Kevin the Adventurer and the Eye of Varn

By Robin Reed

Plot Twist Tales are like the classic books that let you choose what happens next, but they are for people of all ages!
Kevin is bravely slaying flagons of ale at his favorite inn when a sorcerer hires him to steal a jewel from a death cult. Soon he is saving a sacrificial victim from the cult and/or participating in a revolution against the King of the Gnomes. Mix every Lord of the Rings ripoff you've ever read, spoon in flavors of Monty Python and the slightly crazed, drunken stories your uncle tells before passing out, and you have Kevin the Adventurer and the Eye of Varn! Plot Twist Tales: you choose the next twist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin Reed
• Release date: Mar 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9780989924832

Robin Reed

Robin Reed lives somewhere in the vicinity of Los Angeles, with cats.

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Kevin the Adventurer and the Eye of Varn

Robin Reed

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 Robin Reed

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced by any means without the written permission of the author, except for short passages used in critical reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Interior Design by Steven W. Booth, www.GeniusBookServices.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Start Here

Hanging by a thread.

Crocodile teeth make a SNICK SNICK sound as they snap just an inch from Kevin the Adventurer’s heels. At least four of the brutes are in the water below, and it seems as if they haven’t been fed since Homan the Healer was born.

Kevin’s hands cramp, trying to hold onto the hempen rope. The strength of the rope and Kevin’s muscles are all that keep the crocodiles from feasting on this spring afternoon.

Looking up, Kevin sees daylight through the open trap door. I was just walking along, minding my own business, Kevin thinks, when the floor opened and I fell into this dark crocodilian feeding ground.

Of course, I’m trespassing in the cave where the mysterious Cult of Shoshi holds their hideous rituals. Maybe I should have realized that a death cult would have a few surprises in store for intruders.

I was only saved by the fact that someone strung a rope across the top of the pit, and I managed to grab it just in time. Either the cult likes to give people a chance to survive, or some previous victim managed to put up the rope. Either way, it was the only thing between life and becoming a reptilian repast.

How did this happen? Kevin wondered. I was sitting in my favorite tavern, the SHEEP’S CLAVICLE, and drinking an ale. An hour later I’m swinging from a thread over deadly snapping teeth.

How it all started.

Try to escape now.

How it all started.

My favorite seat by the hearth, an ale in hand, and no reason to get up and do anything all day long. Kevin is happy. None of that adventuring and thieving for me, not today. I’m still recovering from my brush with the Goblin Secret Police.

No, today I will sit here and be a people watcher. People, dwarves, elves, wizards, accountants, whatever creatures come through THE SHEEP’S CLAVICLE on this nice spring day.

Kevin lifts the tankard with one hand and takes a draught of ale. The other hand falls on Kevin’s purse, which hangs limply from his dragonskin belt, which was part of the booty from last year’s raid on the Castle of Neronji.

Not many ducats in that purse. Sip slowly or I won’t be able to drink all day, Kevin thinks.

A large man in a monk’s robe stands in the middle of the public room. He glances about as if trying to find someone. When he sees Kevin he makes a beeline for the hearth.

Kevin makes sure the short sword that also hangs from his dragonskin belt is loose in its scabbard and ready for action. The monk takes a chair, not caring that a dwarf is already sitting in it, and places it next to Kevin.

The dwarf, finding himself on the floor, protests loudly but is ignored by the monk. He picks himself and his dignity off the floor and retreats to a chair further away.

I want you to steal the Eye of Varn, the monk says to Kevin without introducing himself.

Agree to steal the Eye.

Tell the monk to go away.

Try to escape now.

Why bother to reminisce about what happened earlier? What matters now is that Kevin is hanging by a thin rope over four crocodiles who have set their table and announced that dinner is served.

Kevin strains mightily and gets one boot over the rope. So far so good, but the crocs are still trying to get their teeth into his other dangling foot. With a mighty groan, the adventurer pulls the reluctant leg up and hooks it over the rope also.

Now the crocodiles are eyeing a juicy rear end and betting amongst themselves which of them gets the fatty parts. Kevin sees that the place where the rope is attached is close to the trap door. If I can get there I can pull myself back through the door, Kevin thinks.

Kevin’s hands are sweating and slip on the rope. One hand flails down toward the lurking brutes below. A crocodile makes a mighty jump and SNICK, the nasty teeth snap so close that Kevin can smell the creature’s fetid breath.

You need some mouthwash, friend, Kevin says. The crocodiles don’t even chuckle at this attempt at levity.

Kevin’s only chance is to heave mightily on the rope and get to the trap door. Kevin is so tired, though. Surely a moment’s rest won’t make a difference.

Heave mightily.

A moment’s rest.

Agree to steal the Eye.

When the monk sits, Kevin can see into the cowl of his robe. He is bearded, and has a bulbous, reddened nose that suggests a lot of praying to the gods of wine and ale.

His eyes are penetrating, and look directly at Kevin without wavering.

Today is my day off, friend, Kevin says. Find another thief, they are as common as hen’s eggs in this town.

You are the one who stole the Janka Scroll from the tower of the wizard Besporo, the monk says.

