|My Wandering Lady – A Faerie TaleA large fire burned in the gypsy camp tonight. Around it sat a ring of Neopets. Not gypsies, these. No, they were Meridell locals who had come from all the lands 'round about. For tonight was a special night. Tonight, the Teller of Tales would tell the story of the Wandering Lady.|
|Chaos in the Space StationA loud bang of the front door being slammed echoed in the eventide Zafaras’ long ears. Looking up from his book, Illusens Ixi, Sparkle saw a tall boy with black hair dragging his inventory bag down the hall behind him. “Hey, Mat. What’s up?”|
|A Quest for Color"A yellow Chia? How boring," Lena sighed, staring back at her reflection in the pool of water. It had rained again last night, leaving puddles of water all over the path to school. She wouldn't mind the rain normally, except this time it had made it impossible for her not to see her reflection, and that was something Lena hated.|
|Off To The RacesAll neopets are taught to never give up, no matter how impossible something may seem. This is the story of Tessa, the Uni who wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her dreams.|
|Messi's Meowclops'It was the year 18 in Neopia and a small litter of new meowclops had wandered through the Haunted Woods toward the magical smell of Faerieland. There were four of them in the family and they had been separated from their mother for a few hours now.|
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"My Wandering Lady – A Faerie Tale" by reiqua
A lone Whoot winged his way over Meridell. The countryside below was dark. In scholarly Brightvale it was not uncommon for oil lamps to burn late into the night. But Meridellians had no time for such frivolities. They lived off the land, and rose before the break of dawn. So in these hours of darkness, they slept.
But tonight was different. At just one point – in a clearing not far from Illusen's glade – a light glowed. The gypsy camp, predictably. Gypsies tended to upset the natural order of things wherever they went.
A large fire burned in the gypsy camp tonight. Around it sat a ring of Neopets. Not gypsies, these. No, they were Meridell locals who had come from all the lands 'round about. For tonight was a special night. Tonight, the Teller of Tales would tell the story of the Wandering Lady.
A couple of 'pets shivered in the cold night air. The Teller of Tales, an ancient Pteri, pulled her ragged shawl more tightly about her. Its dull brown blended in to the dull purple of her feathers.
Apart from the warm crackling of the fire, the night was silent. The motley circle of Neopets around the fire didn't speak a word. Sometimes they gazed mesmerised into the ever-changing flames. At other times, they stared at the peculiar Pteri at the head of the circle. In spite of her old age and her ragged clothes, she hadn't lost any of the beauty of her younger days.
Everyone silently awaited the moment when the Teller of Tales would begin her story. But she was in no rush. For a long while, the warm silence stretched.
At length, she opened her mouth and croaked “Let me tell you a story of long, long ago.”
Every eye in the circle turned to her, rapt.
Then, her voice gathering strength as she spoke, she began her narration.
|Magma Blaster Game Guide|
The citizens of Tyrannia live a good life at times. They attend concerts, they can visit the war memorial or perhaps town hall. Things are not always wonderful in Tyrannia. Recently their volcano has been erupting and throwing large numbers of boulders into the air and threatening the citizens of Tyrannia. What they need are some heroes to step up and defend them. Are you such a hero?
|Put Your Party Pants On: TVD|
Tyrannian Victory Day is upon us once again, and you know what that means, a 24-hour long PARTY! But what does one wear to a Tyrannian Victory Day party, you ask? Wonder no more because I am here to help.
|Reign of Ice: Part Three|
“No time for sarcasm, get me out of here!” Brendon was frantic. Irena started looking around for something she could use to pull her brother out of the quicksand. “This is why Mom never takes us on her vacations,” she muttered to herself.
|Sakhmet Stories - The Witch And The Thief: Part Four|
The sighs of melancholy were all that one could hear in the streets of Sakhmet. There were no children laughing in the sandpits, no market women squabbling over who saw the ripest ummagine first, no men laughing as they share a chilled glass of sand shake. Instead, the only sound that permeated through the thick silence were the soft sighs of the grey Neopians who roamed aimlessly through the streets