#riverwind

"Finished" version of how the dragonlance fellas look in my head! i know its not technically accurate but for my own sanity this is how they look. and for my own sanity sturm does not look like a biker dude #bald

Raistlin was laughing.

Tanis had never heard the mage laugh before, even when Raistlin was a child, and he hoped he would never hear it again. It was weird, shrill, mocking laughter. Caramon stared at his brother in amazement, Goldmoon in horror. Finally the sound of Raistlin’s laughter died until the mage was laughing silently, his golden eyes reflecting the glow of the draconian camp going up in flames.

Tanis shuddered and turned around to see that in fact the dragon’s head was carried by Sturm and Riverwind. Flint raced along in front, a draconian helm on his head. Tanis ran forward to meet them.

“What in the name of–”

“The kender’s stuck in here!” Sturm said. He and Riverwind dropped the head to the ground, both of them breathing heavily. “We’ve got to get him out.” Sturm eyed the laughing Raistlin warily. “What’s the matter of him? still poisoned?”

“No, he’s better,” Tanis said, examining the dragon’s head.

–Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

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...

Caramon, the gods have tricked the world

In absences, in gifts, and all of us

Are housed within their cruelties. The wit

That was our heritage, they lodged in me,

Enough to see all differences: the light

In Tika's eye when she looks elsewhere,

The tremble in Laurana's voice when she

Speaks to Tanis, and the graceful sweep

Of Goldmoon's hair at Riverwind's approach.

They look at me, and even with your mind

I could discern the difference. Here I sit,

A body frail as bird bones.

In return

The gods teach us compassion, teach us mercy,

That compensation. Sometimes they succeed,

For I have felt the hot spit of injustice

Turn through those too weak to fight their brothers

For sustenance or love, and in that feeling

The pain lulled and diminished to a glow,

I pitied as you pitied, and in that

Rose above the weakest of the litter.

You, my brother, in your thoughtless grace,

That special world in which the sword arm spins

The wild arc of ambition and the eye

Gives flawless guidance to the flawless hand,

You cannot follow me, cannot observe

The landscape of cracked mirrors in the soul,

The aching hollowness in sleight of hand.

And yet you love me, simple as the rush

And balance of our blindly mingled blood,

Or as a hot sword arching through the snow:

It is the mutual need that puzzles you,

The deep complexity lodged in the veins.

Wild in the dance of battle, when you stand,

A shield before your brother, it is then

Your nourishment arises from the heart

Of all my weaknesses.

When I am gone,

Where will you find the fullness of your blood?

Backed in the heart's loud tunnels?

I have heard

The Queen's soft lullaby, Her serenade

And call to battle mingling in the night;

This music calls me to my quiet throne

Deep in Her senseless kingdom.

Dragonlords

Thought to bring the darkness into light,

Corrupt it with the mornings and the moons—

In balance is all purity destroyed,

But in voluptuous darkness lies the truth,

The final, graceful dance.

But not for you:

You cannot follow me into the night,

Into the maze of sweetness. For you stand

Cradled by the sun, in solid lands,

Expecting nothing, having lost your eat

Before the road became unspeakable.

It is beyond explaining, and the words

Will make you stumble. Tanis is your friend,

My little orphan, and he will explain

Those things he glimpses in the shadow's path,

For he knew Kitiara and the shine

Of the dark moon upon her darkest hair,

And yet he cannot threaten, for the night

Breathes in a moist wind upon my waiting face.