There is a myth of an ancient treasure lying deep in the Misty Mountains. It is a powerful treasure, one whose power could perhaps match that of the one ring. Many have sought this strange treasure and that same many have failed, miserably, for their quest has cost them their life. Mystery surrounds this treasure, mystery, and curse. All those who seek it die horribly, though no one knows why. Those very few who survived the trials to reach it, were dead within seconds of being in its prescence. To lay eyes upon it, one must be true of heart, and true of mind. There are inumerable trials that must be overcome to reach it, inumerable beacuse no one has survived to tell the tale.
"Blah, blah, yada, yada, yada... All this ancient mumbo-jumbo crap is getting on my nerves," Icefangs said to herself as she put down her book. Outside her home, the familiar sounds of the night were unusually loud to her sensitive lycan ears. Ice smiled to herself, thinking about tomorrow, considering if she was in her right mind to go chasing after imaginary treasures. She blew out her lantern and curled up under her blankets. Then she put her pillow over her head, and fell asleep.
The next morning she woke up, finding herself lying [u]under[/u] the bed, again. Wow, she thought, I must sleep pretty wild. She crawled out from under her bed, standing up slowly. She stretched, gingerly flexing her aching, cramped muscles. Picking up her knapsack that was thrown against the wall, she slung it over her shoulder and prepared to leave. Then taking one last glance over her room in the great city known as Rivendell, she grabbed the book, entitled, ancient myths and legends of Middle Earth, and walked out.