All Shadows Fled (Forgotten Realms: The Shadow of the by Ed Greenwood

By Ed Greenwood

The Shadow Spreads

The Time of problems had nearly handed. The chaos of spilled blood, lawless strife, monsters unleashed, and avatars roaming Faerûn used to be attaining an end.

However, no longer so those that stroll in Shadow.

The dreaded and insidious Shadowmasters discover that they've one final likelihood to grab keep an eye on whereas chaos wrecks havoc on all the nation-states, and in doing so seal the destiny of not only their archenemy Elminster, yet all of Mystra's minions as well.

Darkness threatens to envelop all Faerûn.

The shadows loom.

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All Shadows Fled (Forgotten Realms: The Shadow of the Avatar, Book 3)

The Shadow Spreads

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Extra resources for All Shadows Fled (Forgotten Realms: The Shadow of the Avatar, Book 3)

Example text

It appears as an opalescent large gem, 5 inches in diameter. This gem is one of a set of three that have a foretold destiny in the desert. That story is told in “Oasis of the White Palm” and “Lost Tomb of Martek,” the other two modules in the Desert of Desolation Series. optional enbinc; At the end of the module’s play, the DM may want to provide a story/ending for the players to wrap things up. The following scenario is provided as an optional ending to the module. SCENARIO: To be used if the party has succeeded in leaving the tomb with both the ruling staff and the Star Gem of Mo-pelar: Stretching under the sun to the sharp and distant horizon, a silence hangs heavy in the still dry air.

Their only outside interests are gambling, wine and sports. The most common group of native folk encountered in this adventure are the Nomad Dervishes. These strange nomads range in age from 15-60 years. They are a dark people, rough from the desert winds and sand. Aliens wherever they go, they roam the desert on an eternal holy mission. Their mission in life is to protect the religious freedoms and holy shrines of all nations-regardless of what the specific beliefs of those nations or shrines might be.

The tightening whirlwind rises t o a jarring crescendo as the sand and wind crash in upon the temple and tomb. Whirling winds and sand sing past you, a chorus of a thousand voices: the hopes and cries of a land long dead, and the name of a hapless pharaoh-Amun-re. Only the awesome pyramid itself can be seen. Its forbidding form stands in dark majesty through the winds. The sandstorm turns to a spiral above the tomb, rising in its rage to glorious heights, bends westward-and takes flight. And all is still once more.

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