With a little understanding... Kaleera slumbered with a quiet rumbling upon a bed of raw gold ore, rough-cut emeralds, and beautiful, enchanted green leaves. She was an adult female green dragon that stood at ten feet tall and had the usual eighty foot wingspan. However, she looked unusual her kind, for her eyehorns were only smooth nubs and she had a sleek, shining appearance, her scales smooth and glossy instead of rough and angular.Kaleera had always been a strange dragoness, for a chromatic. She despised fighting, especially if it were unnecessary, and delighted most in the collection of emeralds. She loved the beautiful green gems with all her heart, and would go quite far to obtain a good-sized or well-cut one, even mining them out herself.She had built her lair out of an abandoned dwarven mine for this reason, and marveled at the fact that the dwarves who had begun the work had been driven away while a mere fifty feet
Humanized Professor Nimnul muttered as he dropped his last invention into a garbage can. He had invented it for no real reason, and could now find no way to use it for his own gain. As usual, he blamed the invention. "Stupid thing. You're useless to me." He muttered, walking away down the alley. Up above, Gadget watched with curious eyes. "I have to see what that man is up to." she said to herself. The new steering system she had installed in the Ranger Wing had worked perfectly, and on the first test. She had been on her way back to Central Park when she had spotted Professor Nimnul skulking about in the alley. Cautiously, she watched as the Professor departed, sitting precariously on a fire escape. She got to the pavement by climbing down the escape ladder, dropping from step to step. The trash can, however, proved just as big a problem. Gadget couldn't climb the smooth metal sides. Well, golly! There has to be somet
Near Death Samantha stood in a white mist. It was cold, and empty, but somehow it was comfortable. She was tired, but not tired enough to sleep. The mouse was waiting for something, but did not know what. It was so quiet, so peaceful. She was a pretty mousegirl of nineteen, barely enrolled in college. She had long, plaited red hair and twinkling green eyes. Her smile was beautiful, and clean. She usually dressed in jeans, sandals, and a t-shirt. She began to pace back and forth. She stopped to wonder how she had gotten here. The mouse curled her t-shirt nervously, straining her memory. She was walking down the street by a construction site and
someone had shouted Watch out, mousegirl!
nothing. She gritted her teeth. Why couldnt she remember? She twisted her t-shirt some more. Not a wind shifted the mist which perpetually swirled about. It was cold, but it wa