Dragonlance Classics: Dragons of Despair

"My thanks." Goldmoon smiles at all of the companions, happy to have found others who wish to find the true gods. Her face clouds again, as a less pleasant thought occurs to her.

"But I do worry about those creatures asking of the staff. I thought myself and Riverwind were the only two who knew of its existence."
 

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"Do not fear my lady. My sword and my honor will protect you on our journey"

This could lead to the proof we have been searching for all these years. Kiri-Joliath lend strength to my arm."
 


Otik finishes preparing eight bundles of food and gratefully accepts some steel coins in payment. "Come back soon," he says. "I'll ask some of the boys to set aside supplies for fixing up your houses. I know you want to do the work yourselves, but winter is coming soon."

You take the southern exit from Solace, heading around Crystalmir Lake. The huge vallenwood trees tower above soft forest paths. Sunlight dapples the floor of the woods, and sparrows and squirrels quarrel overhead. The musty smell of fallen leaves rises through the fragrance of late wildflowers.

The road turns west at the southern end of the lake, and the Solace Stream sparkles beneath an ancient stone bridge. Water tumbles out of the forest, over the rocks, and towards the Southpass that lies between the south Sentinel Peaks. West of the bridge, the road splits in two, branching to the south and west. Both roads wind among the great Vallenwoods, whose boughs form a brilliant autumn canopy over the roadway. Prayer's Eye Peak lies two miles to the west, while the southern road leads to Gateway.
 

Tas looks to the west, and starts digging in his pack.
"I think I made a map of this place.. Now where did I put that?" He says as he sits down with his pack in his lap, flinging things out of the way... including a few forks and a silver spoon or two.
 

Tanis paused along the path leaning against a large maple tree, relaxing in the shade as he waited for his slower companions. Sighing, he took a sip of water before replacing the waterpouch on his belt. It was filled with the sweet water of the lake and would soon become a luxury the further away from Solace that they got.

There was just something about being out in nature that made the half-elf come alive. There was just something special about it to his elven senses, it had a rythm all its own, one that he has a hunter understood and could read like Raistlin could read a book. He smiled at the others as they caught up to him. "I think we should continue on to Prayers Eye Peak to find that story-teller. If we don't find him its always a nice serene place to eat lunch."
 

Sturm nods in agreement with Tanis, hoping to find evidence of the return of the True Gods quickly. This mission is, perhaps, more important to Sturm than any of the others. After witnessing the decline in the Knighthood in Solamnia, Sturm is more determined than ever to bring back proof of the Old Gods. The Knighthood is inexorably linked to the triumvirate of Old Gods, and Sturm is confidant that their return will also signal a return of the glory of Solamnia.
 

Flint nods to Tanis and takes a long drink from his waterskin. Thinking to himself Story-tellers and old gods... hmph... oh well at least I am happy to be out with the lad again on some new adventure. Makes me feel a hundred years younger
 

I definitely should have invested the time and resources to acquire a Fly enchantment. Raistlin thought as he labored down the path toward where Tanis rested. It's just as well for I most likely would not have used it for that would have revealed the extent of my powers - and that is never a good idea until one is ready. At least the weather is agreable.

Raistlin coughed again from deep within and hunched over just thirty feet from his goal. His long dextrous fingers withdrew a handkerchief from within the folds of his robes and he surreptitiously dabbed at his mouth. Returning the handkerchief to his robes, Raistlin rose and continued his trek, batting away his brother's offers of help. He would not have them stop on his account. It was unthinkable.
 

The flaming colors of fall surround you, and an autumn breeze ripples through your hair. To the southwest, the white-capped outline of Prayer Eye Peak soars in the distance. Barely visible from here, a sharp crack splits the peak as though it consisted of two hands pressed together.

There is no sign of other travellers near the Peak. If the storyteller came this way, he must have stayed on the western road or strayed into the farmlands to the north. It's unthinkable that he would head south, for Darken Wood lies that way.
 

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