Tymora's luck

BEHIND THE SCENES

The little figures babbled with excitement as the dark servant entered the tent carrying a wooden box inscribed with ancient text.

A tall figure stepped forward and loomed over the servant. "Open the box," the figure ordered in a deep voice.

The servant flipped up the lid of the box. Within, embedded in white velvet, was a small crystal sphere of the deepest blue.

"Take up the sphere," the figure commanded, "and hold it between the rose and the coin."

The servant drew out the sphere with a trembling hand and held it over the center of the altar of stone. On one side of the sphere, suspended magically in midair, was a white rose, still sparkling with crystals of ice from the Desertsmouth Mountains of Toril. On the other side, also held in the air by magic, was an old platinum coin stamped with the profile of an elven woman on one side and the sigil of the ancient and long since ruined kingdom of Myth Drannor on the other. The servant released the blue crystal sphere, and it hovered between the rose and the coin.

"Now it is time to begin the spell," the looming figure said, pulling the servant away from the altar. And time, the figure thought privately, to drink of Tymora's power.