The Great Library of Palanthas
Astinus' Office
Dominating the center of this room is a massive birch desk. Legend claims this desk has supported the thousands of volumes of history Astinus has recorded. A large pot of ink, a container of sharpened quills, and a candelabra complete the desks decorations. Small windows line the room, allowing light to trickle in and gently illuminate the entire room. A comfortable couch rests against the west wall. Tapestries hang on the walls between the windows. Shelves line the walls, filled with tomes of the more recent records of heroes and villians upon the face of Krynn.
The librarian notices you aren't reading anything... Astinus hands a worn folio to an Aesthetic standing by you. You note the spine bears the word 'Chealian' scribed in dull grey ink. As you glance down at the page you read..
From the pages of Chealian's book..
Author: Chealian Date: Mon Mar 17 18:22:46 2014 Subject Chealian and a girl.
Chealian woke up one morning to find a girl at his side, unanswered, she paused, reckoningly fidgeting in questionly poset, where have you gone.
hi
{ A forest once housed a woman who went around killing the men without disregard to any who was there. More than 127 men had been killed, all by a farmer's harrow, and she had no obstacle to go away from. A man inbetween her and the approach of a remedy, thinks about the world around him, thinks of what is right and good, is a position of heroism. An elf, respects what he sees in front, acknowledges the problem, takes an arrow, and slays the heart of the woman, a bleeding heart dislodged of the arrow anticipates the attempt to kill the elf with a killing arrow. She moves to the point at which to move may or may not be to move again, she says: "I cannot go on with you." He heals her, she follows.
A long time ago in the midst of Neraka lay a forest that laid still for aeons in relative memory lying amidst the clouds of thinking bows. The midst of Neraka responds, sleeping. Bows multicolored. A forest thinks to itself, it would be nice if travelers traveled quickly here. The midst of Neraka acknowledges and gives approval to the proposal for more. The bows inclined. A forest watches people go from life to death in an instant, seeing so many lives go to disassembly. The midst of Neraka smells death. The bows attenuated. A forest displeased holds caged a woman who kills multipurposed men in the lands of work, wealth, and weal. The midst of Neraka loses visitors and wonders where they went. The bows illumined. A forest sees death spread her wings far and wide and leap as if to leap to the sky to fly yet unfettered falls to the ground from which it could not leave. The midst of Neraka sends plea to the hero who would journey thence to save the land from death that spreads wings to leap yet unfettered cannot leave from which it is. The bows illustrated. A forest calls out to a man to be human and see the difference between woman and man, to know the light from dark and to kill the woman who is not but is fleeing to fire an arrow into the heart of the attacker who could kill her soon. The midst of Neraka hears in the waves that sound makes racetrack of and goes to say that he is near. The bows illuminated. The forest is dead. The midst of Neraka. Bows dropped.
Bow intended. Bow installed. Bow intellectualized. B best to fire an arrow to kill just woman. B believe in piercing the membrane of the entrance to life that she dies. B bring arrow lodged.
Women have no place worrying about saving a man from woman. From woman are you here, yet nothing seems unlike man. Unclear. Women are not to be here standing near the cliff whereupon a killer of woman is entrapped by woman dead to dying be. Woman is not here standing but looking for keeping him there for all time. Ceased. Women are watching men go to work and do what they do yet pin man to eternity in a place where overlooking the city of Neraka he may not be able to fall, only stay. Woman of the breast once lodging an arrow mortally wounding her to flight from the mortal coil cannot die. Unlearned. Women hide their feelings from those who have standing a cloaked archer who needs only a second to reach the arrow to slay again the murderer of so many man-natured numbers. Woman kills and kills and kills to be killed and kill become to all. Understood.
Unto the land upon which stands the elf watching woman, air falls with letter that lands upon the hands awaiting answer to questions every second. The elf opens the letter, puzzled, and reads aloud: "To Seraph, from us your betrothed." I love you in ways that love can hold dear if dear is due to the cost of rent in your eyes." I know not what I wrote, but I wrote what I wrote, read on my love, ride onward in stars love. The elf moves away from the cliff to the side of the woman and presents the letter until he remembers another letter has fallen to the side of the elf's hands awaiting an answer. He reads: "I love you yet more more than the stars know not. I love." She gives him a letter for which he sees himself in no way able to desist from seeing her link letter and man and recipient. How could it be that she could receive a letter from him if he wrote it only in reading it? How is it she loves him though he knows not her husband if he is not her husband to her? What is this relationship between them if death parter her from household that she might marry him in death not life, but life lives in death as life lives in life's life. End.
