Fellow travelers often asked Glowie how she managed on her own. It was a silly question. A gnome was never lonely.<br/><br/>Glowie scrambled down the streets of Westermist, loaf of bread tucked neatly under one arm. She hummed a cheery tune as she navigated the winding allies of the city. The cleric came to a lonely, neglected dead end between two abandoned warehouses and plopped onto the cold cobblestone ground. She gave a few sharp whistles as she pulled a few strands of stringy red hair away from her eyes. A chorus of squeaks answered her, followed by a small swarm of rats crawling from every crack in the walls and ground. Glowie grinned, and began to parcel out hunks of bread to the many vermin. "Here you go, guys," She chirped "The Astland Bakery's finest! Eat up!"<br/><br/>How could a gnome be lonely with so many friends around?<br/><br/>But then there was a light so bright that Glowie could not turn away from it. A noise so loud that she could not hear it. The light stole the ground beneath her feet. The sound pulled Glowie's friends from her grasp, stealing them away. Oblivion took everything else from her until there was nothing...<br/><br/>But mud. Deep, sticky, brackish-yellow mud, trying to swallow her alive! The cleric of the Wandering Goddess kicked and screamed, fighting to keep from drowning in its thick wet embrace. She dragged herself to a shallower position, eyes frantically searching for something familiar to orient herself by. Where was Westermist? Where were her friends?<br/><br/>There were others gathering on solid ground. The gnome struggled forward, fighting the icy grip of fear and confusion. "Hey! Where are we?! What happened to the city!?" She gasped.