."
"Well, we had better contact base and report in."
"Only we can't. That thing blasted it to bits, but still, better the radio than us."
"Yeah, well, let's start back. We can tell them when we get to the airspeeders.

On the Star Destroyer there was frantic activity in one sector of the flight deck.
"There, the confirmation we needed! Inform the commander. The emissions are those of a rebellion outpost."
"Set a course for the Entheron system." The commander walked briskly onto the command deck with his hands behind his back.
"This base might be the one to which that squadron of A-wings was heading. Verify their hyperspace jump, captain."
"Sir, that will require time. We will have to contact the Relentless and obtain all the data on the encounter."
"Do it, captain!" The commander glared at the captain from the upper deck.

The crew on the Rebel base were making final adjustments. The base now had a nearly fully operational sensor bank, a shield projector and deflectors on the northern side of the base. The power generators were running at sixty-five percent efficiency.

"All right, it's been an hour now and we still haven't reached the speeders. Do you remember which system we're in?" The wing man growled.
"Hold your Tauntauns. I'm sure they're just about there." He pointed vaguely in an arbitrary direction.
"In other words, you don't have a clue!" The wing man exclaimed.
"Huh, I have to do everything. Let's think. The second sun was just off the horizon when we landed, now we just have to get a bearing on it through this jungle." He squinted up into the blinding mist, trying to find a brighter spot in the glare that would give him a bearing. He saw it.
"Ah! There's it is. Now we move at right angles to the sun's course. and we'll be at the speeders in no time." They both began to move forward with determination.

"The squadron just entered Alpha air space captain. Shall I give them our coordinates?" The sensor controller asked the flight captain.
"Sir, their codes seem to be all right." A second controller said.
"Send them the final flight path and flight pattern."
"Yes sir!" The first controller smiled and gave the A-wing squadron the go ahead. The A-wings began to make final adjustments before they entered the base proximity.

Out in space, the Star Destroyer was approaching the end point of its hyperspace run. The ship commander paced the steel walkways, waiting for further updates.

"There they are!" The wing leader shouted as the two landspeeders appeared out of the mist. The two scouts scrambled their way towards them and climbed in. "Control, this is Blue Leader. Please check. The ground bogey has been neutralized. Its construction resembled that of some sort of reconnaissance droid."
"Blue Leader, stand by... This is the base commander, could you describe the basic shape of the droid?"
"Yes sir. It was repulsor operated and had a built in laser rifle. Probably some electromagnetic sensors as well. It self-destructed when we cornered it."
"Very well, we will have to assume that the system integrity has been breached. Return to base."
"Roger. Wilco commander."

At the rebel base...
"Quick, give me those hydrospanners— some of the support struts need adjusting."
"Wow, look at that carbon scouring. How close did you say you got to that Star Destroyer?"
"What do you mean, there aren't any deflector duct cables? I need dual-port field enhancers for the power coupling on this shield projector." "I don't care if those flashback receptors aren't compatible with the Taim and Bak firing servo's, they'll just have to do."
"No! That one goes in there and THAT one goes in here."
The technicians on the hangar floor were working furiously, while all around them the base was becoming more and more hectic. The command to evacuate had come ten minutes ago, and the repair crews were working in double teams.
"Your Swivel gun has lost its servo-motivators. They'll have to be fired in a fixed position."
"Your nav computer is giving out some weird readings, maybe you should use the artoo's hyperspace jump capabilities. Damned if I know where you'll show up with these coordinates."
"Check the reactant agitator injector of that starboard engine, it seems as if it isn't picking up the plutonium by-products."
A blast rocked the hill and the power shut down. Emergency generators began to work furiously to cope with the added loads...

The AT-AT's moved slowly through the dense forest, using most of their power to get through the dense plant growth.
"I can see the hangar-bay doors now." The ground leader sat in his command station in the AT-AT. The radio crackled.
"Commence assault, captain."
"All stations, fire at will." There followed a barrage of shots streaking towards the hill.

On the hangar floor, the A-wings were preparing for an emergency take off. They slowly left the ground and flew out of the hangar doors, only to be confronted by four AT-AT's firing at them. None were hit and they disappeared into the sky. The ground crew began to run through the base to reach the final transport. The ground captain set the explosive charges and ran after the rest of his crew.

