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The Dragonlance Chronicles · The Companions · The War of the Lance

The Watchful Pilgrim

Archive Guest · 6 pages

Comic

Solace dusk. The last home before war.

The Companions gathered at a round table near the fire in the Inn of the Last Home. Outside, red autumn leaves drift past the window; inside, pine rafters and warm firelight set the mood. In the shadowed background, the Dragonarmy Scout sits alone, hood up, eyes sharp on the group.
We’re being watched.Tanis Half-Elven
Where?Sturm Brightblade
Establish the Inn, gathering, and the sense of being watched.1 / 6
Tanis leans in, whispering, eyes flicking toward the Scout. Tasslehoff grins, half out of his seat.
Tasslehoff, the back stairs. Quietly.Tanis Half-Elven
Quietly is my specialty!Tasslehoff Burrfoot
Sturm sits at the edge, hand to sword, determined but wary. Flint grumbles, rising.
No blood. Not unless we must.Sturm Brightblade
I left my daggers in my other pouch!Tasslehoff Burrfoot
Tanis warns the group; Tasslehoff is characteristically irreverent.2 / 6
Tasslehoff slips through tables toward the back stairs, Flint follows looking grumpy.
This way, Flint!Tasslehoff Burrfoot
Try not to knock over the cider!Tasslehoff Burrfoot
Tanis moves toward the rear alcove, passing close by the Scout, who now stands.
Just passing through.Tanis Half-Elven
You travel heavy for pilgrims.Dragonarmy Scout
Sturm stands by the bar, drawing the Scout's attention, hand resting on hilt.
The night is cold. Stay awhile.Sturm Brightblade
I prefer the open road.Dragonarmy Scout
The escape begins: the group splits, the Scout grows suspicious.3 / 6
Outside, Tanis, Flint, and Tasslehoff pause at the bottom of the back stairs under pine boughs.
My knees weren't made for this.Flint Fireforge
We’re almost clear.Tanis Half-Elven
Inside, the Scout moves for the back, but Sturm steps into his path, blocking him.
Stay by the fire, friend.Sturm Brightblade
Step aside, knight.Dragonarmy Scout
Complication: The Scout moves for the back; Sturm blocks his path.4 / 6
The Scout and Sturm lock eyes in the inn’s doorway, tension peaked; outside in the shadows, Tanis, Flint, and Tasslehoff slip away into the pine-dark night.
We’ll wait for you outside, Sturm!Tasslehoff Burrfoot
Go on. I have this.Sturm Brightblade
Climax: The moment of decision—the Scout hesitates, the Companions escape.5 / 6
The Companions regroup outside in the moonlit pines; Tanis looks back, troubled.
We're safe—for tonight.Tanis Half-Elven
And I found a new spoon!Tasslehoff Burrfoot
Back inside the inn, the Scout sits alone in the fire’s glow, frustrated, plotting.
Next time, you won't slip away so easily.Dragonarmy Scout
Aftermath: Safe for now, but the war is coming.6 / 6
Chapter prose
Tanis Half-Elven felt the weight of a thousand autumns as he lingered by the battered hearth of the Inn of the Last Home. Firelight flickered across the faces of his Companions—Sturm’s features grave and lit by honor, Flint’s beard twitching with the effort of forcing down Kender jokes, Tasslehoff’s bright eyes everywhere at once. But it was the shiver at his nape that Tanis trusted most. Someone was watching. Another pilgrim, the innkeep had said, a man in nondescript cloaks and travel-stained boots. His face was plain, forgettable—but Tanis did not forget the way his hands drifted under the table, or the flicker of a badge hidden by a cuff. Dragonarmy. The war was still rumor here in Solace, and Tanis intended to keep it so, for one more night. He leaned in, voice low, eyes on the mug in his hands. “We’re being watched. Tasslehoff, the back stairs—” Tasslehoff’s grin split the dusk. “I know a dozen exits! Or I can borrow his boots.” “Not tonight,” Tanis said, and Sturm’s hand fell to sword-hilt, the knight’s mustache bristling. “No blood. Not unless we must.” Flint grunted, pushing himself up with a wince. “My knees don’t care for climbing trellises at my age.” “Think of it as exercise,” Tanis murmured. Then, softly, for Sturm alone, “Cover us. If he follows, lead him around. No blades unless there’s no choice.” Sturm nodded, jaw set. “You have my word.” Tanis rose, collecting his battered pack. He could feel the scout’s eyes on his back, measuring. He kept his shoulders easy, casual. Raistlin was not with them yet—a blessing and a curse, Tanis thought. The mage would have found a spectacular way to distract their watcher, but at a cost. Tonight, he would settle for what subtlety the gods granted him. Tasslehoff darted ahead, weaving between tables, Flint following with a muttered oath. Tanis moved to the rear alcove, heart pounding as the firelight waned. Sturm lingered at the bar, drawing the scout’s attention with his armored bulk. Outside, mountain wind cut through the shadows. Pine needles drifted on the breath of autumn. Tanis turned to help Flint down the back stairs, the old dwarf grumbling all the way. Then—a scrape behind. The scout, moving fast now that the prey was slipping. Sturm blocked the door, one hand rising in mock greeting. “Pilgrim,” Sturm intoned, blue eyes steely. “The night is cold. Perhaps you should stay by the fire.” The dragonarmy man hesitated. Tanis saw the calculation in his eyes—a blade, or a retreat? For a moment, it hung in balance. Then Tasslehoff’s voice, bright as bells: “We’ll wait for you outside, Sturm! Try not to get thrown out again!” The tension broke. The scout faded back into the inn, scowling. Sturm followed, slow and watchful, but the fight was over before it began. Tanis let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Flint elbowed him, and Tasslehoff already had three pinecones and a borrowed spoon in his pouch. The night was cool, and the world was not yet at war—at least, not here, not tonight. But Tanis knew: the last home was only the first step. The road ahead would not be so easily won.
Original idea

The Companions path: The Inn of the Last Home is watched by a dragonarmy scout posing as a pilgrim. Tanis has to get Flint, Sturm, and Tasslehoff out a back door without starting the War of the Lance a night early.

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