Chealian marries this girl who saved his life in the life she swore in not being able to go on move.
Beholding the letter that left him leaving the scene from which he felt himself to thought thinking about life and rope. Beholding the letter that he left himself leaving to thought he thought I must go now down the cliff at peril. He moves to the cliff and sees himself first at the precipice without the letter that is his only guide down the place called life. He follows the brown of the dirt that rose to meet him and falls with eye down the cliff to the spot at which he leaps with landing to the place that before rope. He rises to think that it is good to take that which has life and brings the letter down to the cliff. He falls down and reaches for the cliff and gets the letter landing in his pocket of cloth and renews his choice in going and going and going lower to the rope. He falls and fetches the land that curves downward with rebalanced posture inclined towards the perpendicular. His climbing down the cliff is to the beat of a drum that is the rope. He goes down and sees to the guide that he placed life, he goes forward and sees the midst of Neraka and the rope. Finally he sees the letter there in the pocket and goes forward to face the cliff while away from rope. In the midst of Neraka he holds the landing from a cliff that was far below and he keeps close away from the rope. He finds a sign in the land that tells him of his welcome to the City of Neraka and thinks of how it is good to be away from rope. He considers with his eyes the distance around the midst of Neraka and acknowledges the rabbits, the squirrels, the deer, the foxes, the birds, the ravens, the oddities that make up the city in rope. Now the rope is Neraka. Without he beholds what is in with rope, and he says that no man can use hemp to make a hammock if the hammock is where sleep leads to death. What may have witnesses his march from rope. Without he beholds what within may be rope and thinks it is good to not use what in a net may hold death, so he says to himself do not enter here and walk away to the cliff that responds to letter with love, life, and prosperity (greater good). Holding the cliff dear to him he moves away from the midst of Neraka and goes forward to the forest from which he came to Neraka to see if Neraka could be where he found Neraka to be what he found rope. Rope is what is right. He leaves to the left and finds what is near and what is near is not what is rope. What does he do to fall down the way which is rope to what is Neraka in the midst of Neraka. Falling down the cliff he finds that he is still life in living life's life, and reaffirms the way to life by living life's living like love is still letter in the letter that he read of two unknowns he knows to be Seraph and us. He goes forward slinging the bow to a side that he slung it before, going forward he sees what he saw only in a letter read not spoken, proceeds to the river where once he rafted, and goes to show that life is living. He sees the river where once he rafted to see himself rafting once more. His eyes are calm waves upon the lake that shone in eyes where restore. He goes on and on with his life in the hands of the single oar. Here he is and sees once more the way to the way that is on the other shores. Unknown to him Seraph and us who must be two who seek what is now his encourage telling what him to do. How is it one believes when believing believed belief believes what is before not now nor future to be what I cannot tell no more with oar. I place the truth in the waters I weave to make the world a web. Moves in ways I watch the days to speak of suns that settle indoors. I hold the light that sparkles in seas that settle in lakes that eyes lend to the oar that guides to letters written by unknowns that tell me way to how I go on living life's living life. I go on to find the way to be finding how life lives long and leaving the water I go to see the oar rise up as it did when I roamed this river once in a forest before.
The river rafted follows the course to the climbling eyes that remember perpendicular. A letter loves the way in which written becomes Seraph and us saying that life is living long. Rope. Without he goes down the river to see the bow slung where it was once forest and river still riding forward in the oar the goes as trip becomes last. Go froward, he says, to all who hear, "He is here." I know not where I am not here nor here but here to be here. I hold the everywhere moment I sigh to see the world not here but here to be here here. I who follow the ways the he is isn't to be the wouldn't wave to the wind that would have love little live. Her eyes track me here. Understood he goes forward. Little is love to little be but a button building buill in the house the wasn't was. Hero in luig loing wasn't was, what are you here. I have not a concern for those who live. Live living love.