Outside, the AT-AT's had a surprise waiting for them.
"Hey, my walker is leaning. What! Aaaah...!" The first AT-AT on the northern front reached the quagmire and began to sink into the slimy mud. It exploded in a ball of energy, just before going under. The Imperial troopers on the southern edge had more success.

The ground crews were loading the last equipment as the radio crackled. "Imperials have entered the base. Imperia— PEW! PEW!"
The ground captain took one last look around and ran up the hatch as the Imperials entered the hangar. Laser fire flew across the area as the troopers tried to stop the ship. The ship slowly took off and left the hill base of Entheron.

The hill exploded, throwing bits and pieces of Rebel and Imperial equipment high into the air...

The Rebel commander look at the read-out on his pocket computer. A list of possible sites stared back. Syntas, Pilos, Entheron... there were only a few left. He looked at the next one on the list. Hoth. Perhaps they would have more luck there...

Overview
1156 years after Sauron's defeat and the capture of the One Ring by Isildur, the Sindar Vessel Istgarothg¹ landed far to the south of Endor, beyond even the Far Harad, where no human had ever explored. There a city was founded, a fortress city, Aiken Istgarothg, to protect the peninsula, sacred to the Noldor elves of Aman, from the predations of Sauron, who was rebuilding his forces and his influence.

The dwarves of Khudaar, fifty leagues to the east, agreed to construct the city, gaining in return full control of the Artisans’ Guild. Twenty years later (1176), the elven scouts could no longer keep Sauron from the region and turned to the proud Dúnedain for military assistance, eventually turning control of the city over to them entirely.

The presence of iron ore in Iliatha's Peak led to extensive mining operations, in the process of which a total of nine of the fabled Rathganai gems² were found; the sale of four of these funded the completed construction of the city. To the dwarves' dismay, no mithril deposits have been found, in spite of the presence of the gems.

It is now 1294. Only in the past thirty years has Sauron begun to take an interest in the city, reports indicate that the southern army of Mordor is poised to the north of the Haradwaith, awaiting spring before marching. That army on its own would present no great threat to the city, but should Sauron decide on an extended southern campaign and move in his northern forces too...

Geography
The forest of Astulor is roughly rectangular, being twenty miles north to south and fifty mile west to east. It abuts the west coast of Endor at the Cove of Ertiya. The river Hyilan runs from the cove inland, with a loop in which lies the city.

The forest is of Gorlab wood, a species found only in the south of Endor. The forest's eastern border joins the Khudarek mountains, inhabited by goblins and a few troll tribes. Ogres are not uncommon. The dwarven clan of Khudaar is centred at the Y-junction of this mountain range, about 150 miles East of Istgarothg. An arm of the forest reaches south into the peninsular, in this arm is a small sylvan elf community.

Politics
The government, with the enormous wealth of the Rathganai gems, has found financial stability to be the simple expedient of buying any business which is started in the city, keeping the original owner as manager.

The city is guild-run, with the Druids'/Rangers' Guild the largest and most powerful, closely followed by the Warriors' Guild.

The Artisans' Guild is owned exclusively by dwarves, and is the wealthiest of all guilds.

The Animists' Guild is devoted almost entirely to healing, with a few war-clerics.

The Mages' Guild is the smallest guild, present only because Sauron utilizes magical Essence in his armies, and because the elves have ever been attracted to the ways of the Essence. Dúnedain in general look down on Essence magic.

The Bards' Guild is responsible for all entertainment in the city, along with education.

The "Security Bureau", while not a guild, is also in charge of the police, and as it can draw on the entire resources of the Warriors' Guild, there is no thieves' guild³.

The city ruler is the lord or "president" of an advisory council consisting of two representatives from each guild, five from each race with official interests in the city, and advisory experts relative to the discussions. Presidentship is hereditary.

The current president, Tathdir Dusonal, has been in office for eighteen years, and is a great businessman and politician, but not much of a strategist, hence the council.

Architecture
The city is built on two islands, Aiken Ardua in the southeast and Aiken Liliora in the northwest.

To the west is the rock-spire known as Iliatha's Peak, about 1000 feet high, the city-islands rise about 100 feet, with the city walls another 100. The rest of the forest varies from sea level to 150 feet. Liliora is connected by a large bridge to the mainland, a rope-suspension bridge to the mines, and a wide bridge to Ardua. Ardua has only two bridges; one to Liliora, the other, a wide, strong construction, into the mines.

