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My post:

She turned the stone over and over in her hands feeling its cold warmth bathe her fingers. Her mind drifted off to the sleepy dream state, where she could mull over the events of the past few days without interference from the world. The down side was the interference from her mind. Thoughts drifted about her head like a raging ocean, each one odder than the next. Later rather than sooner, she harnessed her sleepy state into a meditative one. A blue stone, calling her to this very city. What sort of world did it speak of when it mentioned a world in peril? Surely not this one. But, the trends of society in the current day... Everyone so fearful of the next sunrise, always hording their crops and always questioning travelers of their intents. It seemed more and more likely that this world was on the brink of destruction by something that didn't approve of such frightened ways. But, still. It did not make sense as to why the stone called her to this run over town left over from the last century. All that resided here were vampyres and....

A stench woke her from her situation. It was faintly alien to her nostrils, but its acrid taste brought back feverant memories of near five years previous. She stood sharply and made way for the door, but her eyes were bombarded with a flash of morning sunlight. She yelped and retreated back to her dark hut. The sudden amounts of monster alerted her. They must be after something. It worried her greatly. But, the sunlight... She could not ignore her weakness. Going out in the sunlight, even if she were to cover her face quite artistically, would blind her from any battle. She did not possess much magical ablitites beyond those attributed to her race, but what help those could do. Hopeless in any other ideas, she decided to listen for the sounds of a supposed battle.

((And the stone thing. Your character is going to need to find one. It has to realte to the colors of the Gods. It doesn't matter which, just as long as its not blue. ^^))

Ghanim's Post:

Beezlebum woke with a yawn and stretch, acompanied by a strand of curses at a nearby fly who had chosen that exact time to explore Beezlebum's mouth. After swatting at the fly, failing to hit it, loosing his balance, and landing with a thud, Beezlebum decided to pack up his equipment and try to find his way home. Why was it that everytime he went looking for potion components he ended up lost?
"No matter," he decided, and after gathering up his bedroll and backpack headed away from the clearing where he had, earlier the last evening, buried a dinner guest. "I'll not inform my next dinner guest," he thought, "of that younge soup-lover's accident; might hurt my reputation."
After walking about aimlessly for the better part of the morning Beezlebum meandered his way out of the woods and found himself on the fringes of a town that, by the looks of it, hadn't been cleaned in ages. Curious as to the where-abouts of the janitors, and the sanity of the upperclass for allowing the janitors to wander off, Beezlebum decided to investigate. After entering, Beezlebum's first reaction was one of shock, terror, and unabassed horror; so he pinched his nose to block out the stench and kept walking in. The streets were lined with skeletons, blood stains, scorch marks, topled walls and all sorts of debris. It was indeed a ghost town, making Beezlebum all the more curious. He began sticking his head through broken windows, peeping around doors with broken hinges, and questioning every living thing he came across (that list including three spiders and a cute little lizard), but all to no avail.
A roar was issued from around a cornor, and Beezlebum, thinking this new creature might be more talkative than your average clump-of-dust, sprinted ahead to introduce himself. "Darn," he thought as he rounded the cornor, "I should have brought a gnomish pie."
After rounding the cornor Beezlebum quickly forgot all about any sort of pie, and was taken aback at the sight of the creature. Before him were three of the biggest kittens Beezlebum had ever seen, all were running out of town and towards and unarmed man nearer the woods Beezlebum had just exited only a few hours prior.
Fighting his urge to cry, "Kitty!" and pet the beasts, Beezlebum decided he should probably help the young man he saw, who obviously didn't like cats because of the fighting stance he had assumed. Beezlebum cried out, "Don't worry mister! I'll help you with the cats before you sneeze to death."
Hearing the unexpected noise, all three cats turned their heads to regard the little gnome standing just inside of the ruined ghost town. The two beasts farthest away began advancing on the unarmed man again, and one turned to charge at the gnome.
Seeing that one of the overly large kittens wanted to play, Beezlebum smiled, but when he noticed the horns protruding from the brow just over the red eyes of the cat, and the dark red flames burning on the cats back, Beezlebum's smile faded fast. He quickly reached into his belt and pulled out a blue bottle that glowed ever-so-slightly. With a cry of, "I'll put the fire out, kitty! Then we can play." Beezlebum flung the small bottle at the charging beast. The cat paid little head to the small projectile untill it shattered just above it's shoulders in the small of it's back and a mound of snow and icicles began forming.
The ice quickly hardened and the cat collapsed, it's shoulders frozen solid and immovable. Beezlebum let out a squeak, mumbled an appology, then searched for a concotion that would thaw the ice fast; that cat seemed impatient with it's roars, twitches, and attempts to bite off Beezlebum's legs. Finding a potion of a bright red Bezzlebum tossed it onto the ice encasing the creatures shoulders. The bottle crashed open and it's contents spilled out, cascading down the blue-white ice. Bezzlebum let out a sad sigh, that had been his rosentine juice. "I really must lable which potions are edibles and which are explosives." he thought.
He rummaged through the pockets of his belt and cam up with another red bottle and after assuring himself thrice that it was indeed not rosentine juice (though he wasn't entirely sure what it was other than a non-edible) Bezzlebum tossed the bottle towards the ice.
The cat, meanwhile, had worked the ice loose and efectively broken itself free. It leaped to it's feet and let out a roar just in time to catch Beezlebums latest toss right in it's mouth. There was a muffled 'boom' that, though quiter than normal, still shook the building around with the explosions shock-wave sending a storm of dust and mold to the empty streets. The cat's headless body fell with a sickening thud, the flames on it's back extinguished.
Seeing his almost-playmate fall headless, Bezzlebum let out a resigned "Ooo..." and decided he wouldn't play with any cats for a while. He did, however, want to pay his respects to the slain beast.
As he approached the headless body, taking care not to slip in the puddles that was once it's head, Beezlebum noticed that the body wafted out a pungent dead-and-has-been-decaying-for-quite-some-time-now smell, which struck him as odd. Hadn't the creature just died? None-the-less, Beezlebum patted the shoulder fur of the best, appologised, and was going to turn and see about the unarmed man when he noticed a red-ruby gem inbedded in the back of the cat.
"That's odd," he thought, "animals don't usually wear jewelry." Then leaning in closer to inspect the gem he thought, "And sense this is an animal, and a dead one, it would have doubly less use for a gem of this value." and as he began removing the gem from the backbone of the cat his mind continued, "although the phrase 'doubly less' makes little sense even in this cercumstance where the cat has two reasons to not do something; doubly will hardly ever mean less, unless that is, it is a negative doubly, making it twice the amount and a negative and thusly three times less, which brings us to a point of intangency, because that is triply less, not doubly and..." pausing to breathe he lost his train of thought.
With a small crack (the sound of fracturing vertebrae), the ruby fell out and into the hands of the small gnome. Immediatly a telepathic phrase intruded in the gnome's head, "An adventure awaits. A world so unlike yours needs a hero. The Gods call upon you, call you to Stics... Stics, be wary of what is there..."
Beezlebum's innitial response was to squeak, drop the gem, and duck behind the carcus he had recently taken the gem from. After his suprise wore off, however, he thought it might be wiser to study the gem, and see how it had done what it had done. He took out his mortar and pestel and placed the ruby (which made no thoughts on contact this time) in the bowl and began beating it with his pestel. The ruby didn't so much as scratch and Beezlebum gave up, placing the gem in a pocket of his belt. He turned his attention towards the woods where the unarmed man was playiing a wrestling game with the cats (and he didn't appear to be sneezing, which was a good sign). It was then that Beezlebum noticed a figure shrink into a doorway, appearing pained by the sun. Thinking this figure might like kittens as much as himself, Beezlebum began walking towards the door, berating himself again for not having a pie.

