Treasure Hunts

As you find yourself on firm ground again, the will-o-the-wisp reappears behind you. “You don’t want to crush a minority small-business-thing, do you?” it whines. “Guiding people out of here is my only means of support, and the competition will kill me. Look, why don’t you just take these three obols and never come back.”

“Aha!” exclaims the Mathematician. “I have the answer now! Islandia—and in fact, the entire planet—will be swallowed up by the sun in 52 billion years!” You thank the absent-minded number-cruncher and decide to leave the City again.

The attendant’s jaw drops as he listens to your solution. “You’re right! Tremendous! Come this way!” He leads you to the Queen and explains your answer. “You have our thanks, stranger,” Her Highness intones. “Bursar, reward our faithful vassal.” A nervous man presses one of the medallions into your hand. “Come,” continues the Queen, “Sit…

“Estimable thinker,” the Queen addresses you. “Twice today you have rendered us valuable service. How may we repay you?” “Well,” you say. “I am trying to find out the truth behind these rumors of destruction. Have you any knowledge of Islandia’s fate?” The Queen frowns. “Our kingdom is, of course, secure. It shall continue unabated…

You feel a tug at your sleeve. It is another merchant. “You have a formidable talent, my friend,” he remarks. “Can I interest you in a small problem? Your answer to it is worth three obols to me.” “What is it?” you ask. Three of my traders had purchased a load of bananas—between 50 and…

A lonely clock tower pierces the noonday sky. Twelve dolorous knells drown out the greeting you call out to the wizened old man leaning out the window. When the bells have stopped, you shout up again to get his attention. “Are you the Timekeeper?” “Of course I am!” the old man yells back, startled. “How…

Stranded on the shore here are the remains of nearly a hundred ships. As you stare in wonder at the haunting sight, rough hands grab you from behind. Before you can say “I’ve been captured by pirates!”, you’ve been captured by pirates. “Haw!” They cackle. “Another victim for the sacrifice to Jolly Roger, Lord of…

You arrive in the Vale and begin mingling with the locals, trying to bring up the topic of The Sorceror without insulting anyone. The responses are, to say the least, curious: A Valeman named Arthur asks you: “Am I the Sorcerer?” A Valeman named Bernard asks you: “Am I the type of triber who could…