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 large tome gilt in gold to an Aesthetic standing by you. You note the spine bears the word 'Graff' scribed in burnt maroon ink. As you glance down at the page you read..

From the pages of Graff's book..


Author: Graff Date: Tue Nov 24 02:31:20 2009 Subject In Palanthas Deck hands made busy as the ship coasted into the harbor. Too busy with mast and anchor, and likely too veteran to care, they didn't even look up to take in the sight of the great city. But Palanthas was beautiful, clean and whole, which were hard to come by in these times, Graff knew from his travels. The buildings were tall. Some cast shadows onto the water, which sparkled in the sunlight. He suspected that the water, too, was clean, likely enough to cast reflections from the taller towers, but the water was too choppy from the bustling trade. The cleanliness was nice. It was the kind of thing Graff always appreciated, especially when, like now, he could least afford it. The captain and he exchanged well wishes and the second pouch of his fare, and then he wasted no time in disembarking. As he roamed the port, Graff could feel the tension all around him. He didn't even need the magic. He saw it on their faces and in the strain of over-hurried work. The traders had told Graff that war had come to the east of Solamnia, and that the Knights weren't fairing well. The merchants were on top of such news. As long as the Bay was clear, they'd be fine. They might even come out ahead, if war raised prices. But it was worrying. No one spared a second glance as Graff wandered toward the Old City. That's why he liked cities. It might be strange for someone to be so covered and with face hidden in the summer months, but the winds off the Bay kept the town cool, and there was always someone stranger in a city this big. He was more worried about his appearance when he went to the Library. It shouldn't be altogether surprising. After all, men such as him gravitated toward private, scholarly work, and what better place than the Library? Even still, there would be people. Graff shook his head, as if shaking free of his concerns, and looked around. He was getting close to the Old City. He needed to find an inn on the outside. Without knowing how long he'd stay in the city, it was prudent to keep the luxuries to a minimum. The Lady Herra's allowance had lasted him a few months away from home, but he had learned how to take care of himself the many years since. One luxury that he would pay for was a nice bath. The ocean salt had found a permanent home in his bandages, and it was stinging. He found the inn sprinkled among granaries and warehouses and a stable. It was well lit and unremarkable, the place to go for merchants who wanted to be close to their wares, not the night life. Graff took a room and a hot wash basin. He mechanically unwound his bandages, giving the water time to cool. The water itself was never pleasant, but after drying off, Graff rubbed his burns with a salve that he ground and mixed for himself. It was the first relief he'd had since before the voyage, and he fell asleep with his whole skin tingling. Graff knew he was supposed to be at the safe house. Uncle Daram had made him and all the other kids in town practice over and over again. And Uncle Daram was a Knight, so he knew he should listen. But Lord Tyrian was here from the capital visiting the Lady Herra, and Graff wanted to see for himself. Dad had said he had Elven blood, but Evon said he was something else. The Lady Herra was wealthy, and she received her guests in a room full of fine furniture and skirted tables, so hiding places were easy to find. Unfortunately, from his, Graff could see the Lady Herra's face perfectly, but only a back-quarter profile of Lord Tyrian's. He seemed to swirl the wine in his glass unconsciously as he took his ease. He had two armed men at the door, but they stared straight ahead and ignored everything. Even still, the Lady Herra's face was pale and lifeless, and Graff had begun to think that this was a terrible idea. "I don't mean to be inhospitable, my Lord, but when last we spoke, you assured me that you'd leave Elmwood in my hands. Now, you've come yourself all the way from Lemish and without a courier or a warning. Lady Herra looked flustered. Author: Graff Date: Tue Nov 24 02:38:19 2009 Subject In Palanthas II "Of course, my Lady Herra. I don't deign to interfere with your capable rule. But it's grave news that's brought me here. My sources have informed me that one of your dear friends has been conspiring against us with those damn Knights. I knew how devastated you'd be at the news and thought it best to deliver it in person." Tyrian somehow managed to say his whole spiel in a sneer. Lady Herra was silent for several seconds before responding. "That does indeed sound terrible, my Lord. Please let me know who stands accused, and I will call for inquiry at once." "Oh there's no need for such formalities. My men are handling it as we speak." Lady Herra jumped from her seat, and took her leave without words. Lord Tyrian drained his glass and followed more slowly, both guards in tow. Graff didn't understand what had transpired, but he followed discreetly. He maneuvered through the servant halls and took a side door. Once outside, he understood. His house was engulfed in flames, tips stretching for the heavens, unabated. Village men stood all around, watching the fire consume it. Tyrian's soldiers had subdued the bucket line, though Graff doubted it would've done any good. Graff rushed passed the soldiers who were past such expectations. He hoped he would reach his parents in time. He jerked awake, feeling the intense heat on his skin. His eyes focused on the darkness, and soon he could make out the patterns on the ceiling. But the heat wasn't going away. As his beating heart slowed, Graff started to hear the whinnying horses. They were much too loud and shrill. He didn't have time to wrap up, but he threw on his clothes and grabbed his stuff and headed down into the chaos. He exited the inn to a surprising brightness as the granaries were on fire. It made a powerful burnt smell. Following the smoke into the dawning light, Graff noticed other pillars of smoke sporadically about the city. They must be arsons. War is closer than he'd hoped. Half-dressed men were organizing, but there were no formal fight fighting teams in sight. With all of the fires across the city, Graff figured that they couldn't be counted on. So much for not attracting attention. He rushed forward and dropped to hands and knees, rifling through his ingredients. He uncorked a bottle and spread a sooty powder in a clockwise circle around his body, and he began to chant. The words would have seemed nonsense to all the observers, but Graff had spent his life trying to recover his lost body. He knew more about fire than anyone. As the fire drew out of the building, people began to stare, and to back away. Graff collapsed to the pavement as the fire extinguished. He was getting stronger. A year ago, even, he'd be unconscious. Now, he had enough strength to push himself up and drag his bags behind him as he walked away, slowly. No one followed. The Library would have to wait a few days, war or not. He needed to rest, and another bath. He was bleeding. Even still, he couldn't help but smile. He wished Lady Herra could see him now.

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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

Time Well Spent by Daridar, posted on Sun May 24 00:54:27 2020.

My months in the tower had been fruitful but difficult. I'd spent nearly a year there. The first six months were full o(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

Gaelehad
Galadir
Galama
Galaphale
Garrion
Garvin
Genror
Geriant
Gerrick
Gethsemane
Ghared

Ghargan
Ghor
Gimrod
Glaevanis
Glenn
Glirp
Glug
Gnash
Gnirol
Gnorm
Gode

Gordo
Gorigar
Gorin
Graff
Griffon
Grime
Grimmdrok
Grishnakh
Grisov
Groshnak
Groth

Grumash
Grumblock
Gruuk
Gryffyth
Guidonious
Gumbold
Guthan
Gwenlyn

Astinus says 'There are 41 authors starting with the letter G who have stories in the Palanthas library.'
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