The city walls are being added to and strengthened all the time, using a strong concrete mix made from the waste rock of the mining.

The Forest
Forestry is forbidden by the elves and the druids, but as there is normally an abundance of deadwood on the forest floor, no strenuous objections have been raised to this rule. Gorlab trees grow straight, shedding lower branches all the time, resulting in a tall bare tree with a wide spread of branches at the top, and a surprisingly open forest.

Society
Children are schooled at the city arena, being taught languages, reading and writing, history, politics, wood-lore and etiquette. At the age of fifteen, the children enter a guild where they are  taught the basics of a profession. During their fifteenth year, they may change guilds at any time. At the beginning of their sixteenth year, initiation into the guild takes place, and they begin tutorship.

At the guild, they become either full or part-time whatevers, in the case of part-time professionals, they learn secondary skills and find employment out of the guild.

Crime is low, because of the non-existence of a thieves' guild and the strength of the police. Many argue that a thieves' guild would lower crime still further because of the discouragement of "freelancers", but the noble Dúnedain could not support such a dishonourable profession.

Marriage is permitted from the age of seventeen onwards, while citizens are eligible for enlistment into the army at any time, as the need arises.

Yolu threw the newsdisk aside; more trash by those bureaucratic, paper pushing idiots— prepared to lie and slander anyone, so long as their ratings go up. Well, now they had gone too far, now it was time to change. This time those filthy megacorps had slandered the wrong guy, and somebody was going to pay! Yolu rose slowly from the tattered couch. Muscles rippled up his tough hide as he moved across the room and over to the cupboard. Behind him, a cleaning droid frantically tried to clean up the mess of crumpled beer cans that littered the room. The droid worked hard, almost with an inner incentive, as though it knew what had happened to its predecessor.

Yolu pressed his palm onto a secret security pad and spoke a command word. A panel shot open, without a sound, to reveal a ballistic arsenal that would have equipped a small army. Yolu let a small smile cross his lips, as he reached for his favourite SMG. With the trained hands of a professional, he dismantled, cleaned and checked the weapon. The droid had finished cleaning and quickly scurried back to the kitchen. But not quick enough. With his SMG ready, and smartgun link active, Yolu's cyber-reflexes leapt in to action. Target! Bearing: 243, range: 3.24 metres, velocity: 12.3 m/s. The only sound that could be heard was that of the droid exploding, the gun's silencer took care of the rest. Yolu's smile grew as he examined his handiwork. He turned around and, grabbing a handful of grenades, left the building. As he left he made a mental note to get another droid.

The street lights flashed passed, followed by many a car as Yolu drove, with determination, to his destination. Rounding the last corner, he cut the lights and engine, and rolled to a stop. The night air was as cool and fresh as it ever gets in Seattle. Grabbing some flex and a bag with some other equipment from the boot, Yolu left his car and immediately took cover in the shadows. At the end of the block lay his target. Yolu glanced at the printout his contact had given him just hours earlier. Cost him, it had, but it was well worth the money.
A glance at the printout told him that the editor stayed in a penthouse suite on the top floor; the smile spread across Yolu's face as he crept closer.

Yolu silently slipped into the building next door. It was an apartment building, and security could have been much tighter. The lone guard didn't even hear Yolu come in, and it was not until Yolu broke his neck that he even suspected anything to be amiss. Yolu's smile grew a little more.
"This is going to be easy," he thought and started up the stairs. The roof wasn't empty, but Yolu quickly fixed that as he cut the night-watch down.
"Sorry chummer, nothing personal."

The newsnet's skyscraper rose up next door. Yolu was about four-fifths up and about thirty-five meters across from its roof. The penthouse was only two floors above him and there was sure to be a well armed security force guarding the stairs, lift and roof. But not the bedroom window; it had not taken Yolu long to find this weak spot. He would be in and out without the computerized alarm system even thinking of becoming active— courtesy of another contact; a whiz with computers. Yolu was grinning. He loaded the crossbow with the suction bolt. After tying the thin flex cord to the end, he took aim just above-right of the window. Yolu waited. There was sure to be a guard on the roof who might hear the shot. He did not have to wait long, for soon enough a car pulled up to the building across the road. The sound of its engine was what Yolu had been waiting for. The nearly silent "thung" of the crossbow was completed masked by the car's steady hum. The bolt hit the wall, cord trailing behind, and held fast. Yolu quickly secured his end. Clipping himself onto the cord, he pulled himself across the gap. Yolu peered into the window, his smartgun link picking up the targets as they came into view. It was pitch black within, but that did not worry his cybernetics.

