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Unformatted text preview: CRUCIBLE: THE TRIAL OF CYRIC THE MAD by Trot Denning Avatar 5 Copyright 1989 TSR, Inc. AH Rights Reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein to prohibited without the expreM written permission of TSR, Inc. Random House and all affiliate companies have worldwide distribution rights in the book trade for English language products of TSR, Inc. Distributed to the book and hobby trade in the United Kingdom by TSR Ltd. Distributed to the toy and hobby trade by regional distributor. FORGOTTEN REALMS is a registered trademark owned by TSR, Inc. The TSR logo is a trademark owned by TSR, Inc First Printing: April, 1989 Printed in the United States of America. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 88-51723987 ISBN: 048038-730-0 All characters in the book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead are purely coincidental. TSR, Inc. P.O. Box 758 Lake Geneva, Wl 53147 U.S.A. TSR Ltd. 120 Church End, Cherry Hinlon Cambridge CB1 3LB United Kingdom It depends on me, of course. Everything does. Who shall live. Who shall die. What is, what shall be. Imagine I am watching from above, hovering in the sky as mortals are wont to think we gods do. The vast sea lies below, forever slapping at the rocky shore of the Sword Coast, where Candlekeep's towers of profane ignorance sit upon the pedestal of a black basalt tor. With a breath, I could blast that bastion of falsity down, powder the mortar between its stones and send its high walls crashing into the sea, scatter its twisted tomes to the bubbling mires and the deep, stinking oceans in the far corners of the world. Now imagine I am standing. The sea hangs upright before me, a sparkling green tapestry stretched across the endless expanse of the heavens, its white-capped waves spilling down again and again to taunt the shore below. The world has turned on end, and Candlekeep's towers hang upon that basalt tor like warts upon the tip of a black, cragged nose. With a thought, I could release the fullness of the sea to swallow that citadel of corruption, to scour that library of lies from the face of the world, to wash its books of deceit into oblivion and rinse from Toril even the memory of their false pages. It all depends on me, you see. Nothing is certain until I have beheld it and set it in place, until I have placed myself above it or below, before it or after. Let them keep their temple to Oghma the Unknowing, their shrines to Deneir the Prattler and Gond of the Forgestinking Breath, and even to Milil, Lord of Screeching Racket! Let them scorn me if they dare. I am the One, the All, the Face Behind the Mask. I am the Everything....
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This note was uploaded on 12/30/2010 for the course SOC 101 taught by Professor Zhung during the Spring '10 term at Punjab Engineering College.
- Spring '10