#flint fireforge

Mods are used for unique faces and hair styles. Tasslehoff is the only one I'm dissatisfied with. Then again, Elmore always made him look like an old man so...

Bonus are a few of my characters I've played. First is my wild magic sorcerer OC Yurielle from my Dragonlance fanfic The Star and The Hourglass because I love her and thinks she's neat. Next is Venilia, my tiefling monk of the four elements I ran on honor mode. Then Ariallah, my drow draconic sorcerer/spore druid redeemed dark urge. Then is Morouk, my fallen Aasimar barbarian evil dark urge (sadly, I had to delete the mods for him because certain patches completely broke these saves, but he was fun!) Lastly is my newest character Usha, half-orc spore druid evil dark urge. This save is replacing my fallen aasimar. She will build her castle with bones...

Autumn twilight- Tasslehoff, Tanis, Flint

Cover art I did for the D&D Fanmade manual “Autumn Twilight” by the “Dragonlance Nexus”: a conversion from AD&D to D&D 5th edition of the original game module. Coming soon on DMGuild. This painting was commissioned by the Dragonlance Nexus: a fanart about the very beginning of Dragons of Autumn Twilight by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman: Tanis Helf-Elven, Tasslehoff Burrfoot, and Flint are about to return to the Inn of the Last Home in Solace.Of course, the rock under the tree on the right, near Flint, is “that” rock. Fans will know.

Work in progress and more information on my website: https://greenedera.com/portfolio/solace-dragonlance-nexus/

Created on: 08/05/2022

From the north came danger, as we knew it would:

In the vanguard of winter, a dragon's dance

Unraveled the land, until our of the forest,

Out of the plains they came, from the mothering earth,

The sky unreckoned before them.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One from a garden of stone arising,

From dwarf-halls, from weather and wisdom,

Where the heart and mind ride unquestioned

In the untapped vein of the hand.

In his fathering arms, the spirit gathered.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One from a haven of breezes descending,

Light in the handling air,

To the waving meadows, the kender's country,

Where the grain out of smallness arises itself

To grow green and golden and green again.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, the long land's keeping,

Nurtured in distance, horizons of nothing,

Bearing a staff she came, and a burden

Of mercy and light converged in her hand:

Bearing the wounds of the world, she came.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next from the plains, in the moon's shadow,

Through custom, through ritual, trailing the moon

Where her phases, her wax and her wane, controlled

Ascended through hierarchies of space into light.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One within absences, known by departures,

The dark swordswoman at the heart of fire:

Her glories the space between words,

The cradlesong recollected in age,

Recalled at the edge of awakening and thought.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

One in the heart of honor, formed by the sword,

By the centuries' flight of the kingfisher over the land,

By Solamnia ruined and risen, rising again

When the heart ascends into duty.

As it dances, the sword is forever an heirloom.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next in a simple light a brother you darkness,

Letting the sword hand try all subtleties,

Even the intricate webs of the heart. His thoughts

Are pools disrupted in changing wind—

He cannot see their bottom.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The next the leader, half-elven, betrayed

As the twining blood pulls asunder the land,

The forests, the worlds of elves and men.

Called into bravery, but fearing for love,

And fearing that, called into both, he does nothing.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

The last from the darkness, breathing the night

Where the abstract starts hide a nest of words,

Where the body endures the wound of numbers,

Surrendered to knowledge until, unable to bless,

His blessing falls on the low, the benighted.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

Joined by others they were in the telling:

A graceless girl, graced beyond graces;

A princess of seeds and saplings, called to the forest;

An ancient weaver of accidents;

Nor can we say who the story will gather.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.

From the north came danger, as we knew it would:

In encampments of winter, the dragon's sleep

Has settled the land, but out of the forest,

Out of the plains they come, from the mothering earth

Defining the sky before them.

Nine they were, under the three moons,

Under the autumn twilight:

As the world declined, they arose

Into the heart of the story.