Shots could be heard from across the road. Yolu swore to himself; he would have to be quick. He pulled the glass cutter out and put it to effective use. More gun fire.
"Not very quiet," Yolu thought, "must be amateurs."
Yolu poked his gun through the hole in the glass, his target clearly visible. He would have liked to have entered the room, threatened the jerk, and heard him beg for mercy. But there was no time; next door had seen to that— the place would soon be swarming with cops. So he fired from the window. The body in the bed shook violently and fell out, as the bullets thudded in. A curled cry dying in the editor's throat. Across the road, all hell was breaking loose on the top floor. Yolu was grinning now and was in two minds whether or not to toss a grenade in. He decided that he had already overstayed his welcome. He swung back across the gap. Once across, he applied a small charge to the flex and the bolt on the far wall suddenly came lose. Yolu quickly collected everything, bundled it all into his bag and left the building. The police were swarming past and homing in on the building opposite, as Yolu drove home.

Later, with a grin swallowing the lower half of his face, he turned on the news. Four runners been arrested for killing a dragon. The facts appeared to be straight; well, almost. Nobody is dumb enough to take on a dragon. But otherwise: mission accomplished.

Game 10: The Feroll Adventure
Whilst undertaking the long and laborious task of trying to get valid documents from the infamous Feroll House of Papers, an affliction picked up from the encounter with an undead mummy became apparent. Driven by the fear of slowly rotting away, the heroes quickly sought out the famed cleric Mito, who, in return for the two silver swords (used to fight the above-mentioned undead), cured them of the plague. The heroes fled the residence moments later as Mito's house came under attack. The group then returned to Bolyan's boat, and successfully defeated three Oroot spitting snakes on the way.

Game 11: The Tests of Time
With renewed instructions from Alti Shann (given to the heroes by Mito earlier), the group proceeded to sail due west to Sharp Point. During this time, Casoe was plagued by visions and nightmares of spiders, whilst the rest of the crew were plagued by the sight of a huge shark, which passed harmlessly by. Upon reaching their destination, the group was confronted by an old hermit, and agreed to take the "Tests of Time". All of the heroes, except Casoe, passed their tests and the group was rewarded with a valuable map (which was later lost with Slyoak in game 32). Yet again, the heroes were forced to flee as the hermit's shack was attacked by a time rider induced time-blast. They rushed to the boat and escaped across the sea.

Game 12: The Call of the Forest
Whilst sailing on to Tilloniti, Casoe bought the cook's cat and named him Boris. The group also discovered Gnurr, a gnomish sage, who had been stowing away for several weeks. Once at Tilloniti, the group was attacked by Korpath, a time rider lord, riding a landshark. The end looked as if it were about to draw nigh for the heroes, until a large group of forest creatures came charging to their aid— fortunate since this battle was totally out of the heroes' league. Still trying to absorb what had just happened, the group was in no shape for their next encounter, a rhinoceros beetle— so they all just hid and waited until it had gone away. At long last, the group reached the rock men and recovered the third piece of the rod from their care.

"Slightly later, we were met by a scholar of languages,
who introduced himself as Beetroot or Cabbage or
something..."— Opand Rupdel, referring to the heroes
first meeting with Sage Rhubarb.

Game 14: Accidental Incidents
The team set a meeting date with Bolyan and then travelled to the Great Library of Lemonaris. The group learnt a little more about the rod and also met Sage Rhubarb and Sage Befin Welof. Befin was slightly shocked to see the adventurers, since he recognized them from a dream he had had the previous night (the plot thickens). The heroes returned to the inn and left early the following day to keep an appointment with Befin at his house— where he had promised to explain more. Hearing strange noises from inside, Shadow and Styer charged down the door, took one look, wheeled round and charged straight back out, with Korpath hot on their heels. A gargantuan battle ensued. With the aid of the heroes and a hastily summoned brass dragon, the mages and sages of the town where able to hold off the time riders' attack.

