Arianiss (prime)/What's an elf to do

(note to a moderator: not entirely sure where this should go)

(general note: this vignette has GM Quilic's blessing)

The Beginning

In the midst of errands, Arianiss pauses to read over the postings on the town commons bulletin board. His head nods in thought, "You should go set something on fire. Maybe Yardie can help again." before continuing on his way.

..some time later..

Inwardly contemplating his options, Arianiss took notice that he was near a long stretch of deserted beach.

"I guess this'll do."

Gathering up driftwood and debris, a moderate sized piling of flammable objects was created. Gazing at it, flickers of pale flame surrounding his outstretched hand, Arianiss petitioned the nearby flame spirits to fire a dazzling bolt of searing golden flames towards the bonfire, setting it to burning.

With a satisfactory nod he sat, slowly entering a meditative trance as senses, both physical and spiritual, turned more alert.

The Middle

The fire crackled as it feasted on the hodgepodge kindling before reaching the necessary strength to handle the larger pieces of driftwood and broken branches. Arianiss's gaze remained transfixed on the yellow-orange dance of flames, while his ears twitched slightly every now and then from nearby noise, and what drifted in from farther away in town and the greater jungle. To all appearances he was asleep, but on the contrary, his presence filled with the energy surrounding him and his mind raced in analyzation.

Time passed.

He could hear the sounds of the fire. He could hear the susurrus of the waves on the beach. He could hear townsfolk going about their business, animals in the jungle calling to each other, and even the occasional clash of weaponry. Bandits no doubt. Ever present, ever a desired profession for those down on their luck. The spiritual presences in the area remained unchanged, and the beach was as devoid of Arkati presence as.. well.. an amusing comparison will present itself later he supposed.

Time passed.

To all appearances he was asleep, but.. oh.. no.. he was. Arianiss awoke with a start, glancing around before settling his gaze back on the fire, the yellow-orange dance ever unchanging, ever slowly progressing to finality.

Nothing unusual had occured, nothing felt out of place. Just another ordinary day on Mist Harbor. He settled back in to wait, and watch, and see what may be seen.

TiMe PaSsEd.

So if you jubmle the wrods in a scneetne, but keep the fsirt and lsat letetr in the smae sopt, it can sitll be uoostdnerd. Hoeevwr, how mcuh of tihs is kdweglnoe of ctmoumociainn and kiwonng waht wloud llailgocy cmoe nxet in a sennctee? Qitue fitcnsniaag!

.dessap emiT

One hundred kettles of tea on the wall. Take one down, serve it around, ninety-nine kettles of tea on the wall.

T
i
m
e

p
a
s
s
e
d
.

With a last little pop the completely normal fire died into a whisper of smoke, just as all fires eventually do.

Arianiss stared at the remnants. He stared for a good long while hoping it would flare back to life and announce, "ha ha, got you!"

It didn't.

With a sigh he stood up, brushed off his clothing, and proceeded to thorougly bury the smolders by kicking sand all over it in such a fashion that onlookers might think the bonfire had insulted his wife.

Job done, he angrily stalked off.

Time passed.

The End

"Administrator Zofiya,

I saw your message about the Iyo and the fires, and so I performed an experiment....."