Durganza’s whole world was being turned upside down as his mother pushed him out of her lair. The adult dragon towered over her young. She easily could kill him if he didn’t heed her instructions.
An old man was sitting in a beautiful garden on a bright summer morning. His thoughts were his own until he heard the familiar sound of his approaching grandson.
Tasran, Imperial Prince, Grand Duke of Elmsfjord, Prince of Trevalion, remained standing in the receiving chambers of the Crown Council. Normally he would be in the chamber, but today he was being presented as the Emperor’s choice for an heir.
They say there are three types of writers in the world, those with problems with beginnings, those with problems with endings, and those with problems with the middle. For Dungeon Masters, I don’t think this usually applies.