Well, yes, Kevin says. It isn’t really stealing, Kevin thinks, if all I had to do was take it off the wizard’s corpse after an army of goblins trashed the tower and looted everything they thought was valuable. There was no need to get into that much detail with this monk.

Besides, I may have told the tale a little more dramatically in a tavern or two. Perhaps my reputation has spread further than I thought.

Then you are the one to steal the Eye of Varn, the monk said.

I told you, I’m not working today. Just for the sake of argument, though, where is this Eye? Kevin takes another swig of ale.

The Temple of Shoshi.

Kevin spits out the ale, spraying the table, the monk, and a nearby group playing cards. Sorry, sorry, Kevin says to the card players. Fortunately they are farmers, not mercenaries or the King’s soldiers. They mutter but don’t start a fight.

Are you nuts? Kevin says to the monk. The cult of Shoshi kills people for looking at them funny, much less invading their temple.

In response, the monk reaches into his robe and brings out a cloth bag. He drops it to the table and glittering ducats spill out. Enough to linger in taverns for years to come. He places a hand-drawn map next to it.

I’m your thief, Kevin says.

Go to wizard shop.

Have another ale.

Tell the monk to go away.

I’m not stealing anything today, friend, Kevin says.

You must, the monk growls. His bearded face twists into a grimace.

Nope, nuh-uh, no way.

You stole the Janka scroll from the tower of the wizard Bespero, the monk says.

I took it off his body after an army of goblins was done with the place, Kevin says.

I see, the monk says. Nevertheless, you must do this for me. He reaches into his robe and produces a cloth bag that clinks as it falls on the table. Golden ducats spill out.

Tempting, Kevin says. But I’m too comfortable here. To emphasize this, Kevin drains the tankard at hand and calls for another.

Very well. Have a day of debauch, the monk sneers. He puts his bag of ducats back under his robe. When you return to your hovel, you will find it burnt to the ground.

Whoa whoa, Kevin says. No need to get nasty. I was just negotiating. The place is just a rental, Kevin thinks. As a card-carrying adventurer I can’t settle down. Still, I have it fixed up pretty nice and have some stuff there I don’t want to lose.

Negotiations are over, the monk says. He produces a hand-drawn map and throws it on the table. Meet me here at this time tomorrow. With the Eye of Varn.

Go to wizard shop.

Throw map away.

A moment’s rest.

I know I can pull myself up through that trap door, Kevin thinks. I’ll just hang here for a minute and gather my strength.

Kevin uses a sleeve to wipe a sweaty brow. It’s hot in here, the adventurer thinks. It will be nice to get up into the cooler part of the cave.

Not thinking about the hand that was used to wipe sweat, Kevin lets it dangle too low. A crocodile makes a mighty leap and the hand disappears into the croc’s toothy maw.

Ow! Kevin says. Looking down, he sees a grinning croc hanging off the arm that hurts so much. Well, this is not what I expected to happen, he thinks.

The weight of the crocodile is too much for the human arm. It pulls off of Kevin’s body and falls with the croc into the water below. The four crocodiles begin to fight over this morsel.

I’ll just climb out of here now, Kevin says. It doesn’t happen. Kevin has only one hand to grip the rope.

Lightheaded from blood loss and wracked with pain, Kevin can’t hold on and falls. Soon the murky water roils with the feeding frenzy of the crocodiles. The water turns red.

End

Heave mightily.

Heaving mightily, Kevin pulls with more strength than ever before. The open trap door and its inviting light get closer. Reaching and stretching beyond all physical limits, Kevin manages to get a hand on the lip of the trap door.

In a risky move, Kevin lets go of the hempen rope with the other hand and swings, reaching upward toward the light. He remembers to pull both legs upwards just in time to prevent a toothsome crocodile, jumping as high as a crocodile can, from burying its dozens of teeth into those lower extremities. The crocodile falls back to the dank water below with a splash.

Both hands now rest on the edge of the trap door. All Kevin has to do is pull up with both arms and then fully emerge into

Reviews for Kevin the Adventurer and the Eye of Varn

[Graham Downs · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book was great! It definitely brought back memories of my youth, whiling away long hours playing Lone Wolf, Freeway Warrior, Usurper, and others.

It's a game-book, written in the third person - weird, because all the game-books I've ever played are written in the second person. It really worked, though. It's also hilarious, but with a title like that, I hope you're not expecting a story that takes itself too seriously!

There are some in-jokes for fans of the fantasy genre, in-jokes for fans of game-books, and in-jokes for independent authors ("Maybe one day I'll sell a book").

I died twice, and cheated a bit by returning to the section just before I died (bookmark OFTEN!). I finished the quest in about an hour, but I think I probably ended up taking the quickest path to victory. I might play it again and pick different options this time just to see what happens; I get the impression that the replay value is quite high.

The copy editing was good, and I didn't spot any typos or grammar issues, although there was one place where I made a choice and a character explained the exact same thing to me as before, as if he'd never done so. I doubt that was intentional.

Anyway, I think this is a really cool concept, and I can't wait for the next one!