Amber Quest

Welcome, adventurer! You stand at the threshold of an uncharted world. Where would you like to journey? A medieval kingdom? Futuristic metropolis? Magical realm? Or perhaps you'd prefer to tell me what this universe is?

You arrive in medieval Gdansk, a bustling Baltic port city. Tall brick buildings line narrow cobbled streets. The harbor teems with merchant ships. City walls surround you, while church spires pierce the sky. Where would you like to go first?

You push through the weathered door of “The Amber Anchor.” Inside, sailors and merchants crowd wooden tables. Salt-tinged air mixes with the smell of ale and fish stew. A burly barkeep polishes mugs while a one-eyed captain tells tales in the corner. What will you do?

“That'll be 15 silver pieces, friend,” the barkeep says skeptically. “Quite generous for a stranger.” The tavern quiets as patrons turn to look. You notice your coin purse feels lighter than expected. Can you afford this bold gesture?

The barkeep's weathered face breaks into a smile. “Ah, good question! Years ago, a merchant paid his tab with an anchor-shaped amber charm. Said it saved his ship from a sea monster. Hung it above the door for luck ever since.”

The barkeep chuckles. “Not at all! Old Henrik still sails these waters. Claims giving the anchor away doubled his luck. He's due back any day now.” He points to a corner table. “That's his usual spot. Always has new tales.”

The barkeep laughs heartily. “If only it were that simple! Henrik says it's not about giving away treasures, but the right treasure to the right place.” He leans closer. “Some say he found that amber in a forgotten cave east of the city…”

“The cave, eh?” The barkeep raises an eyebrow. “Head east along the shore past the lighthouse. Look for amber washed ashore—the cave entrance is nearby, half-hidden by rocks.” Outside, the afternoon sun breaks through clouds as you leave the city's eastern gate.

You follow the coastal path, waves crashing against rocks below. The lighthouse stands sentinel behind you as gulls circle overhead. After an hour's walk, you spot amber pieces glinting in the sand. Nearby, between two large boulders, a dark opening beckons.

Standing before the cave entrance, you feel a strange warmth emanating from within—unusual for Baltic shores. The opening is narrow, requiring you to stoop. Amber pieces are embedded in the rock face, glowing faintly. The tide is rising, suggesting this entrance might not remain accessible for long.

You search your belongings but lack proper materials for a sign. Gathering driftwood and using a sharp stone, you manage to scratch crude letters. Without rope, you prop it against rocks near the entrance. The rising tide will likely wash it away soon.

You gather rocks from the shoreline, carefully stacking them around your warning sign. The makeshift barrier looks more substantial now. The sign will likely withstand the tide longer. As you work, you notice more amber pieces near the cave—some unusually large and oddly shaped.

After several minutes of searching, you find an amber piece roughly the size of your palm. With some imagination, its rounded shape with small protrusions could resemble a hamster. Holding it up to the light, you see darker inclusions inside that appear like tiny eyes and paws.

You retrace your steps along the shore as the sun begins to set. Back at The Amber Anchor, the evening crowd has grown louder. The barkeep notices your return, eyes catching the glint of amber in your hand. “Found something interesting, did you?”

The barkeep's brow furrows in confusion. “Killer… hamsters?” He bursts into laughter. “That's a new one! Though…” He lowers his voice. “Sailors do speak of strange chittering sounds from those caves. Most blame rats or the wind, but who knows what lurks in the darkness.”

The barkeep glances toward a hooded figure in the darkest corner. “That one might. Arrived yesterday on Henrik's ship. Claims to collect amber with 'stories.' Hasn't spoken much, but watches everything. Paid with strange coins no one's seen before.”

“Strange things, those coins,” the barkeep whispers. “Triangular, not round. Made of copper with amber centers. Symbols I've never seen—not Polish, not German. Harbor master couldn't place them either, but they shine like real gold when held to light.”