Divine Hammer

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The folk of Krynn thought it was a moonless night. Silver Solinari, a slender crescent at this time of the month, set soon after sunset, and Lunitari, the red moon, would not rise until dawn. In their absence, the sky-clear this cool autumn eve, unmarred by clouds-seemed empty of all but stars.

It was not.

Most folk could not see the third moon. Unlike its bright sisters, Nuitari was black as a dragon’s heart, blending with the night. Only a few-astronomers and madmen, mostly-marked it as a hole in the sky, tracing it by the stars it blocked as it passed. Others, however, could see every crater and scar, even-though it reflected none of the sun’s light-its phase, and thus gauge its power.

A thousand years ago, dragons, monsters, and dark-hearted men had all but ruled the world, and Nuitari had shimmered with their power. That was the past, though. The dragons were gone, banished from the world, and the followers of the gods of light had hunted down those who served the shadows, beast and man alike. In all the world’s realms-crumbling Ergoth, proud Solamnia, wild Kharolis, the kingdoms of elves, dwarves, and kender-the disciples of evil were few, scattered, forced to hide if they wanted to survive.

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