Serpent Mage - art by Ciruelo Cabral (1992)

That moment you wake up and see that Margaret Weis shared your meme 😆

Original post: https://www.tumblr.com/silverglass83/690350411709890560/take-care-of-your-mental-health-the-dragonlance?source=share

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378. Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman - Dragons of Winter Night (1985)

The second volume in the Dragonlance chronicles trilogy, and the second book set in the Dragonlance universe as a whole, this one comes out just a few months after late-1984's Dragons of Autumn Twilight. These are coming out so fast (the third volume also comes out this year) that there is no pretence of these following the adventure modules anymore.

If the first volume ended just as the corresponding AD&D game modules were coming out, this volume jumps to the future after the last published modules and has our characters start out the novel in Winter, on a ship carrying a dragon orb after returning the Hammer of Kharas to Thorbardin. These events actually happened between the novels and if you want a detailed account of them you have to either read the already released adventure modules or wait a bunch of years for a short story collection that will fill in the gaps.

As a middle book in a trilogy it suffers from a lot of the problems of those books, it doesn't have the appeal of the original with its worldbuilding and introduction of characters, and it also feels like taking the characters from point A to point B so that we can have a final showdown in the third volume. Fortunately it also has some good things that can happen in good middle volumes (a bit like in Empire Strikes Back), it's smart enough to end the book with a strong emotional punch through the loss of one of our heroes, as well as having all other characters in such a downtrodden position that you need to read the third book to follow that glimmer of hope.

My apologies to all my books because I am a mood reader and the mood right now is high fantasy, D&D, and classics.

I just started the first Dragonlance novel- Dragons of Autumn Twilight- and seeing if I can stick with it.

“Then ... does this mean that you’re ... all right, now? I mean, in the present? In our time?” He gestured. “Your skin isn’t gold anymore, you’ve lost the hourglass eyes. You look ... like you did when you were young, and we rode to the Tower, seven years ago. Will you be like that when we go back?” “No, my brother,” Raistlin said, speaking with the patience one uses explaining things to a child. “Surely Par-Salian explained this? Well, perhaps not. Time is a river. I have not changed the course of its flow. I have simply climbed out and jumped in at a point farther upstream. It carries me along its course. I—”

Title: Dragons of Spring Dawning | Author: Margaret Weis / Tracy Hickman | Publisher: Wizards of the Coast (2003)

Goddess of magic and the red moon, Lunitari.

I always wanted to redraw an older sketch/artwork of mine to see my progress and I also wanted to draw a more detailed version of my boy Sang-drax. So why not both?

The first one is from today, the second one from 2003.

And still loving both drawings ❤️🐉🐍

I struggled a lot with my art style in the past bc it was never (and never will be) an art style for the masses. Not beautiful or stereotypical enough but I've made my peace with it. Bc I spent years to draw the way I'm drawing now and I can be proud of it! Seeing the development between these 2 pics also shows me that it's worth it to work for the things you love ❤️

Today's Thrift Book find! "ROBOT BLUES" I like Margaret Weis... hope this is good

Dragons of Winter Night

349. Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman - Dragons of Autumn Twilight (1984)

This marks a real sea change in D&D in general and in TSR's business model in particular. This was the first novel based on D&D material to come out since Andre Norton's Quag Keep back in 1978, but while Norton's book was an independent story based on the game, this first volume in what would become the Dragonlance Chronicles is part of a concerted business and storytelling strategy  by TSR.

Moving from the more loosely structured modules to the revolution led by the Hickmans (Tracy and Laura), to more story centred stories, starting with Ravenloft and then Dragonlance, this was integrated with a new novel publishing side of the company. Dragonlance would be so successful that now, nearly 40 years later there are still novels by Weis and Hickman set in this universe coming out yearly. 

Personally, this was also an important novel for me. Before I knew that there was a game called D&D, before I saw the cartoons... even before I heard of Lord of the Rings, I got my hands on cheap paperbacks of this novel. This was my entry into the world of fantasy and later science fiction. Over the years I've read and reread this novel time and time again, and it always takes me back to being 7 or 8 years old with its compelling characters, non-stop action and exciting story, which I now understand mimics the experience of a party around a game table. It is also a really easy read, which explains why it made such an impression at such an early age. Still a classic, still immense fun.

I have 100-pages left and today’s minor goal is to work on it- getting ever closer to finishing this 444-page book. If you know me you know that I have trouble reading things over 300-pages so this has been a happy challenge for me.

The battle lasted long. The two guardians of the Tower, who watched the sight they had conjured up from the memories of the black-robed mage lying within their grasp, were lost in confusion. They had, up to this point, seen everything through Raistlin's vision. But so close now were the two magic-users that the Tower's guardians saw the battle through the eyes of both opponents. Lightning crackled from fingertips, black-robed bodies twisted in pain, screams of agony and fury echoed amidst the crash of rock and timber. Magical walls of fire thawed walls of ice, hot winds blew with the force of hurricanes. Storms of flame swept the hallways, apparitions sprang from the Abyss at the behest of their masters, elementals shook the very foundations of the castle. The great dark fortress of Fistandantilus began to crack, stones tumbling from the battlements. And then, with a fearful shriek of rage and pain, one of the black-robed mages collapsed, blood flowing from his mouth. Which was which? Who had fallen? The guardians sought frantically to tell, but it was impossible. The other mage, nearly spent, rested a moment, then managed to drag himself across the floor. His trembling hand reached up to the top of the stone slab, groped about, then found and grasped the bloodstone pendant. With his last strength, the black-robed mage gripped the pendant and crawled back to kneel beside the still-living body of his victim. The mage on the floor could not speak, but his eyes, as they gazed into the eyes of his murderer, cast a curse of such hideous aspect that the two guardians of the Tower felt even the chill of their tormented existence grow warm by comparison. The black-robed mage holding the bloodstone hesitated. He was so close to his victim's mind that he could read the unspoken message of those eyes, and his soul shrank from what it saw. But then his lips tightened. Shaking his hooded head and giving a grim smile of triumph, he carefully and deliberately pressed the pendant down on the black-robed chest of his victim. The body on the floor writhed in tormented agony, a shrill scream bubbled from his blood-frothed lips. Then, suddenly, the screams ceased. The mage's skin wrinkled and cracked like dry parchment, his eyes stared sightlessly into the darkness. He slowly withered away. With a shuddering sigh, the other mage collapsed on top of the body of his victim, he himself weak, wounded, near death. But clutched in his hand was the bloodstone and flowing through his veins was new blood, giving him life that would- in time-fully restore him to health. In his mind was knowledge, memories of hundreds of years of power, spells, visions of wonders and terrors that spanned generations. But there, too, were memories of a twin brother, memories of a shattered body, of a prolonged, painful existence. As two lives mingled within him, as hundreds of strange, conflicting memories surged through him, the mage reeled at the impact. Crouching beside the corpse of his rival, the black robed mage who had been the victor stared at the bloodstone in his hand. Then he whispered in horror. "Who am I?"