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I actually simulated coin flips with a 4-sided die. If flipping a single coin, 1-2 = tails, 3-4 = heads. For two coins 1 = tails+tails, 2-3 = tails+heads, 4 = heads+heads.
The tarot deck I was using used the public-domain "Rider-Waite-Smith" images. The suit called "Coins" in the game rules is called "Pentacles" in this version.
The princess stood bare-footed on the crumbling stone, her shoes having proven too delicate for the hard journey to these remote ruins. Her gown, once extremely fine, now showed signs of wear; her tailor had designed it for sitting around in court, not scrambling over rocks and through thorns. As she had got closer to the ruins, the sword’s whispering had grown more frequent and harder to ignore. Speaking directly into her mind, it summoned images of incredible wealth and power, of the princess standing atop the bones of her kingdom’s historical enemies. She shook her head to clear the visions. These were not her dreams, the sword’s relentless desire for blood was not her own.
The princess stepped forward into the doorway of the ruin. It had been a long, hard, journey to reach this point and it was tempting to rest here, sheltered at long last from the steady drizzle she had endured for much of the way. She had expected the ruins to feel more oppressive, but this quiet, vine-strewn space was almost inviting. Nevertheless, she merely adjusted her pack and stepped forward.
The chamber she had entered was clearly once a grand entrance hall, the large statue of a grinning swordsperson must once have been a grandiose display of artistry, talent, and money, but now it was crumbling and beginning to merge with the stalactites that grew from the cracked ceiling. It reminded her of the sculpture hall back at home in the palace and she wondered if that too would one day meet the same sad fate, abandoned and left to decay.
She turned left, into a small chamber. A rusted lantern lay in front of a small shrine to a long-forgotten deity. To her, the small carved figurine appeared kind and peaceful, but the sword snarled and bade her to smash it. She inclined her head respectfully to the figure and exited the chamber, now more certain than ever that she must be in the right place.
Stepping back out into the main entrance hall, a shaft of light, that had not been previously visible, now illuminated the path to the north, which had previously been shrouded in darkness. What she had taken to be a solid stone floor was actually cracked and, in places, falling away into a seemingly bottomless cavern. Had she attempted to walk blindly through in the dark, she would have surely fallen down. The light faded as she crept around the edge of the pit, but she knew where to step now and made it safely to the other side. Looking back, she tried to see where the light had come from, but there was nothing there. She moved on.
After a short distance, the corridor turned a corner and the princess was surprised to see flickering lights further along. Surely nobody still inhabited these ruins? The sword trembled slightly in her hand, sensing her fear and anticipating a confrontation. “Hiding in these ruins, they must be weak, with me you can strike them down!”
She ignored it and crept forward, trying to listen out for any noises beyond the sword’s unpleasant urgings.
As she drew closer, she saw that the light came from torches mounted on the wall, flanking a recessed door. She peered through the keyhole and saw lights, but no people, on the other side. She twisted the handle but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. It was time to see what she remembered from her childhood lessons with the king’s shady spy chief. Her father had been incredibly cross when he found out that his daughter had been secretly learning the techniques of common criminals, but she had always enjoyed the opportunities to learn tricks of subterfuge and sleight of hand, anything to break the monotony of her official lessons on etiquette and propriety. She slipped a slender lockpick from the pocket sewn into the inside of her dress and inserted it carefully into the lock.
She fumbled at the pins inside the lock - this ancient door was not the same as the fine cabinets she had been taught on. Eventually the lock clicked open, but the pick snapped in the attempt, rendering it useless.
She opened the door slowly, stepping carefully into the new space. Tall shelves lined the walls, long since picked bare. Dark passages opened off at seemingly random intervals and she felt exposed and vulnerable. She hurried quickly to the first such passage and peered down into the shadows. All that greeted her eyes were more of the same dusty shelves, stretching into the dark.
