Realms of Glomora: The Guardian of the Frosted Mountains
The dwarf cursed at his pony as it stumbled over a stone. Once he was able to right the beast, he looked sheepishly over his shoulder at Veran. “Like I told you, Master Bloodstalker, these paths are treacherous. Even after half a century, I still have trouble navigating through the Frosted Mountains.” Veran gave the barest hint of a smile and turned to look at the behemoths that towered over them. They stretched toward the sky, huge snow-covered mountains that made Veran feel as if he were as insignificant as an ant at the feet of gods. Looking at them he felt himself grow a mite dizzy and lowered his eyes. “How much father, Narzeer?” The dwarf continued his pony on its trek, Veran following behind on his own mount. “Not too much farther. That being the case, I’d venture another word of warning to ye…” “No,” Veran said. “I appreciate the concern, let me assure you, but I did not make the choice to come to these mountains lightly. I have a mission that I have to complete.” Nar
