120
As you drink greedily, you collapse, spitting up blood. Your dying body lies in the middle of the pool, and you close your eyes…
Some time later, you awaken, feeling perfectly fine. Your wounds have mysteriously healed, and you feel no pain whatsoever.
You decide not to dwell on it and set off: without a tribe, a thousand miles from your homeland, you have only your fists and a rudimentary grasp of the language to guide you on the path of legends.
You find yourself in a small valley surrounded by steep cliffs and lush vegetation. Except for this mysterious pool encircled by green grass.
Having realized the futility of trying to climb the cliff, you venture into the heart of the plants, alert.
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Suddenly, a sinister crack resounds beneath your feet. Immediately, you leap backward, fists raised, ready to strike.
On the ground lies a squat skeleton clad in rusty, decomposing chainmail. It is clearly a Dwarf, one of those small, human-like beings you have sometimes seen in the towns you have passed through. Beside it, deeply embedded in the ground, is a rusty axe, large enough to serve as a weapon. You easily pull it from the ground and find that it is still usable.
Searching the body, you find a small leather pouch that has mysteriously withstood the ravages of time. It contains only a few coins, a medium of exchange used in these parts, but it might come in handy. You tie it to your loincloth and continue your exploration.
Will you follow the river downstream from the basin, at 63?
Or will you venture deeper into the vegetation at 23?