By Christopher Rowe
A hero rises from the ranks of slaves!
The genasi keep watch over just about all of Calimshan for his or her djinn overlords—all yet a couple of outposts just like the floating Island of the loose, the place escaped slaves from Calimport’s coliseum run their very own brutal video games. There, Cephas, a genasi without thoughts of his earlier has spent his complete existence battling yet at some point a circus of misfits, lead via the crowlike Corvus Nightfeather seem and unfastened Cephas—and for the 1st time Cephas can harness his inborn powers and keep an eye on the stones and grime underneath his feet.
The latest Forgotten Realms® writer brings his abilities to a space that has replaced dramatically with the clean take of Dungeons & Dragons® 4th version. The strong elemental race of the genasi and the xenophobic and ruthless cultures of Calimshan are published in the course of the upward thrust of the Forgotten Realms' most recent hero.
From the Paperback edition.
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Extra resources for Sandstorm: A Forgotten Realms Novel
The shorter-haired woman suddenly leaped to her feet, then leaped again in an arc that suggested a much greater distance than what she could truly achieve in the cramped space. Cephas felt the cell rock on its suspending chain, and he hoped no one outside would be curious about what caused the motion. That first leap was familiar to Cephas. It was a diminished version of the flying attack he had made against the omlarcat the day before. Had these women been in the audience? Then the other halfling—clearly not meant to be a cat but still some gigantic man spinning a polearm or greathammer—struck her sister a solid blow in the chest, knocking the woman to the floor.
He asked. Corvus did not answer, but with one talon began sketching a surprisingly accurate rendition of Jazeerijah in the sand. ” Drawing in the canyon, he spotted redoubts that housed the chains of the Canvas Arena, and the other four leaned in. “Some of us will approach by stealth, tonight, and some of us in disguise, tomorrow,” Corvus continued. ” Azad the Free claimed that the shaft of the double flail, currently resting on a stand in his quarters, was carved from the heartwood of a tree an ancient guild of smiths had tended for six hundred years, then cut down and carved until nothing remained but a rod as thick as Cephas’s wrist and as long as a running man’s stride.
It’s from an Alzhedo dialect, I gather,” said Mattias, “though they speak the common tongue to their slaves and the scum that visit them. ” “Jazeerijah. ‘Island of the Free,’ ” Corvus said. “It’s from one of the Founding Stories of Calimshan. ” “Well, by their dress and ways, the folk in charge out on that floating rock are definitely Calishites. And it’s odd you mention those stories, because—” A shout out in the canyon echoed through the air. Most of the population of the ramshackle village of huts and tents had clustered on the rim of the floating island of rock, human bandits mixing freely with tribal goblins.