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The Dragon's Treasure by Dr Dolittle of Atlantic

"Treasure..." The needle sharp talon taps the paper as Draco nods, grinning.

I carefully pick up the ancient parchment and look at the flickering lamp light shining through four tiny holes. Then I spread the document out on the table, examining the cryptic figures drawn on the page. To me it seems as if someone had coated the feet of a small bird with a reddish-brown ink and allowed the creature to run wild over the paper.
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When I Close My Eyes - By Hexadecimal of Sonoma

Hesitantly the man approached the tavern, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his brow, concealing his delicate Elvin features. His painted face, though savage looking in its design would not be enough to hide his heritage. Although times were better than before, there were still few places in the humans lands were an elf would be welcome.

Smoothly he opened the tavern door, and quickly took at seat in the darkest corner he could find. It was still early, though he knew better than to be late. He nervously glanced about the room to see if anyone had noticed, apparently the patrons of the Golden Tankard were too busy with their affairs to observe his entrance.

"We don't serve your kind here hooded stranger" a gruff voice hissed, the tavern owner stood at his table peering into the shadows of his hood "You best be one your way now!"
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Palar The Just And The Orc Named Razraoug by Megilhir

Daylight faded from Skara Brea, as gathered shadows begrudgingly yielded to freshly lit candles in "The Shattered Skull' tavern. The pub's common room slowly filled with Britannia's colorful inhabitants. After ensuring all his patron's were supplied with their meals, the gruff innkeeper announced a storytelling as the evening entertainment. He waved a robe-enshrouded man toward the stage.

The speaker seated himself beside the tavern's fireplace, lit his pipe, and began weaving his tale. "Gather near friends and strangers from afar, for I, Megilhir, shall relate a tale most unique. Tis indeed a tale of virtue, if in an unusual manner. This saga comes to my ears from a far distant land, known as Atlantic. Pay now heed to the tale of Palar the Just and the Orc named Razraoug."
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A Family Treasure Hunt by James Ridder of Great Lakes

There I was, with a feather pen in my hand, again trying to figure out why the heck these maps were so hard to make out. And not just one... but all of them. I had just completed 300 world maps for the local provisioner in Minoc, as the locals there can't make it to the outhouse without an expertly drawn map to the offering hole. Plus another 30 sea charts for Silor, a friend in Vesper, who is an excellent fisherman, but could not follow a star even if it blinked "EAT AT KAZOLA'S".

Most people hire me to find treasure. My real name is Sir James. I was named after my father, a knight who fought in the SIN Wars, but all that armor and pounding is not my style of a good time, unless I want to invest in BODs in the smithing field. No, the name I earned was actually a joke, from back in Trinsic where I grew up. We were all outside the city walls... a big group of kids looking for treasure! When it was my turn to find the "Butcher Knife of Parent Dismissal", I searched for hours, trying my best to find it with no luck. Finally, the kids made a huge X on the ground, and from then on I was known as X-Mark.
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Epic Battle by Sam Criswell

Earlier today, I was in Britannia, close to the east bank, when I approached a mage on his horse. The mage was named Keyleo and I could clearly sense the power of Order radiating from him. Upon asking whether the rumors were true, and strange beasts known as Golems and their Controller masters could indeed be found by the brave in our land, he eagerly confirmed this and then happened to mention that he was ignorant of the function of the strange gem-like stones he had found on the bodies of his enemies. While I was ignorant of the presence and location of the Golems and their masters in our land, I HAD paid close attention when the sages and wise ones spoke of them, and their strange stones.

I proceeded to tell him of the arcane gems' abilities and he became very excited by this, as he had a large collection of the newly useful stones. He then offered to take me to a spot known to be infested by these creatures and promptly opened a gate! After readying my weapons and armor, I stepped through, and entered Hell. Instantly, 3 of the immense metal beasts, that I realized were Golems, fixed their cold, metal gazes upon me and attacked. I was forced to flee for my life in an attempt to find a more advantageous position to fight from.
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The Necromancer by Sylvanus

We had been on our way to Brit after trying unsuccessfully to reclaim another Yew tree that had been ravaged by the wasting disease that now gripped the entire province surrounding the village of Yew. The lich had attacked swiftly and without warning from the side of the road, draining the energy from my being with a foul curse. Majalkita had reacted swiftly and paralyzed it. We then turned on the foul creature, wracking its decaying flesh with bolt after bolt of magical energy. It had fought hard and without fear as only the undead can, but it had died nonetheless. The tortured soul freed from its half-life, to continue its journey to whatever destination it's deeds in life had earned it.
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Vanguard into Ilshenar by Azrael of Catskills

Draw a tankard of ale and gather round the fire, merry friends. I bring to you a tale of my recent journeys, with Sparhawk, in the land of Ilshenar!

Twas after a successful night of repelling the nearby demon clan, that I felt drawn into the wild, taking the fight to the foes of Torm. Sparhawk was of like mind and eager to test his mettle against the pantheon of enemies in the newly discovered region some call Ilshenar. Through the swirling ether of the Skara Brae moongate we found our way to the shrine of Sacrifice. Nay, not the shrine we know, but another, strange and alien...

