Nah, not a stickler. Just a poorly worded question at the end I suppose. Hope it was a good short story and I'm sure most people figured it out pretty quick.

A droplet of sweat fell from Arins brow and splashed onto his sword, refracting the moonlight that reflected there. The trolls stench was thick in the air, a mixture of rotting vegetation and decaying fish. It had to be close. Arin gripped his sword tightly, trying to summon up what remained of his courage.

For three days they had stalked the beast, so sure of themselves. Four strong warriors armed with cold steel against a vagrant troll? It should have been no contest. Then it attacked them during the night, all guttural fury and smashing fists that hit like anvils. Boral had taken a hit, going down with his neck twisted at an impossible angle. Arin could still remember the look of determination frozen on his dead face when they buried him that morning. He didnt have a chance to shed his bravado before he had been snuffed out. The troll has fled then, but it returned each night after that, stalking it's hunters, picking them off one by one.

Arin, now exhausted and alone, only wanted to get back to civilization with his life. The smell of rotting fish was growing stronger. His breath quickened as he peered out from behind a tree, but he could see nothing in the moonlit darkness.

Then, he heard it: The whispering sound of dead leaves scraping across rock. "Humaaaaan...a-feared human"

Arin spun around, the point of his sword shaking.

"Where are you, you bastard? Show yourself!" he shouted.

"Dead humans, dead dwarves!" came the reply, "a-feared nasty creatures, dead from Shmarlock, Shmarlock strong! Human a-puts its stingie down or Shmarlock smash it to bits as well!"

Arin swallowed hard. Was this troll really asking him to surrender? Was it talking? In the darkness, the shadows made it seem like there were trolls hiding behind every bush.

Without thinking, he allowed the sword to drop from his fingers. He heard something that sounded like flowing water, was it a chuckle?

And then, the troll appeared from the darkness like a ghost made of swamp detritus, stinking so bad that Arin almost gagged. It pointed a trememndously long, knobby finger at him.

"You go home now human, and tell others that Troll is a-feared one now. If any of your kind come back, Shmarlock smash them dead, human, dwarf, all!"

And then it grinned. Arin could see the rows of razor sharp teeth clearly in the moonlight. Finally overcome by his fear, he screamed and ran, his legs pumping of their own volition, only stopping when he could no longer smell rotting fish.

Long, as in you carry a tent and a few days worth of food and clean clothes with you? (and plan to fetch more food and clean the clothes as needed)

Long as in Tom Hanks in Cast Away and bringing two Wilsons with me. :P

There is this woman, and her husband goes to war and dies making her a widow. She isn't particularly happy being alone, and ends up befriending this gay man who moves in with her. He is a hard working man, does his fair share and brings in decent income. One day, he arrives home to the lady with a look on her face. She says, "Take off my shirt", and he does. Next, she orders him to take off her skirt and he complies. Next her nylons and finally her delicates. And in a very loud, angry voice she shouts:


"DON'T you EVER, wear MY clothes to work, AGAIN!"

Yeah, I'm in :D

Robinson Crusoe, is that you? :-)

Close, Crusoe was me dad and gave birth to me like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Junior.
I've had a troubled life. :-p

So, a rabbi enters a mosque... oh wait, already have the game, not entering.
+1 though.

Thanks and +1 for your generosity, KOCollins! Please, count me in!

I'm afraid my story is well over 500 words (my shorts stories seems to grow by themselves, like the books by Stephen King :D), so feel free to disregard it if you feel so. But it happens in the Darklands and there is a dwarf playing an important role in it, so I hope not... ;)

---

Jurgvald chewed with fruition the last piece of roasted venison and watched fondly the dwarf leaning against a tree stump, at the other side of the fire that protected both from the cold of the first hours of the night. It had been a lucky encounter on the road, indeed. Now his chances of achieving fame and fortune had increased. He'd have to divide the spoils they got, but that dwarf was a veteran of many battles, and his experience would be invaluable in the Darklands. Especially because he had none and had never ventured himself to this part of the world.

Also, the dwarf was a great company. Contrary to prevailing prejudices that had led him to believe otherwise, he was a being endowed with a remarkable, if somewhat quirky, sense of humor, and could count stories that kept you in suspense until the very end, in addition to his endless assortment of hilarious jokes. Since their paths had crossed the day before, the hard journey through wilderness had become much more bearable, lightened by bursts of laughter.

The dwarf drained his cup of wine and poked the fire with a branch. Then gave him a good-natured smile, a sign that another of his interesting stories would be told.

"You ever wonder, my young human friend, the reason why these lands have been called Darklands since immemorial times?"

Jurgvald nodded but didn't speak, eager to hear the story.

"Well, most people think it's because of how dangerous it's to venture in this region, or a reference to the evil creatures that dwell here. And normally they'd be right, although there are many other lands in this world that aren't different in that aspect. But the real reason goes back to the very beginning of the Creation. When our world was woven by the Goddess at her Loom, a strand of darkness treacherously placed there by her Enemy was present among the other threads. When the world took shape, a great part of the dark strand concentrated here, permeating every rock, every tree, every creature. Haven't you realized how since we got here, the daylight seems less bright, the colors less vivid, the sounds more muted?"