My post:

Her fear of what may ensue in the outside world double as several booms shook the hut. There would be no rest for the weary tonight, she supposed in slight disappointment. But, still, something had to be done about this allergy to the sun. She did not possess the innate ability of having the sun burn her skin, like her vampyre friends thankfully. Only her vision was impaired in the blinding glare. This would prove to be most unwelcomed should she have to fight the enemies. Inevitable, it seemed, that she would have to venture into the daylight at some point in her life. She had, after all, left her dark underground home for some sort of reason. This was just an interesting payback. She scoured her supplies in search of something of use to sheild her delicate, lavander eyes. Resorting to a piece of thin black cloth, she cursed her infernal curse. Quickly, and anticapating the worst, she collected her mess and headed for the door, cracking it open slightly. She peered outside and was met with a less intense sun and a miniature figure fast approaching the doorway. She slammed the door shut and bolted back to a pitch black corner of the room. Had she truly been that careless as to allow her only defense, the hut, be so easily breached? Her hand reached for her trusted dagger as her feet moved silently to the doorway. In this poistion out of the way of the swinging door, she was ready to attack with the element of surprise. It creature smelled gnomish. Lovely and how odd the smell. What on earth was a gnome doing down in this vampyric area of the island?

Quite obviously, things were about to get interesting...

Her mind had no tme to react to what the gnome may bring. A man, tall in height in comparision to her and quite a bit more bloodied, crashed into her hut of refuge. A yelp of surprise escaped her lips as she realized that she had no time to worry of their alliences. They were quite inder attack by the most hidious creatures of the area. How she wished for that bow... Her feet carried her outside and she was met with the smile of the large monster. Her eyes covered in the cloth, she smiled with a bit of satanic glee. Still, she was a Drow. The monster charged into her, raking its feirce claws and snapping its large jaw. Just before the moment of impact, she fell to the ground and caught the beast in the belly with her dagger. A weak attack, but it felt the stab all too well. It lanuched itself into the roofs of the houses, all too unwisely. For all its leaps, it could not keep up with the tumbling of the roofs. It stumbled to the ground where its friend took up defending it.