As she was debating which route to take, a sudden noise caught her attention. A series of slightly muffled thuds arose from another passage slightly further down, followed by an indistinct exclamation. Heart racing, she ducked into the shadows and peered nervously round the corner. Her own feelings of worry mixed confusingly with the sword’s hunger for conflict. Shortly afterwards, a robed figure dashed out of the passage further down, cradling some battered books in their arms and looking over their shoulder as if being pursued.
She watched as the stranger, out of breath, leant against a pillar. They still seemed nervous, checking over their shoulder and cradling their books protectively. Now she could see them more clearly, the covers of the books appeared to be covered in strange symbols, a faint glow flickering erratically from them. The princess had never seen anything like it, although it triggered faint memories of dark tales she had heard as a child, warnings about old, forgotten magic that could be found in places such as this.
The stranger appeared to relax slightly and moved off down another corridor at a slower pace. The princess decided to do the same, continuing further along the corridor she was hiding in. It opened up into a larger space, the empty shelves disappearing into high, dark, vaulted ceilings.
As she walked though the tall room, towards the doorway at the other end, the princess began to get a creeping feeling that she was being watched. Three quarters of the way to the door, a pale creature dropped from the ceiling and landed in front of her. It looked like a large bat, with thin wings patchily covered in lichen. It’s eyes were intelligent and hungry. It darted towards her, claws outstretched. She lifted the sword, its desires and hers in a rare state of alignment.
She swung wildly at the creature, slicing the thin flesh on its right wing. It was enough to throw it off-balance and prevent its attack, but nowhere near enough to kill it. It flailed backwards, emitting a terrible shrieking scream that seemed to resonate inside the princess’ head, making her dizzy. She ran for the door, hoping that the beast was dazed enough not to immediately follow.
She sprinted through the narrow doorway just as the creature caught up. Its wingspan meant it couldn’t simply fit inside, but it poked its head through and gnashed at her with its overlong teeth. The sword shouted for her to finish the the fight, but her head was still spinning from the adrenaline and the lingering effects of the bat’s scream. She ignored its attempts to struggle through the narrow frame and ran on down the passageway.
She ducked into the first side-room she came across. A huge carving of a winged figure took up the entirety of one wall and the princess recognised its face as that of the statuette in the shrine that she had encountered near the entrance to the ruins. Below the carving was a sort of tall altar and she realised with a start that it had a narrow slot, roughly the width of her sword’s blade. Could this be what she was seeking? The reaction of the sword answered her question. It screamed in her head and jerked in her hand, desperate for her to leave this room. Grinning, she stepped toward the altar, but froze as she heard footsteps running towards the entrance behind her. Three powerful-looking robed figures burst into the room and pointed their own swords at her. She knew there was no way she could take them all on at once, but the sword saw its opportunity.
“Let me deeper into your mind. I can lend you my strength and these interlopers will not be able to touch us,” it cried, “you have no choice, we will become forever bonded but otherwise you will surely die here!”
The princess shuddered with revulsion at the thought of living her entire life with the foul mind of the sword twisted around her own. She leapt for the altar and thrust the sword into the slot. A wave of dark, choking smoke blasted from the altar and filled the room. She felt herself losing consciousness and falling to the ground, but the fear was mixed with euphoria; her mind was hers and hers alone, once again; the sword’s evil presence finally cleared.
The princess eventually awakened in an unfamiliar room, but it was not a cell or a dungeon. The inhabitants of these ruins did not dare harm her or attempt to hold her captive; they knew the power of the artefact she had been wielding and were amazed at her ability to control its grip on her mind for so long. At their request, she stayed with them in the ruins and accepted their offer to study with them the ancient magical texts they had been rescuing from the dangerous creatures that lurked in the dark. Despite the prejudices common in the cities, not all magic was as cruel and twisted as the sword had been. The ancient people who had built these ruins had once lived happy and peaceful lives using their magical knowledge and this small group of brave adventurers wished only to learn from their successes and mistakes, and to share that knowledge with the wider world.