The night seemed somehow darker, and the air was sweet with honeysuckle, masking the danger that lurked close at hand. We fed our restless steeds, which somehow sensed that things peculiar lay wait in the dark forest at the border of our vision. Being mortal men and not possessed of the infravision of our elvish kin, I spoke the ancient words of power, "In Lor", as Sparhawk quaffed an onyx liquid. He winced briefly from the taste, new to the tools of adventure, and then we stared deeper into the periphery.
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The Dungeon Crawl by Lord Brytt of Baja

I remember starting to lose consciousness. I remember that all I could do was look down past Remus at the frothing line of Ophidians beating at the other side of the door, thinking of several expletives and wondering why I wasn�t dead yet. Yes. Why wasn�t I dead?? Maimed, and not a breath away from a new cotton robe for the closet, but not dead. Two healers had set up a station in the corner of the large chamber to the south, but I was too far away and the Balron was still around somewhere�.

This being my first major crawl, I had little idea of what to expect. I packed modestly. Take enough black pearl to hit hard, but don�t impede mobility or cause too much risk for loss. A handful of corked potions, a scrinium to resurrect someone if I lose my mana, and two flasks of chambord for my nerves. Okay. I�m ready.
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A Tamer's Secret by Lava of Great Lakes

Tis a true fact indeed that we all have secrets. Children, teenagers, adults and seniors alike all have something to hide from someone.

Our story begins with the birth of a beautiful red headed child to Mona Barrington and Giorgio Armani. The love affair, engagement and spectacular wedding in Gargoyle City of Mona and Giorgio was well known through out the land. Their love was so boundless it was common fodder for story tellers and poets alike. The birth of their daughter was much anticipated. Upon her arrival in this world she was given the name Lava. The red of her hair evoked memories of rich molten and lava flows.
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It's a Miner's Life by Kazadon of Napa Valley

"Damn Mongbats!! It's the second time this week they do this t'me!!!" Kaz spat on the ground. He was upset, and rightfully so. Kaz was just a simple miner trying to make a living by mining ore and selling ingots, and for no apparent reason, a band of Mongbats chose poor Mr. O'grady as the victim of their mischievous pranks. What the Mongbats were doing was sneaking up to Kaz's packhorse and stealing his pickaxes, shovels and any ingots that were in the horses pack. Now this probably doesn't seem like a big deal to you or me but to Kaz it was. Not only did it take a long time to make more shovels (Kaz was a fair Tinker, not a great one) but this time they took ALL of his ingots so Kaz had to walk back to town and buy a shovel from the provisioner's shop then go back and mine more just to�well, you know how it works. Anyway, he was not happy this day.
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Hunting the Vorpal Bunny by Tancred RedStar of Chesapeake

Tancred knelt quietly in the field and parted the soft earth with his hands. The gardener at the bank had told him planting this little thorn in a farmer's field would stir forth a magic rabbit that carried beautifully colored eggs which would be a prized item in any rares collector's home. Being a knight, wealth was one thing Tancred didn't have in abundance, but if he could slay the darkest evils of Hythloth, surely, he could handle a little rabbit.

"It's gonna pop out really fast" warned Shen, one of his fellow knights in the Fellowship of Virtue. Tancred nodded and placed the thorn in the small hole. Nearby also, Sinoval could hardly keep his giggling under control or his bottle of ale from sloshing all over himself.
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Angel's Wings by Saurus

T'was a bright morning when I awoke with the glimmer of fairydust warming me cheek. Me dreams were angels wings carrying me through a cloudless sky of peaceful slumber. But soft wistful dreams were soon forgotten for what I at first mistook for fairy dust on me cheek, was really the scorching breath of a dragon! His blazing red eyes devoured me with hunger. Within those black merciless eyes was a single dancing flame that was both hypnotic and frightening.

With increasing terror, I left from me bed. In one swirling motion, I managed to cover me naked bosom with a cloak in one hand and to tear me spell book from the night table with the other. But the dragon's fiery resolve was immense, for without warning, he raised one gnarled claw and pinned me slender body against the wall. At the same instant, he expelled a sound so vile, so evil, that me very heart threatened to burst form me chest and run for cover.
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Cayle Gruien by Mal of Europa

For the greater part of the night, the evening had been all but silent. Occasionally, boars wandered out of the undergrowth, attracted to the smell of the meal that had been prepared earlier. At one point, two large bears had been heard fighting in the undergrowth, battling for the attention of a prospective mate who watched idly. Even the weather had been plain. Wispy clouds blanketed the net of stars that sparkled upon a backdrop of the deepest of blues, propelled across the sky by the slight breeze. The night grew cooler as the land lost the heat of the days sun, and it became necessary to light a small fire to suppress the encroaching cold. One of the figures sat about the fire was reciting poems about the ancient times, whilst the others watched on still consuming the remains of their dinner of berries and game. The bards words were captivating the attentions of all that sat about the fire, the tempo of his words reaching the fever of the camp fire that danced in front of them. One of the silouhets that sat around the fire was wrestling a cape out of her backpack. A little way out from the camp stood their trade caravan, positioned to shield the campers from the from the gentle breeze. Close to the caravan stood their horses, happily munching the contents of their feedbags.
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