Dissolution (Forgotten Realms: R.A. Salvatore's War of the Spider Queen, Book 1)
Richard Lee Byers
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The War of the Spider Queen begins here.
While their whole world is changing around them, four dark elves struggle against different enemies. Yet their paths will lead them all to the most terrifying discovery in the long history of the drow and set them on a quest to save not only Menzoberranzan but the entire dark elf race from Dissolution...
the big male’s side. Sometimes the blade plunged deep, and sometimes it caught on a rib. Blundyth flailed and bucked for a while, couldn’t break free, then tried to aim the arbalest back over his shoulder. Pharaun ducked away from it. Finally the merchant fell sideways, pinning his attacker’s knife and hand beneath him. Pharaun dragged his hand free, but didn’t bother with the dirk. He was about to procure a set of vastly superior weapons. He wiped his bloody fingers on Blundyth’s clothing, then
scent. “This is always grand, isn’t it?” “I suppose,” answered Ryld. For his excursion away from Tier Breche, Ryld had tossed a piwafwi around his burly shoulders. The cloak covered his dwarf-made armor and short sword, and its cowl obscured his features, but no garment could have hidden the enormous weapon sheathed across his back. Ryld called the greatsword Splitter, and while Pharaun deplored the name as ugly and prosaic, he had to admit that it was apt. In his friend’s capable hands, the
experienced that ridiculous condition—but perhaps it was a kind of shame, a disgust at the sheer waste and childishness manifest in Menzoberranzan’s abuse of its undercreatures and a desire to rectify the situation if he could. The feeling was irrational, of course. The goblins and their kin existed only to serve the pleasure of the drow, and if you ruined one, you just caught or bought another. The weapons master gave his head a shake, clearing it, then turned to Pharaun. Even through his orc
such birds rarely thrived in the Underdark. A portrait painter rendered his subject, the enchantments in the brush enabling him to fill the canvas with astonishing speed. An armorer drove a rapier through a bound, gagged kobold to demonstrate the sharpness of the point. Cowl up, mantle drawn close around him, and Splitter hidden by the charm of concealment Pharaun had cast on it, Ryld loitered across the way in a tent with the sides folded up. There, games of all sorts were on display. The
the aid of my similarly disgruntled friend Master Argith, I destroyed a patrol in the Bazaar earlier today. You may have heard something about it.” Bruherd stared. The kobold and goblins within earshot did the same. “It’s true,” said Ryld. “That was you?” Bruherd said. “And you’re bragging about it? Are you insane? They’ll hunt you down!” Pharaun said, “They were trying anyway.” The entire cellar was falling quiet. “I’ve heard rumors of an agency that will spirit a drow boy away if he’s well