Opand, referring to Gnurr after his demise: "... we
pickled the gnome in a barrel... and we rolled the
barrel down a hill, just for good measure."

Game 16: Images from the Past
The group kept their appointment with Bolyan, but was saddened to learn that his cousin's fiancé, Aran Drever, had been kidnapped by some kind of strange undead creature. The bard and the thief (Bladner and Tekuna respectively) at once offered to travel in the opposite direction; they went to the library to track down some more of the bard's lost song. The rest of the group journeyed to the graveyard and were horrified to find Mort Wuntie, now an undead lacedon, behind all this (revenge for game 2). After some nifty spell work and hefty skeleton bashing, the group was able to free Aran. But yet again, Shadow's past caught up with him. He was shot by a suspiciously assassin-like arrow after the battle. The group quickly investigated the surrounding area and was able to apprehend one of the assassins, Ush Ingo. However, with sorrow-filled eyes and silent whimpering, Ush went from public enemy number one to paid companion in half-an-hour. The group returned, with Aran, to Bolyan, where Shallay Risp was joyfully reunited with her fiancé.
 

Creatures Encountered: Game 10: Spitting Snakes. Game 11: Giant Shark (Megalodon). Game 12: Common Whales, a Bulette, Unicorns, Pegasi, Centaurs, Brownies,  Sprites, Dryads, Korred, Pixies, a Sylph, a Rhinoceros Beetle and some Galeb Duhr. Game 13: Stirges. Game 14: A Brass Dragon. Game 15: Mongrelmen and a Poisonous Snake. Game 16: A Lacedon and some Skeletons.

Game Dates: Game 10: 6/1/93 - 7/1/93 Game 11: 7/1/93 - 8/1/93 Game 12: 8/1/93 - 13/1/93 Game 13: 13/1/93 - 15/1/93 Game 14: 15/1/93 - 17/1/93 Game 15: 17/1/93 - 25/1/93 Game 16: 25/1/93 Erratum: Last issue's Game Guide listed the dates for game 9 as 1/1/93 - 2/1/93. This should actually be 6/1/93.

Character: Tekuna Chand
Race: Human
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Class: Entrepreneur
Level: 8

Alternate Identities: Conina, Snowdrop, Snow Haired Lady, Lady Tekuna Chand of Rotan.
Family: Father, mother, sister, dog, cat, budgie. (Who reads this line anyway?) Oh, she also has a brother.
Enemies: Flurin Barbitona, Widapa, Shadow Kaylar (this had something to do with armour), Ayak.

Game Statistics: STR 7, DEX 18, CON 16 died 15 died 14 died 13, INT 8, WIS 8, CHA 8. Hit Points: 32.

"She is a lady of exquisite beauty, fascinating wit and superior intelligence!" -- Under duress

"The restrictive life of a lady of the court is unsuited to my wild and chaotic nature."

"A good thief always has something up her sleeve, and in her boots, and in her hair, and under her cloak, and..."

"What, me? Attack a black dragon with a dagger! Never!"

Oh, by the way, we really were serious about the mind-flayer.

• Resin from an oak tree
• One owl pellet
• Bread mould (blue bread mould is ideal; red can also be used, but large quantities are required)
• Half a flask of fresh pus
• Secret ingredient X

Melt the bread mould and resin over an open flame, until it is a runny liquid. Coat the owl pellet in the liquid and leave to harden. Suck the pellet until it has a bitter and slightly salty flavour. This ensures that the concentration of the resin is perfect.

Next, crush and grind it to a light beige powder. (A substitute of spores from a rare, wall-infesting mushroom is being investigated.) This powder must then be mixed in with the pus. Finally, add secret ingredient X to complete the Olymis mixture.

Finished Olymis is added in small, but effective doses to the bloodstream of the enemy to give the required reaction (or lack of it).

The story so far: A blind Owl shaman has been shunned by his Amerindian tribe for his unwanted revelations of death. He has foreseen another death. The death of the Sixth World!

The race is on. Who will get to him first? Those who seek to reform the world, or the Shadowrunners hired to defend the Native American Nations.

This adventure takes the runners deep into heart of the Native American Nations where a hive of darkness is gathering strength. Will they uncover it's secret and live long enough to begin the Dance of the Wolves!