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358 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 1985
Some PCs: "We have Dragonlances! Hope for all the forces of good against the darkness that threatens us all! We can teach you how to use them! Who wants to learn?"
Everyone: "Nah, we're good."
Later . . .
Some PCs: "We brought Dragonlances to this fortress, the last desperate defense against the invading dragon army! Who will learn how to use them?"
Desperate defenders: "Meh."
Still later . . .
Desperate defender prime: "A Dragonlance would be a great boon in my upcoming battle to decide the fate of all I am tasked to protect. Alas, I don't know how to use it."
Even later . . .
Multiple defenders finally use the Dragonlances. How? They use them to... stab a dragon. The same as using any lance.
Shadows crept across the dusty tables of the Pig and Whistle tavern. The sea breeze off the Bay of Balifor made a shrill whistling sound as it blew through the ill-fitting front windows—that distinctive whistle giving the inn the last part of its name. Any guesses as to how the tavern got the first part ended on sight of the innkeeper. A jovial, kind-hearted man, William Sweetwater had been cursed at birth (so town legend went) when a wandering pig overturned the baby's cradle, so frightening young William that the mark of the pig was forever imprinted on his face.
This unfortunate resemblance had certainly not impaired William's temper, however. A sailor by trade until he had retired to fulfill a life-long ambition of keeping an inn, there was not a more respected or well-liked man in Port Balifor than William Sweetwater. No one laughed more heartily at pig jokes than did William. He could even grunt quite realistically and often did pig imitations for the amusement of his customers. (But no one ever—after the untimely death of Peg-Leg Al—called William by the name "Piggy".)