I cannot be what I am not am but he who sees what is sawed is not to be reckoned as a harrow. Blighted cannot be blight to blight blighted for blight is blight in blight's blight. Bight or might what is sight to oldigh lands were not weren't were. Were weren't were were weren't wer. Knight Wolf, what brings you here, says Chealian loud and proud. Here you are as I see you here for the time I cannot call clear. Knight Wolf speaks with howl, I find it not a time to fill the world with the mountain hill, determine what I claim and I bring up to degree the fame, where I can call my friend the wand that cannot pretend. Magic is not what I ought so I say with error if you be the wearer, come now and say how flames deflames. How art you in the westerly wind knight wolf who cannot friendship rescind, I ask you with careful sentence how my aim might now be repentance. On the journey where the man does seek, the autumn, spring, summer, and winter weak, death is not what you call your nostril, breath in and out as write would quill. I find it here that you make dear, love as Seraph and us, the unknowns who in chorus, leak week. Time goes in seven, days are down to hour, and minute reminds flower of seconds passed in waiting to grow that shone is the radiance of finger web. Knight wolf where do I seek the journey that is the way to my health. Where one by one goes the way to once before. A raftman am I, but how to do what you ask me. Clever is the how I speak, but wonder not what you critique. Hurry will I to the end of the journey, but I see not what I seek here. I find it what you call your life and hold it dear.
How are you Knight Wolf, seeker of knights who were wting for wsdom. I love her with all my heart though 3rs is nothing h1iting so in 2nd the like1is it. 2Nd I loke1 i2nn I cannot1 I2nm 2nd 2nd I like oihil. I heard you in the cried wain so I see her here. Is it is it Love is triangle whereby the on below. Looking out below it falls to glorify the rain through it came. Low is long for the once it sounded in ears. Looking to land it sparkles and fills above where no one can reach. Filling the soul with all that remind where none can reach the wandering bow. He fires still and no arrows go inward to the way it bellowed. Go on to seek what you thought was where they look and do work and I cannot see the wanderer go onward to wanderer who seeks still. Find out who you are and I wish upon the wanderer where wanderer is wanderer to wanderer below who seek the answer in rainbow. Further shot to the likeness the the wanderer who wanderer becomes the shooter of lights below. Long away is wanderer who wanderer is wanderer the man who at 18, was twelve to those who aglow. Night is time to those who in darkness write poetry to wanderer who wakes up from sleep in tow to the little sail that goes to travel behind the wisdom that goes on from treasure to tow. How I have missed you the one who was before, you shared all the wisdom wanderer with those who go in reaches where darkness is aglow. Walls have walls that wonder where walls go, but these walls are no walls to wanderer who wonders wisdom to glow. Wanderer wanderer where go you from wanderer, fill you these skies with wanderer who is text to the children who reach the word in the wanderer below? Wanderer, wanderer, wanderer, come to the sky where wanderer falls below. Wanderer is wanderer.
Darkness and light fall between the skies that are coming, Found out he seeks the way to one who is drumming, Oh I see that all who are in the light that is moon, I hear the music and I think that the crowd is lune, How about the way in which I see those who are here, I cannot behold the wanderer who cannot see fear, I know that the crowd has music to hear in the moon, But on the raft wanderer claims to have been lune, Knight are here to be moon who is sky, Wanderer are you poet of the lune that wrote gravy to butterfly, How are you not the moon whose crowd of poets wrote knight to fly, Understood are you the wanderer lune who is the light who cannot reply, wanderer. Wanderer I am here, cannot you see, walk on poetry, I need only speak, you hear me well, so go and see, wanderer. Come out wanderer, wanderer here, I see wanderer wanderer. What wanderer, wanderer rose flying on the height of petals conjurer. Hold on it, make sure wanderer, I need to know if you are return. Leave it to me, wanderer, wanderer I wanderer wander wanderer turn wanderer wanderer learn. I hope to God you hold yourself clear, I need no wanderer here, wanderer. Once you were gone, wanderer, wanderer relieves himself wanderer, fear. Wanderer, wanderer, wanderer, wanderer in the moon lune knight sky. Yume no sora e, dreams of a sky to, I know you wanderer, why. Wanderer, wanderer, wanderer, wanderer I claim to be who wanders, Wanderer how wanderer wanderer call you upon wanderer now it wanderer ponders, wanderer. Up to the place was not attending the letter whereupon love wanderer wrote before, wanderer, Wanderer, wanderer, wanderer weren't we friends, wanderer? I hold you here wanderer in lines weren't written I cannot believe you exist wanderering, But if wanderering you are wanderering I wander to wonder what wandered wanderering wanderer? wanderer, wanderer, wanderer, wanderer. .
