Once again, Osnaian found himself wandering around in the streets, his bag that carried his clothing and drawing materials over his shoulder. The last place he was in for more than three days was a noble's mansion, where he was with the lady of the house. He was forced out of the house by the extremely jealous husband. But before he was, Osnaian grabbed a piece of paper that was poking from his coat pocket. Since then, he's been reading and wondering what it meant. The last part was obvious. Cookies and large sacks of gold...he needed that. But who would send such a letter to the noble who was probably now frantically looking for that letter.

The Gnome's Foot, Osnaian thought as he roamed around the streets of the rather disgusting quarter of the city. Despite being raised in such a place, he had gotten used to the high class that he had faked his way into. He finally found a depressing inn. "Well this looks happy," he said to himself as he entered.

The smell of the grimy people and stale alcohol hit him like a hurricane. Osnaian was forced to raise his scarf to cover his nose, for the stench was that strong. He looked around for that enigmatic person but his efforts were in vain.

_________________

I was cured all right.

Beinion tapped his foot impashently on the wood floor, brushing his dirty-blond hair out of his face. He didn't like waiting. He didn't like this situation, eather. It was all to strange. Watching the other people around the inn, he took a draught of ale.

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I was Nymphadora Tonks

Wandering aimlessly though the streets, Mataris Innetra looked for trouble. But, as luck would have it, trouble found him in the form of a missive shoved into his pocket when he was in the Market Square crowd.

He pulled it out and read it immediately, as he had nothing better to do. Then he strode through the streets towards the tavern.

Etra curled his lips back in distaste as he looked up at the filthy building which housed the infamous Gnome's Foot Tavern. Smells more like Gnome's Rear to me.

Grinning at his own offcolor joke, Etra entered the creaking doors, fingering his pearls, ready for anything.

_________________

Married Artemis Fowl on July 16, 2007
[!+^$%=#?&]
The Seemingly Nice But Actually Really Nasty Nazgul
School ate my life. *sigh*

_________________


Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Aina came running into the tavern, stumbling to keep her balance as she almost tripped over the threshhold.
Confused and not really knowing what to do, she did what she did best: talked.
"Hey! I'm here! Where's everyone else? I mean, like, this is where we're supposed to be, right? I mean, I might be wrong, I had to get some stranger to explain the letter to me, not that I'm stupid or anything - *nervous laugh* - why would anyone think that... I mean, I'm just a little... well..."
Realizing her voice didn't quite reach everyone, she shrugged her shoulders and looked around, twirling a bit of her yellow-blond hair around her finger.

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<center>
Receiving So Much More.

PM me with prayer requests
www.therebelution.com
</center>

Prince Alexander Balmoral n+2 the Absolutely Peerless of Mauraignia thrust open the door of the Gnome's Foot on Inn Street at precisely four minutes past midnight. Much to his disappointment, the night was clear, and even starry. It would have been much more dramatic had it been storming; lightning would had flashed menacingly in the doorway behind the silhouette of his fluttering, dripping cloak, casting his noble features into shadow.

Unfortunately, this wasn't what was happening. Life was full of disappointment, but at least Alex prided himself, like any true hero, on being an eternal optimist.

Slapping the door open and striding heavily through the room, spurs tinkling, did draw the attention of everyone in the tavern, though. By the look of the customers crouching around the tables and lazing at the bar, the inn was privileged indeed with his presence.

There were no sacks of gold in evidence, but that didn't really concern him. Alex faced the spiny teeth of danger out of the goodness of his heart and the everlasting attraction of adventure. He was a firm believer in noblesse oblige, but slightly confused about one part of the note. What exactly was a cookie?

The prince swept up to the bartender, hands thrust carelessly into his belt. He should at least make an attempt to fit into his surroundings. But one could never conceal a true hero. "Wine, if you please, good man, the best you have."

The barkeep barely glanced up. Odd. "Ain't got no wine here." The words were mumbled, barely formed on his lips.

"Ah... right. That's fine. Just fine..." Alex considered. "Fine, my good man, whatever you have."

