Anime Let's play Single Female Warrior

[abnaxus]

All your life, you dream of adventure: knights, dragons, magic rings, chests of gold, and all the danger and glory that awaits a professional swordswoman. But every dream has a cost. You are on your way across the desert wastes to compete in the Warrior Games when your caravan is attacked. Orcs and bandits murder your father, capture your companions, and leave you for dead.

Now alone in the world, will you choose to seek glory, vengeance, treasure... or love?

In this licensed adaptation of an original 1980s fantasy gamebook, your choices will lead to one of 22 different endings!

A hot sun beats down on you even as sunset draws close.

You shift in your saddle as your father, General Hamroth, orders, "Halt!"

He motions you to dismount.

We're going to camp early tonight.

The caravaners who have been guiding you across the colored sands and rocky terrain of the wastes are hurrying. They use their robes and banners as tents against the sun.

Their leader, Ranth, salutes you and your father.

Great general, we are ready for the Warden.

Good.

Hamroth turns to answer your question before you can even ask, putting an affectionate arm around your shoulders.

My curious Tyrna. The Warden comes from the high elves who look after the valleys to the south. He must meet us and pass judgment before he can give us permission to cross their lands.

Change into battle dress. You have practice yet.

You groan, but stop as you see your father's eyebrow rise. You remind yourself that the reason you've come across the wastes is to toughen you on your journey to the Warrior Games.

You dress in light battle gear: ring mail, sword, small bow, with a dagger at your waist, over your dusty riding boots and trousers and full-sleeved blouse.

You lean over to braid your auburn hair so that you may tuck it under the lightweight helmet.

Father? Will we have time to visit the temple of Neron?

I want to see where he battled Slag and threw him down from the mountain!

The spot where the blue dragon died became a mighty spring, which spills into a lake and then runs across the desert as the river Ashkaraneth.

Someday, you hope, you will do deeds as glorious as Neron. It's why you're a warrior.

Hamroth shakes his head no.

I don't think so, Tyrna. It's dangerous here. Slag left more than destruction behind, he left a path of great evil that attracts others. Neron deserves our tribute, but we should hurry on our way.

Besides, you need to get to the Warrior Games on time or you'll have to wait until next year for your promotion.

But...

I know. You're worried it may be too late by then.

You finish his thought for him and give him a light kiss.

Don't worry, Daddy. I can be a girl and a fighter too. No one is going to steal my heart.

At least, you think, not until you've had the chance to do exciting things and perhaps win a great fortune!

The only treasure your father has left from his career is a gift from the elves, a cloak of concealment which he carries everywhere with him. It is a wonderful thing to own, but there are many other wonderful things in the world.

Your father sighs.

Don't be too sure of that. I thought I could be a father and a husband and a general, but your mother did most of the hard work for me.

It wasn't until your mother was gone and I had to take care of you myself that I realized how hard it could be.

Now, no more stalling. You have work to do! I will not have you out of shape at the games.

Suddenly, real screams tear the night.

Your companions run in confusion as terrifying war yelps come from what must be maddened orcs!

Attack!

Your father jumps to his feet, grabbing his elven cloak of concealment. He throws the cloak about you before drawing his sword.

Stay down, Tyrna!

He runs into the night, his sword readied to protect the fleeing wagoners.

Weapons clash and steel rings, shattering the once peaceful calm of the wasteland. You can hear Ranth giving his tribesmen orders to fight.

You can't see much through the cloak. It wasn't meant to be transparent, but you can hear the noise and the shouts and the cries of pain. Bodies thud to the ground near you.

Your heart beats wildly in fright! But you can't let your father fight alone against so many orcs.

They crash through the camp, gnashing their tusks and chasing the terrified caravaners. They can't see you as you race after your father, but your sword hangs in front of you as though enchanted. They yelp in fear.

You feel a little guilty – it is not a fair battle – but the orcs are swarming everywhere. You must help your father!

Even as you reach his side, he stumbles. His opponent howls in triumph. The orc leader shakes his war club in fury.

Your father doubles over, his sword falling! He has been wounded!

You step in front to protect him from another blow as the orc swings his mighty club.

Great pain and fire flashes through your head, and you sink into darkness.

 

[Azira]

The End.

Great LP dude!

 

[abnaxus]

You awake with cold water stinging your face.

Father? Where is he?

You struggle to sit up. The night has passed, and a bright morning makes your head hurt.

You are... elven!

Yes, luckily for you. Otherwise I'd never have spotted you still alive under that cloak of yours.

Tears sting your eyes as you look around and remember the desert battle. Your father's body is surrounded by many slain orcs.

You hold back your sorrow, thinking that he died honorably, defending others.

As your rescuer helps you stand, you see he is taller than you. Your chin reaches his broad shoulders. He cannot be a true elf.

Your father's warning of evil in the wastelands makes you wonder. You put your hand on your sword's hilt.

Who are you?

Gavin, Warden of these wastes. And you must be Tyrna, Hamroth's daughter.

Then you're the one we were waiting for when the orcs struck.

I, too, hate orcs. I came to protect you.