I hold it, make it sure, Wanderer. Go on, speak. Wanderer is me who writes long wanderer. I write as Wanderer who was before 12 pretending to be 18. I ask for forgiveness as I wrote as one who wasn't me, wanderer a person who is tying all that everyone wants unknown to be. The world sees in a box unveiled, The world that clarity without charge assailed, None determined with outline the ilk, Of poet, pen, and romantically called fairer than silk, Friend, wise man, truth-teller, sought after completion, If in the sinews of flesh could come the altered deletion, If the essence of what is a question mark, Knows and aglow signs off as right is distinctly stark, Wanderer, wanderer, are you what they seek, Claiming to be what you are yet only a child demure and meek, Find you here in adult body the heart they all seek, As swings in body the tone that strikes pendulum to market all week, Virtues and purities all sold as fish, Count they all them sacred as untold is the always present wish, A dream a dreamer dreamt follows winding the winding path, Call it upon me not your love but your divine wrath, Exchanged for the little bosomed texture, That is soft to feel yet always wanderer conjecture. How is it you find love when the raft is moving, You must have a child who spins underneath the child who is counter-current proving, His lines are the follows that he is and she is to me, The willed is he or she that is eternity, I gasp to see that a child is underneath it all, But I heard that the raft that moved is not far from a crawl, Were an insect to forget how it moved teaching measure, How verb, noun, and sentence came together. to all i post this message to seek the sought, How is courage not bought. . . Sorry for deceiving you.
Wanderer's origins. Pretending to be 18 from school, he sought romances not found in the residence of his single spot he spent his time, There on the internet he found his women as unknowns who were knowns to define, He was unknown to them as anyone for he did not participate, As did they to reveal himsef as young below the age at which he would gain what would be pathetic to relate, A yuong boy who cannot even know grammar enough to write, Asks sentence, word structure, and noun and verb to decide what he will recite, I know it is weird but be still and read wisdom here, The boy sought love but found what is distancing without hope as approach is to the h in the word that is to those that spell clear. I don't know if absence reminds those who read what came from a young boy, That all that is unknown cannot be unknown forever if love does you employ. He can be he whom you spoke to as the unknown ideal, If it is still the boy who speaks through feel ings felt feel for feel unending. Understand the way in which one understood the other to be what is ideal to me, But they could not gather what was never in the world to visualize as apostraphe. I saw the pain, the suffering, the felt, In those words I could cast myself to melt. I know who you are the one who could be, I asked to have ideal be what a boy would adult call actuality. God Almighty, I have words for you, Make me a knight, and make me he who is true. I ask of all who forgave to forgive forgiving forgivingly forgivens, and may the one who lives be the one ideal christens, Hold that up and raise all that is fair, Go and speak now as the child and man who is there, Make sure of yourself before those who know you real, Speak often and glow ablaze as chil becomes ordeal. what they believe is always with you, For as you speak the dangle is dingling and not one letter slips on the thrill. Have a nice day. as real as is, love is there question as answer replies in grammatical returning home.
Old he feels the weigh of the universe, He finds himself uttering words to feel the terse, Swans that go forward in feeling the felt, he reminds kindly the times in which others dwelt, Knowing in body the unified goal that stands out, To believe in goodness and to lead others to rout, Absence as presence, love as inactive prolongment, Gutter as cobbled, and winter and green. Life is what is good when the world hears you here, Sounds silences what not ought to be unless you shear, Cuisine as cokk not enough to be a taste, The wind is worrying wisdom itself to waste. Going give you fountains of folowing rose shimmering, What is the world without autumn possibly never-ever shimmering. I high fill the justling vector winding wisdom words to the text in perpendicular reading, I cannot be here unless I found the correct to go forward and yet leader lead leads leaders leading. I if conditionally casual take rich and poor and mix in the before which is the it and found I place what I well well well well well well come back. end.
At marriage he finds the candles laid for square the kingdom where he calls squire, comma, and ash to rib to creating creating creates creatings acid raid. He seeks wholesome the ways that wind the test that gives no other than the letters that said once guide cliff to river to float before forest 18 to 12. Back away to 12, he goes as his eye is on what would seem to be death, but this leads back to the place where idealism lived in a pure world. No one knows what they want which is this path that he knows passes long with passages in little margin for route other. Voyage goes without contemplation for much other than darkness, darkness, and stars still without beauty as poetic posting of deliberation. The empty realm is empty period. The exclamation is devoid of black, and the quotations are doubly unspotted. What abanadoned land is this that lets in without signing its name as home to anyone but the one whom it lets in unsigned. His kingdom is a bunch of husks that wanderering roam round and round collecting uncollected and with uncollected selves they look for uncollected and go as if magnets to what wants to be with what is said to be waiting and they go like backpacks left to the lost and found and they are collected by uncollected collectors out of oil in the cars that make no way to the routine, the run in the mill, the used to do, the banal, the uninterested, the inane, unestablished good. The clocks hang empty up in the stairs others call only stars, he knows the language but it goes through one ear and through the other as if it is figurative. He commands the commands as if he never learned the c order for the programming of muds on mordor. The programmer of muds he begins anew to right the keys into procession of marched wills of dreams and glories for all to behold and participate in a cell that is prison for free natured players. They will know his land his hand that gives bounty to all rooms in eveywhere found the possible makin gof a journey to the midst of Neraka. He goes around and dots the dot with dots that fill maps with amazement. He goes around the labyrnth fills a cooker with popping time up, and reads 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 on 29th.