Jurgvald thought about it. The dwarf was right. He hadn't realized until that moment, but it was true that everything seemed darker here in a way or another. Even the glow of the fire seemed to be more "gray" here.

"What few people know," continued the dwarf, "is that there are beings here in the Darklands who can channel that darkness for their own purposes. That power can be used to confuse the mind, to make objects vanish, to destroy the unwary intruders. Pity for you, young man, that the first being that you met after entering here was one of them."

Jurgvald looked up from the fire, startled. Then he saw the mocking smile of the dwarf.

"You had me. For a moment I believed you", laughed with relief.

The dwarf's smile widened even more.

"You should trust your instincts more. You did well to believe me."

The smile widened further to inhuman limits, an obscene grimace on a face that seemed to lose his features under a cloak of darkness. The dwarf rose, no longer a dwarf, but a decrepit creature wrapped in a black robe, his parched hand holding not a branch but a staff engraved with runes, which began to draw an intricate pattern in the air.

Jurgvald dragged back, reaching for his sword, but his fingers don't found the hilt. When he looked down, he saw that the sword had turned into what looked like just the shadow of a sword. Beneath his astonished eyes, the shadow vanished in smoke strands, which the night breeze took and dispersed.

The decrepit creature began to laugh with obscene joy.

Jurgvald turned around and ran to his mount. He knew he had no chance to defeat someone as powerful. He had to flee. The laughter grew louder. The horse shifted uneasily and suddenly it was only the shadow of a horse, and then smoke.

Jurgvald turned slowly toward the now silent creature. The staff was raised again. Jurgvald felt a strange sensation, as if all that he was, all that he had been, all that he could have been became smoke. Then the breeze claimed him.

The creature nodded, satisfied. The intrusion had been dealt with. Peace had finally returned to the Darklands.

Pfff... teacher's pet making us all look bad! ^^

Japanese poetry counts?

To be creative
Just to win a giveaway
Can't I just say "in"?

Didn't say it was gonna be good Japanese poetry :).
Maybe another?

Spending time alone
Walks on the beach too quiet
Darklands saves the day

Apologies to you readers. Not as bad as Vogon poetry I hope.

Zef spent most of his childhood exploring the rocky wilderness around his hometown of Shalzerb in the Demiplane of Nightmares in the Realm of Dreams. Like most of his peers he would play pranks and sow a bit of friendly discord among his friends, but that was normal for a young Diabolus boy. He was also particularly curious and used his frequent explorations to study the strange happenings around his home. You see, the Demiplane of Nightmares has an unusually thin border with the Far Realm, and that mad domain would frequently change the nature of the Dream Realm at random. Due to his fluctuating surroundings Zef became fascinated with the unknowable underlying way in which the world worked. Religion, as it is known to Humans and their ilk, is practically unknown among the Diaboli in their native realm. Most simply revere the natural forces they find themselves surrounded by, such as Chaos, Luck, and Magic; unaware of the deities that shape those forces.

Zef always suspected there had to be more to it, and he was shown a new way of thinking when he met Danlor the Discounted. Zef came to the Prime Material Plane by way of a Planar Ally spell which was cast by Danlor a cleric of Trithereon, God of Liberty. Danlor, who was one of the only active worshipers of Trithereon in his region, implored the god to send him a helper to do Trithereon's good works. When the spell was cast, Zef was called from his home to the strange and orderly Material Plane.

Knowing that this strange nightmarish creature must have been chosen for a reason, Danlor offered Zef a chance to know the divine and learn about this strange new world in return for helping him do Trithereon's work. Zef found wisdom in the words of the strange nightmarish creature he was called to, and accepted Danlor's proposition despite the horror the man's appearance caused. Zef learned much from Danlor, and for years they traveled together spreading word of Tritheron, opposing tyrants, and freeing slaves; during which time they overcame their initial revulsion of one another and became close friends.

Zef has gone his own way for some time now, finding that not all Humans are as accepting as Danlor. The two still keep in touch with the occasional sending spell, so Danlor can check on how Zef is progressing on the task he was called to this plane for so many years ago.

------------------------------------

I think I'm going to play him as an activist type character. And the party is going to have a Paladin. I assume hilarity will ensue.

You're welcome, HypersomniacLive. I'm not a huge by the book sort, even my own. I did say only one entry, but, if you add another small joke or two I won't mind (just be sure to add it to your same entry post please). Now, if someone, lets just put out the name Thespian*, for instance, decided to add another oversized entry, then I wouldn't count it, though it may be very fascinating, for a pointy-eared half-breed! ;-p
Thanks all for your entries, I am enjoying them very much. :) I now ask some people to put absoultely no effort in their entries so it will be easier for me to choose the winners! Thanks! =D

How cool is this giveaway KOCollins, thanks +1 . I'm just here to read!