She stared at the fiend as it staulked slowly to her. It knew that she possess no ranged weapons. She knew that it had to be in range for effective attack. They held a few second staring contest of wit. Once she saw its concentraion falter from the realization that the gnome with the exploding bottles was still in the area, she leap into an attack. Her relaxs and speed honed beyound comparision, she leapt onto the monsters' back and left a gaping wound there as she continued to the other monster. This one was more prepared and it caught her with its teeth. She let out a scream of pain as she felt the bone crack of her dagger-free hand. Upon its release, she lept to the side of a building along the dusty street and hissed in surprised pain. Lovely, the ways of the world. Once last shot before retreating... The enranged thing shot out at her wounded body. With her relflexs, she reacted. A dagger buried itself in the forehead of the beast, silencing it for eneterity. A grin of resignment on her face, she feld from the remaining beast. It, equally angered, gave chase.

-

((NPC post.))
A figure trudged in impatienence in a gray hut that was held together only by the nice morning weather. He, dressed in the robes characteristic only to the higher class, had a round face with round eyes to match. Angered and worried, he muttered to himself about the incoming of the new people in his town. To defeat these enemies was thier present task and here he was, debating whether or not he wanted them to win. It was just the fate of the country he held dear. Could he honestly trust that fate with these unworthy bastards? Curses escaped his lips. Well, the sages and the king had chosen them... But, he felt that he deserved some say in the picking... Ideas found root in his mind. Why not tamper with the outcome somehow?

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

Ghanim's post:

It was so magical, so intense, and so, well, explosion-ie, that for a few moments the small gnome could do nothing but stare in abject fascination. Magical fires, they had to be magical because no alchemical explosion could be so awe-inspiringly BIG, simply tore apart a building where not to much earlier a cat had entered. After a curious fly told Beezlebum that his mouth was hanging open, the small gnome ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, which is supprisingly fast considering, towards the source of the massive explosion that demolished an entire building. Along the run Beezlebum thought to himself, "Huge! Gargantuan! Giagatimouse! Actually that isn't a word, but it sounds big, and that's the point. I do so wonder how whoever caused that explosion caused that explosion. I haven't seen spells that potent in quite a while, and there are very few mages capable of such a thing. I mean... wow, it was so HUGE! It puts my dinky little things to shame... But I'm sure that the size doesn't matter all that much. A single well aimed boom can be just as effective, right? Golly-bum.. big..."
By the time he had finished thinking his thoughts, Beezlebum had reached the edge of the building where it's entrance once stood. Most of the wall was scattered about the other side of the street, and the door was splintered and still burning. Looking into the inside-but-now-outside of the house, the gnome spotted a man, horribly injured and possibly dieing, lieing on the floor.
Letting out a squeak of horror, Beezlebum ran to the man and said "I have a preasent for you." He then took out his last bottle of rosentine juice and handed it to the man. "It's delicious in soups, and it's good for the body. Drink up, and you won't have to worry about bleeding on your cloths." A cherubic smile spread over the gnomes face, "That was a really big boom," he thought, "but mine, small though they are, rarely leave a person as intact as this. Size doesn't really matter."

Ghanim's post:

The bald and dieing man took the bottle from Beezlebum's hand rather quickly, either he was very trusting of gnomes or very desperate. Either way, the drink would be more than enough to save his life and staunch his bleeding. Beezlebum smiled with the delight of saving a life while quietly morning the loss of the last of his rosentine juice. "No gnomish soup for a while," he thought. "I'll have to be sure to go find more rose petals soon in case I have a powerful hankering for soup. And I guess it'd be nice to have if I get grievously wounded too."
After writing a small note to himself about getting rose petals, Beezlebum noticed that the bald man had gone and sat under a tree. It was nice to see the man moving so soon. The gnome hustled over to the man, who had just put something in his pocket, and politely and excitedly put out his hand saying, "I am Beezlebum Bartlebee le Bim the third, but you can call me Beezle, Bum, Bartle, Bee, Le Bim, or The Third, whichever strikes your fancy. Well, I don't mean 'stirke your fancy' like the name is actually going to strike you, infact my name is a very nice name, or so my mother told me, and it has never struck anyone that I am aware of. Of course, there is always the cahnce it could strike, and in such a case let me appologise in advance for the rudeness of my name. If you'd like you can call me anything that you think sounds nice enough to not 'strike your fancy'." Beezlebum then paused for breathe. "So I hope you have a nice name which won't stike me, cause I don't really like pain, infact I'm a very non-violence gnome, except when it comes to inanimate objects which I like to blow up, and I'm very good at it cause I'm an alchemist you see. I saw the explosion you made earlier, it was quite nice by my standards, and I guess that now that I have seen yours you might like to see mine." and Beezlebum reached into his belt pouch to take out a potion to toss and show his alchemical prowess, but when his hand passed over the ruby he had found earlier he decided to change the subject. "So I saw you earlier when you were playing with the cats on the outskirts of town, and by the way I really like cats too, though I don't want to wrestle with them like you did, me being a gnome and a small one at that, and I accidentally killed a cat and found a nice talking gem in it's back, wanna see that instead of an explosion? I'm sure you do sense you make explosions yourself and wouldn't really be inpressed by my booms. Here you are, this is the amazing talking ruby!" and he extended his palm with the ruby, but taking care that the man couldn't steal it. "I think I'm going to call him Jejery, though to be honest I can't tell if it's a boy or a girl. Can you, Mr. ...?"