The ale was quite possibly the vilest stuff he'd ever tasted. More than a sip would probably kill him.

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

((Well hopefully it's not too late too join. I know what you're thinking..."10 posts? this guy's a noob!" But fear not! I can Role Play, though this is my first on this forum so we'll see how it goes.))

Name: Tarrion Nordian
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 17
Profession: farm hand
Weapons: Dagger
Appearance: Dirty blond hair, average hight, simple farm cloths, a fine dagger many though too be stolen on his waist.

Tarrion opened the door too The Gnome's Foot and hurried in. He didn't know who this massive was from but a bag of gold...and cookies... but it was his only chance too leave this place and that stupid farm. He aloud himself a smile, cookies, this better be worth sneaking away from the farm.

Tarrion looked around the tavern, there were others here that were waiting for something. He should have known he wasn't the only one. He leaned on the wall and waited watched the others. What could we all be wanted for?

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<a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vdHdsb2hhLmNvbQ==" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.twloha.com/images/twloha_banner_02.gif" border="0"></a>

Tap-tap.

How many... how many friends did this threatener in denial have? Whatever the number (and Eyfene didn't try very hard at counting, as she honestly didn't want to know), not all of them looked very friendly. And not all of them looked very proficient at this habit called maintaining personal hygiene. It must be a hallmark of this queer race called huma - Was that an elf? An elf! Here! What were her people coming to? (Tap-tap.)

At this, she recalled her own pointy ears and belatedly drew up her hood to cover them. Tap-tap. She checked her pocket watch. A minute before midnight. No coins, no cookies, but ten barmaids and one scowling bartender too many. For the last time, no she did not want ale! Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap -

"Excuse me." She poked the corpulent figure robed in dun. Or dung, if one prefers. She spoke in lilting Common, very slowly so to guide her point across the elf/human intelligence gap. "Maaay I kiindly infoorrm yooouu thaaat yoouu aarre beeiing inaane? Stooop, pleeaase." Proud of her communications skills, she offered an encouraging smile and sat back to continue staring at her pocket watch. Not a moment too late. The minute hand creaked onto the fourth dash after twelve. One second... two seconds... three...

The door banged open.

Her first thought: Not another human.

Her second thought: Oh dear. An arrogant human. Tinkling spurs, polished armor, and all.

Her third thought: But he is rather attractive... I wonder if he uses soap?

He glided back toward her table, and she would have liked to sniff him to find out, but at that precise instant, the door banged open. Again. Except this time, there was no one there. Correction. There was someone there. Only... he came a bit short of her expectations. Literally.

The gnome stood silhouetted in the doorway for all of five seconds - during which the sky darkened, clouds rolled in, and a flash of lightning set his silver beard and cloak aflame. The next instant, the stars were back in the sky, and Eyfene saw that he really wasn't that impressive, and that his beard and cloak were a few glimmers short of silver. His glare, though, could send a dragon squealing back to its lair. Bald pate gleaming, patched robes swishing, he stalked to the center of the tavern and jolly on continued glaring.

Everyone - bartender and barmaids included - stared down at him. As in, down. Physically.

The gnome must have decided that this wasn't the impression he'd had in mind, because he scrambled onto a table. Muttering under bated breath, he rummaged around in a pocket of his robes. With a spectacular "ah-hah!" he drew out... impressively... magnificently...

A twig.

Or was it a twig? Because the next thing Eyfene knew, that twig had grown longer... longer... into a wand... a walking stick... until finally... a full-sized staff.

Crickets chirped.

"Quiet!" the gnome wheezed, thumping his (full-sized) twig against the tabletop.

The crickets ceased their chirping.

His bushy eyebrows drawing to a V, he glared left and right. "You didn't really expect cookies and coin sacks, did you?"

_________________

"After such a tough note I didn't expect a gnome." Phileas groaned. He limped to the middle of the tavern -the gnome on the table was almost as tall as he was- and watched him. He shook his head, seemingly disappointed. "Certainly not a gnome.." he mumbled. "Well at least you can buy an old men a beer for the trouble!"

