Siege of Darkness: The Legend of Drizzt, Book 9
R. A. Salvatore
Language: English
Pages: 384
ISBN: 0786948698
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Gods Walk the Realms!
Rising up from the black depths of the Underdark, the drow once more meet the dwarves of Mithral Hall. Bruenor Battlehammer, with Drizzt at his side, won't go down without a fight--but they'll have to fight without Wulfgar or Catti-brie at their sides.
Into the Void (Spelljammer: The Cloakmaster Cycle, Book 2)
Underdark (Dungeons & Dragons 4th Ed: Supplement)
Tymora's Luck (Forgotten Realms: The Lost Gods, Book 3)
Dungeons and Dragons for Dummies (4th Edition)
Because this had been Mithral Hall’s only chance. Even if Drizzt had known that Matron Baenre herself was leading this march, he would have come out here, and would not have denied Bruenor, Regis, and Catti-brie the opportunity to accompany him. They had lost, but Drizzt meant to make their enemy hurt. “Fight on, demon spawn,” he snarled at the glabrezu, and he fell into a crouch, waving his blades, eager to give his scimitar the meal it so greatly desired. The tanar’ri straightened and held.
The only connection to the material world and Drizzt Do’Urden. The struggle went on for more time than any creature should have resisted. But though Guenhwyvar had not slid any closer to the breach, neither had the panther earned back any ground toward her pleading master. Finally, exhausted, Guenhwyvar gave a forlorn, helpless look over her shoulder. Her muscles trembled, then gave way. The panther was swept to the fiery breach. Matron Baenre paced the small room nervously, expecting a.
Diemrey nochtero,” Jarlaxle explained to them. “House Baenre will prevail.” His wry smile, filled with hope, and the eager way he clenched his fists, told his soldiers that such a prediction was a good thing. Zeerith Q’Xorlarrin, matron mother of the Fifth House, understood the significance of the makeup of the gathering. Triel and Gromph Baenre attended primarily to fill the two vacant spots at the spider-shaped brazier. One of those places rightfully belonged to K’yorl, and since they were.
Repaired, she knew. The rubble on the floor had already been cleared away, and the bloodstains of the dozen drow killed in the tragedy had long ago been scoured clean. But the pain of that moment, of Matron Baenre’s supreme embarrassment in front of every important matron mother of Menzoberranzan, in the very moment of the first matron mother’s pinnacle of power, lingered. The spearlike stalactite had cut into the roof, but it might as well have torn Matron Baenre’s own heart. She had forged an.
To fall. “Run on,” the drow ordered the assigned trap-springers, a handful of dwarves standing ready beside cranks that would release the ropes supporting the tunnel structure. Each of them in turn stared blankly at the surprising command. “They’re coming,” one remarked, for that is exactly why these dwarves were out in the tunnels. “All you will catch is kobolds,” Drizzt, understanding the drow tactics, informed them. “Run on, and let us see if we cannot catch a few drow as well.” “But.