You were too late!

Sadly, you bend over to gather the goods scattered from your pack. You notice that few of the bodies are caravaners, though dead orcs lie everywhere. Ranth and his tribesmen have disappeared.

As you look, footprints and a faint trail show that the orcs have taken the caravaners prisoner. You shudder at the thought of the horrors they must be experiencing.

Better to die than be enslaved by orcs! Your father's death was in vain unless you rescue them! Quickly, you retrieve his sword.

Gavin knocks it from your hand.

Take nothing! The orcs will be back. They remember every piece of loot they have left behind.

You stare. Already you miss your father terribly. You have nothing left of your father but the elven cloak and memories.

You cannot let his death be useless. You must go after Ranth and his tribesmen. How can a cold-natured elf, Warden or not, understand?

I must do something!

What can you do?

You don't answer right away. Does Gavin have another reason for being late – or not caring? Murderous orcs don't seem to bother him, though elves and orcs have warred countless generations.

You have the trail sign clearly before you. Perhaps it would be better for you to go on alone after the caraveners.

Yet even if you found the orcs, you would be outnumbered. You have a lot to learn about fighting, and, truthfully, you don't have much stomach for killing after last night. It was not as glorious as you had imagined.

You think of Neron and his temple. Perhaps you could get aid there, from pilgrims or maybe even the spirit of the paladin himself.

Or, you think, you could stay with Gavin and hope he will help you. You hesitate, unsure of what to do.

Gavin touches your shoulder.

You can do nothing. We must leave immediately in case the orcs return.

You stab your sword at the sky.

I can't leave! I need justice for my father!

There's only one of you. What can you hope to do?

You feel uncomfortable, for there is a strange expression on his face. He waits for your answer. You must decide.

 

[Dayyālu]

You step in front to protect him from another blow as the orc swings his mighty club.

Great pain and fire flashes through your head, and you sink into darkness.

For a moment I feared that this was to be that kind of game.


Let's go full retard: TRAIL THE ORCS ON YOUR OWN


This woman is no Lone Wolf, better to get her killed as soon as possible. *sigh*. A Forum LP/LR of Lone Wolf would be a mess, though.

random 80' illustration to clean my eyes from the generic contemporary art

 

[abnaxus]

I'll see them roast before I quit!

I see. Well, the heart filled with the need for violence feels little else.

I will not help you with your quest.

Cold elf!

This is foolishness, Tyrna. What if the orcs double back?

Then I'll fight them that much faster!

And when you run out of water?

Then I'll dig pits in the sand and hope they gather moisture, or that the orcs and I meet sooner!

I won't leave anybody to the mercy of the orcs. I've got to rescue the caravaners.

 

[Azira]

She emo?

 

[Hirato]

May as well admit it and form the Temperance Arcana social link

 

[SerratedBiz]

Tough it out. The Chaos gods won't take a quitter as sacrifice.

 

[abnaxus]

I'm sorry. I – I can't keep going. My head thinks it's a drum and my water skin has barely anything in it.

That's all I need to know.

A foolish warrior is soon a dead one.

Does he admire you for showing weakness? How strange!

This is Stormseeker. At my command, he will carry you.

The intelligent creature whickers and eyes you as you admire him.

As for water, the Ashkaraneth is ahead of us. The orcs, it appears, needed water as badly as you, for the trail shows they have already been here and gone.

Stormseeker says that he barely catches the scent of water. I don't understand it. Stay here.

And he leaves you in the shelter of a broken rock while he runs forward to the mirage.

The instant he breaks the image of water, a shriek fills the air

Stormseeker rears.

Run! Run while you can!

The sand devil veers at the sound of his voice. Prey on foot attracts it. The spout of sand and gravel heads toward him.

As Stormseeker whinnies and dances in fear, you watch it traveling toward Gavin. Its pattern is a little odd, almost circular.

You are almost too frightened to think straight, but you must! You might be able to reach Gavin before it does and carry him out of reach of the vortex.

On the other hand, the sand devil seemed to think you more of a menace than Gavin. You might have a chance attacking it directly.

 

[Hirato]

attack the sand devil!

 

[Azira]

This is inane. We should vote for the most derp choices whenever possible.

Yep. Lets attack the whirling vortex.

 

[SoupNazi]

This has been really stupid so far. Let's make it even stupider and attack a whirlwind with a sword.

 

[Kz3r0]

Attack the sand devil!

 

[abnaxus]

Hang on, Tyrna, I'm coming!

 

[Azira]

Yeah!

 

[Hirato]

It's okay, We'll get it on New Game+!!

 

[Dayyālu]

*frantically searches for the lost number of the previous encounter, turning a page after the other*

*"Ok, that never happened*

Let's keep the nostalgia up, but someone should explain why this was ported and the countless better gamebooks of my youth weren't. Even the shitty AD&D inspired ones are nicer.

Rescue Gavin

 

[abnaxus]

To water!

But the water was a mirage!

Gavin speaks into your ear.

The water in the riverbed will stop it.

What river?

The wind snatches away your words.

