Oral Histories of Faerûn: The Spellplague
[This book is comprised of several chapters, one for each cited source. It claims to contain firsthand transcriptions of the oral histories of several storytellers throughout the realm.] Chapter 25: Cornelius and Tomelius Worthywar Halflings encountered on the Golden Road south of Innarlith I met the brothers - or rather, they found me - in the lower pass through the Fireshear Mountains. They had encountered a trail of golden discs along the path, and had resolved to gather and return them to 'whatever fool had more coin than common sense'. It was to our mutual embarrassment, then, that I removed my cloak to reveal my patchwork yellow hide. It was molting season, I explained, and a traveller on the road had not the luxury to shed their scales in private, as would be proper. I suspect they knew too little of dragonborn to be appropriately disgusted, and instead invited me to sup with them. Over a roadside fire, I learned of the purpose behind their journey. ----- Cornelius: Luiren, my lad! Our ancestral home. It was lost during the Spellplague. Tomelius: Weren't nothing lost, Conn. It's not Nan's lucky gnashers, is it? It sank. C: Wasn't I there when the blue fire took it? Sure what do you remember - you were knee-high to a gnome. T: I remember you crying - maybe it was you that sank the place. Going back to finish the job? C: Watch that lip lest I fatten it. Only a fool speaks ill of his homeland. Their brows were bristling dangerously, and so I diverted hostilities by speaking of my own people's ancestral home; the blighted world of Abeir, and the thousand-year tyranny of dragons we lived under - until the blue fire of the Spellplague brought us to this world. C: ... right. Ah...