By James Wyatt
The start of an event that would shake the realm of Eberron! A struggle hero, his brain damaged by way of the wonders he witnessed on his final challenge for his state, has spent years within the inner most, darkest felony in the entire international. Wallowing in melancholy and ever at the verge of insanity, he's stuck without notice whilst a band of strangers breaks him out. yet his rescuers do not precisely have his most sensible pursuits at middle. The magic relic that broke his once-brilliant brain could be the key to preventing world wide destruction--and no matter if he lives or dies rather does not difficulty them.
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Extra resources for Storm Dragon: The Draconic Prophecies, Book 1 (Bk. 1)
Example text
The Storm Dragon is ready to claim what has been set aside for him. But you have a part to play. You must—” Haldren cut the dragon off. ” Vaskar drew his head back on his long neck, lifting it high. Clearly, the dragon would not lower himself to asking for help, but Haldren had no such qualms. ” Haldren leaned forward, letting the light of the campfire dance on his face. “I’ve been listening to you for three years, and it’s clear I haven’t heard a tenth of what you know about the Prophecy. Vaskar has been studying it in Argonnessen for six human lifetimes, and there are gaps in his understanding—gaps only you can fill.
It seems the most likely candidate,” Haldren said. “One can never be certain,” Vaskar responded. “Your century of war is not the only desolation this world has known. You humans are too quick to assume everything in the Prophecy applies to your works. Some dragons would argue that the Prophecy doesn’t even acknowledge your existence, though of course I think they are mistaken. ” Gaven watched as Haldren and Vaskar dissected the Prophecy, ignoring him now. He was glad for the respite from questions.
Bordan hid a smirk behind his hand as the Old Rock searched for a response to all these oaths and boasts. Finally, his eyebrows bristling again, he blurted, “Well, what are you waiting for? ” Bordan was the first out the door. * * * * * Bordan paced the courtyard of Dreadhold, ignoring the drizzle of rain that heralded a larger storm. Stark stone walls loomed over him, windowless and forbidding. Stout dwarf guards watched him from ledges on all sides, crossbows in their hands and axes at their belts.