You spy a wizened old crone stooped over a cauldron of some foul-smelling concoction. With a cunning glint in her eye, she raises a shrivelled claw at the Warriors…
Roll 1d6 to find out what happens:
- 1: With a shrieking cackle, the old crone appears to melt into the shadows, calling for her minions. Draw two Event Cards to see what trouble the old witch summons.
2: Shrieking obscenities and heresies at the top of her ancient lungs, the crone curses one of the Warriors. One Warrior chosen randomly using the Warrior Counters looses one point of Luck for the rest of this Adventure. Draw another Event Card. - 3-4: With a cry of pure malice, the crone directs a blast of black magic at one of the Warriors. One Warrior (chosen using the Warrior Counters) suffers 2D6 damage that ignores armour. The Witch immediately vanishes with a sorcerous thunderclap.
- 5-6: The crone says in a withered voice, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” and offers the Warriors the chance to drink from her cauldron. If they do drink the foul-tasting brew, they immediately gain 1D6 Wounds back (roll separately); this may temporarily take them above their Starting Wounds score.


With an impressive flourish, you parry the rusty blade of your opponent and slam your shield into it’s sword-arm, sending it’s crude weapon arching through the air!
Backing away from the beast bearing down on you, you stumble on some loose masonry, throwing you off balance even as the creature lunges for your throat!
With a savage thrust, your blade is battered out of your hand and sent spinning across the floor. Defenceless, you scramble frantically for your lost blade…
A cold draught makes the skin on the back of your neck crawl, the walls are bearing in on you and you can’t shake the feeling that something is watching you from the shadows beyond the lantern light…