The devil whirlwind howls in your ears and you can almost feel claws of stone and sand raking at your back. Stormseeker may run like the wind, but this is a wild wind and nothing could outrun it!

His hooves thunder upon the desert, mane whipping in your face as the two of you lean down upon his neck and hold tight.

Gavin's breath is hot on the back of your neck and his arms tight about your waist. This is a race for your lives, and you are losing!

There!

He points at the dark, angry trench crossing the wastes in front of you.

But there's no water!

Stormseeker plunges into the empty riverbed. Damp sand sprays up from his hooves. It churns into the sand devil, which halts abruptly.

Water enough.

This is the Ashkaraneth – or what is left of it.

You slide off the horse to rest him.

What has happened?

I don't know. The gods ordained that the Ashkaraneth would always flow.

I have a feeling the orcs are at the bottom of this! They're great miners.

Tyrna, you were right. We must follow them, and hurry!

A small piece of cloth caught on a bush catches your eye. You bend down and pluck if off.

It is sand-colored, with a black band. It looks familiar.

Look, Gavin! It's part of Ranth's robe. Ranth is the leader of the caravaners!

Good. Now we know we're on the right track.

He breaks into a trot. He does not seem to feel tired, but you do. You have been many days in the wasteland heat, using water sparingly all that time. You feel as though you could drink a river.

The orcs came this way.

He points to a blue shimmer at the foot of the mountains.

That is the lake, so at least the spring gives out water.

That looks like orcish handiwork. Could they have dammed the river?

Perhaps. Though... why?

Gavin's voice trails off as he looks around.

The captives were brought through here, there's no doubt of it.

Then we know where to hit them – right at the watergate.

Gavin shakes his head.

I don't want to risk you or the caravaners.

That waterfall brings water from deep under mountain to the river. There's a passage behind it, leading underground.

I don't know if it will lead us around the lake to the orcs, but it's worth a try. It gives us a chance to go in quietly.

I think we should go in directly.

Gavin looks at you, that strange expression on his face that you saw earlier.

Then he looks away.

It is your quest as much as it is mine. I will follow you wherever you go.

 

[Hirato]

Sneak.

 

[SoupNazi]

Go straight!! Just go for the stupid stuff.

 

[Azira]

Straight.

 

[abnaxus]

You press your heels to Stormseeker.

Then follow me!

Despite your urging, the horse stops in his tracks. Gavin, a little out of breath, places his hand on the stallion's dapple-gray neck. His face is twisted.

Wasted. All that water, wasted.

But won't it help wherever it touches?

Yes... and no. Whatever grows there now will be too flooded to thrive.

And there are some areas of the wastes so blasted by the blue dragon Slag that their evil keeps any good from happening. The valleys of my people need that water!

Without saying a word to each other, it is clear the tunnel will have to be entered.

Gavin prepares to go. You shudder. The thought of being underground and in the dark suddenly frightens you.

Make me a torch.

Do you wish to blind me?

B-better you than me.

Why not stand in the tunnel mouth and shout to all the orcs that you're coming in?

Tyrna, you're being really stupid.

I am not! Do you expect me to stumble around when I can't even see? How do you expect me to draw my sword and fight if something happens?

You can go ahead or follow behind, but I'm not going anywhere that I can't see!

He stops.

I'm sorry.

There's isn't anything to be afraid of, Tyrna, if you would only trust me a little.

Trust somebody who just tried to shake your head from your shoulders?

You stare at him, hoping your face isn't all red and blotchy. Your chin sticks out a little, the way it used to when your father scolded you.

Gavin sighs.

If you can't trust me to guide you down, then go back and follow me around the lake to the waterfall. I can let you use a torch in there most of the way.

Tyrna, be sensible.

Or give up this crazy idea of yours and come home with me.

Let me take care of you, always. I promise that I'll bring back fighters to rescue the caravaners. Remember, I came this far to be with you.

I can't do it!

He groans in exasperation.

What makes you so sure the waterfall tunnel might come close to the dam?

The wind shifts. His elven-gold hair blows gently.

The lair of the blue dragon Slag runs underneath the foot of the mountains. All his tunnels and all his treasures lie below us.

Gold! Dragon gold and jewels!

No wonder the orcs are mining here.

And you knew it all the time.

He does not answer.

Anger drives away your fear for a moment. The treasure of the dead monster lured the evil orcs across the desert to kill your father!

You curl you hand around your sword hilt.

We'll face an army, sooner or later.

Perhaps, but I prefer later.

Because I am a girl and you don't think I can hold my own?

No!

He takes you by the shoulders.

Because you have awakened the human side of my feelings.

I am only half elf, Tyrna. My mother was a human girl who chose to follow my father back to the valleys.

I could not bear to see you hurt.

He cups the side of your face gently, and then released you. He clears his throat.

Please. Trust me.

 

[Hirato]

The writing


Trust he who shakes us violently!

 

[MrContinuity]

So much patriarchy in one game.

Into the cave, women have a horrible sense of direction anyway.

 

[Ninjerk]

Is there going to be sex?