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

Tarrion didn't like this. No gold, he fingered his dagger and opened his mouth. "Then why are we here?" He had packed, wrote a note, even bathed he did not like the look of this small old man and he wasn't planing on having too return too that farm.

_________________
<a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vdHdsb2hhLmNvbQ==" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.twloha.com/images/twloha_banner_02.gif" border="0"></a>

"A drink?" Andralagorian asked incredulously. "No offence, madam, but I am not of the proper age for it--nor would my Master be merciful should I appear with breath that smelled of alcohol again. He winced. The last time had not been pleasant, and had effectively cured him of all notions of being an underage drinking champion--even though he only had one more year before one of his age would be allowed to drink intoxicating substances. "I thank you for your offer, though, madam."

At that moment, a voice with an unusual accent said something that sounded like a question.
Andralagorian stared, and stopped tapping. Not because he was feeling compliant, but because it took him enough thought-power to figure out what the remarkably pretty woman had said to him that he forgot to tap his staff. When he did figure it out, he still stared blankly. Inane? Inane? He had thought that only Master Orladio and his pompous colleagues used such difficult speech.

Of course, he didn't want to cause a conflict by bothering someone who could probably, by looks alone, convince all of the other male patrons of the bar to side with her against him. He was just opening his mouth to tell her so when the door opened and a gaudy....well, spectacle was really the only way to describe him. A gaudy spectacle walked in. With armour that reflected the candlelight back in his eyes, spurs, and a large sword and flowing cape, the man was quite an object of interest to Andra. After all, a man in armour with a sword and a cape was likely to be of great interest. And most likely, he was skilled and heroic, as well. And he was in the same tavern as Andra!. At that thought, Andragorian's eyes grew wide. Perhaps the man would be willing to tell stories of his adventures, of which such a man with glittering armour must have had many.

He was about to walk over that way, the thoughts of the beautiful woman who had addressed him already driven out of his mind by epic tales of grand adventure, of swords and dragons, when the door opened with a loud bang and crunch as it impacted on the man who was standing between it and the wall. As he dropped to his knees clutching his nose, he was completely and utterly ignored.

Andra's attention was drawn entirely by the mystifyingly short man standing in the doorway--a gnome, he thought he was. A gnome in patchwork robes and no scalp hair. As Andra stared in curiosity, an idle thought drifted irritatingly through the back of his mind. I'll bet I could see the reflection of my face on the top of his head. He scowled angrily, then promptly forgot about it as the gnome clambered ungainly onto a table and unveiled a twig. As it extended into a staff, Andra's eyes widened. Master Orladio and other druids could do such things--could this gnome be a druid?

"You didn't actually expect cookies and coin sacks, did you?" asked the gnome, so nonchalantly that it took Andra's mind a minute to catch up to his ears. No coin sacks? No cookies? What under the stars was he doing here, then? With a sulky glare on his face, Andra voiced his question.

_________________

Etra suppressed his laughter, but just barely. A Gnome! You've got to be kidding He considered casting his Dark in the Light spell on the Gnome, but then decided that it wasn't worth wasting energy on so small a personage. So he leaned back against the wall and prepared himself for what the gnome had to say.

_________________

Married Artemis Fowl on July 16, 2007
[!+^$%=#?&]
The Seemingly Nice But Actually Really Nasty Nazgul
School ate my life. *sigh*

[[Yay, coolness! ]]

Teyrian was so caught up in trying to figure out who exactly Alex was that he hardly noticed a ... dwarf or perhaps a gnome - either way it was a small person.

"Do tell us why we're here," Teyr said, leaning back in a wooden chair and resting his legs on the table.

_________________


Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Osnaian said incredulously, "Vhat? A bloody gnome?" He half tempted to walk out on it. Then he wondered what his business really was. He thought he was much better than this. Stooping down into this filthy quarter to go on a wild goose chase by a bloody gnome. He sighed angrily and decided to stay. Just in case something interesting will come up. Which was looking unlikely.

_________________

I was cured all right.