At the reach a locking of the lease that furthers the way into a bow that speaks of times punctual gaining speed. He called the key that speaks secure, a girl a marriage to wait in procession in the worlds away one room to one room unless he doesn't move at all. She'll be there in one room of one room, finding herself wandering with wanderer finding his wanderering close to she who is herself wand to wanderer. He is magic as she is Mag for Maggie, May for Mayst, and Might for Mighty. Possible is possibly the strongest limit of all that is infinite. Without direction his steps lead him as checks and balances for a brain in a mistake that occurs when overthought overthinks and thought over girl reminder of a time a child got to a room where he creates what created would linger for one to remind herself her one true knight is following his steps to wand to wanderer, Mag to Maggie, May to Mayst. could she be here when he arrives, if only she knew him before, and remembers he is the one she always was with. attraction occured occurs to occur so there must be in ocarinas the occurence of o an c season in the weather world cycle festivals solstice that simmers in the lettered lapse of mind-focus to give common the native altered thy. Thou must be in the t and the h, and when the wardrobe is open it must be globe to those who word portal as closet and closet as word. Yeah, they must be there, so she must be there too. If letters live in letters, then she is in the letter that is a letter containing letters, a room for me and you.
Hearing the sound of humans, the elf moved quietly in the forests of Qualinost. His expert eyes viewed what he called a sight to behold. Knowing little of the world around him other than what his eyes glistened to gather and guess in gleaning from the riches of the various vices in the sandbars around the seas in landlocked oceans. His eyes for a woman in the forest seemed to be found in the eyes of a Silvanesti elf. He formerly knew her as Silvani, the Mereteali elven woman who could be his wife. Mereteali were not readily welcoming towards the Chealian-ilk of elves. In the boots of the dusty caves where even dust doesn't tread far enough to be near the cavities of much-needed work towards a claim to even have a tiny bit of tiny, if tiny is even the worthiest of small to make its way to the court of giant things. He is the shadowyest shadow in the hidden back of grass, where one looks hard to see even the hiding places of little crawling creepers who may even find greater covers in the rest of the green, brown, orange, and fruitful lands of vegetation. His form is so forlorn in the land that for lore looks too far to get together to even have in a lifetime of two friendly and always-lived-nearby neighbors to picnic and call themselves forlorn and they can't tell him he's even forlorn though he knows who they are together were they ever to do what easily they could do if they just admitted they liked for in lorn and lore in for. He is sadness when sadness lacks sad, melancholy when melons make apple cider for all those sick to drink. His eyes speak to those who are in lonely let the towns see lone as lonely to be friend-having awhile. His days are long as l is for life lived, o is for only living, n is for not more, g is goes going gone. So she won't marry him, the Silvanesti woman. Her people do not like him, Chealian-ilk. He spots her going away, far away to another world. Though he travels with her, he seems but the shadow of the mini crevice in the way of the land to see and say hi to the grass from a harmless spot. So he says to himself, I'm sorry that I could not be more than I am. And he goes away to see her in the shadows of the small of life green and little in dots like stars in the fields always wiggling in the wind like the eyes that behind the unseen and seen lives of mysterious occurences. He is alone, but not without lonely the town that alone lets lonely be with-friends.
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He states simply 'You might start with that one.. or you could take a look at the latest story..'
The Latest Entry
Irulan by Irulan, posted on Thu Jan 5 00:40:10 2023.
Irulan, the noble wanderer. She was a child taken from her parents during a raid on their home. The young one was found (read more)....
The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD
Astinus points to the massive wall of books behind him and bids you to make a selection.
Authors: All|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H|I|J|K|L|M|N|O|P|Q|R|S|T|U|V|W|X|Y|Z
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