Waterdeep: Forgotten Realms: The Avatar, Book 3
Language: English
Pages: 0
ISBN: B00ATEALQU
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The streets of Waterdeep...
Where danger lurks round every corner as the avatars of the gods seek the Tablets of Fate.
Where Cyric and Myrkul, god of death, plot to capture Midnight and twist the Tablets to their own dark ends, imperiling the very existence of Faern.Where the destiny of the world will be decided and a new pantheon of gods will rise into the heaven.
Bleeding Edge #2: Beyond the Towers
All Shadows Fled (Forgotten Realms: The Shadow of the Avatar, Book 3)
Dawn of Night (Forgotten Realms: The Erevis Cale Trilogy, Book 2)
Queen of the Demonweb Pits (Greyhawk)
Take passage across the Dragonmere to Ilipur, where they could join a caravan bound for Waterdeep. They had made it only as far as the Starwater Bridge when six Zhentilar had ambushed them. Kelemvor had wanted to stay and fight, but Adon had wisely insisted upon fleeing. Though the green-eyed warrior had been strong enough to fight, Adon and Midnight had been too weary to face two-to-one odds. Kelemvor doubted that the Zhentilar or the Wheloon Watch was pursuing them. The watch consisted of.
Prison. The liquid had dried into eighteen inches of clear, crystalline rock. Inside, the avatar continued to stare at Midnight. “I hope so,” Adon replied, resting his own gaze upon Midnight’s weary face. Despite a fitful night of sleep, Midnight woke just an hour after dawn. Slivers of light slipped through the seams in the window shutters, illuminating her room in eerie green tones. She pulled her cloak on and opened the window. Where the sun should have hung was an immense, multifaceted.
Deflated the spirits of both Kelemvor and Adon. As they scrambled to follow, Kelemvor whispered, “How much longer must we wait before she’ll let us forgive her?” “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Adon responded. It had taken them nearly two days to climb the east side of the saddle, but it took only a quarter that long to descend the west side. Cold and itching from the black rain, the three companions reached the ridge separating the lake and the forested canyon just before dusk. Kelemvor noticed a.
To cross the plains, and so will we.” Adon started to kick dirt on the fire, but Kelemvor stopped him. Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, the fighter turned toward the river. Fifty feet away, the woman who had been watching them was approaching. The cleric followed Kelemvor’s gaze. “Is that you, Midnight?” he called. The woman continued to approach. “No, it’s not,” she replied, her voice soft and melodious. “May I approach your camp anyway?” Having spent the night staring into the fire,.
Smell them. Then, thinking about how slowly the caravan moved, the warrior began to suspect the drivers were not what they appeared to be. “Close the gate!” he yelled to Adon, grabbing the beam they had used to lever the door into its current position. “What do you mean?” the cleric demanded, confused. Like Kelemvor, he smelled something foul. But he assumed it was merely the horses—or something in their packs. The green-eyed fighter cursed and pushed one end of the beam toward the cleric.