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 tome to an Aesthetic standing by you. You note the spine bears the word 'Nefaria' scribed in glowing red ink. As you glance down at the page you read..

From the pages of Nefaria's book..


Author: Nefaria Date: Thu Mar 19 17:39:35 2009 Subject The wounds fester, Part 1 In Sanction, only two things mattered more to Governor Commin: food and music. He was lucky enough to attain a position which adforded him the best meals he could buy - his wife, unfortunately, could hardly boil a pot of water properly. His other passion, however, was sadly lacking from his life. Until Teria Fejere made her first appearance at Sanction's Market Square. It was the third day of Sanction's annual, week-long Festival of Shinare. Hundred of people flooded the square, and dozen of merchants peddled goods to whomever came within shouting distance. The air was uncommonly crisp and cool for a late summer's day, but the mood of the crowd was undaunted. Some might say it was the ale flowing through their veins; others would (rightly) attribute the light-hearted mood to the melodious offerings of Teria Fejere. She was one of the most alluring women of the countryside. Red locks framed her soft-featured face, flowed over her shoulders, and ran down the back of her curvacious figure. But her body was only the tip of the iceberg of her allure; her angelic voice enthralled, enchanted, and took hostage of the most hardened heart. People say she might have been Branchala's daughter. Governor Commin was not immune to her inadvertant charms. Like anyone within hearing range, he had to stop and listen to whatever magic flowed out of her delicate mouth. But few others were as obsessive over music as he, and it was this obsession which set in motion the cause of both of their demises. Teria roamed the various town celebrations with her family. Her husband, Tam, accompanied his wife with beautiful lyre-work and often lent his tender tenor to his wife's songs. Though he was not nearly as talented as Teria, Tam's voice was the perfect undertone compliment to his wife. Their eldest child, Palao, was also developing into a musician in his own right; he had concocted a new musical instrument out of a lyre, and used a slender branch with golden hairs strecthed across it to saw-out notes on the device, creating a flowing tone which almost seemed to emulate his mother's melodious voice. The family's youngest child, Aria, had been studying with her mother for the past several festival seasons, and was even beginning to lend her 12 year-old voice as an opening act for her more experienced family members. There was little doubt that the child would one day carry on the family trade, for not only did she seem to have her mother's voice, she also had her mother's fine red hair and emerald green eyes. But family ties and beautiful children did not interest Governor Commin; only his desire to possess this wondrous voice seemed to matter. He knew that he MUST have Teria as his own so that only he could be privy to that voice. After her fifth performance of the day, of which Commin sat through all but one - he had to put in an appearance with his wife for some mundane public ceremony - Commin approached Teria and requested that she remain in the city as Sanction's official vocalist. So husky was his voice that Teria knew exactly where his true desires were focused. She respectfully declined his initial request, then more and more forcibly she declined as more and more forcibly he made his requests, which quickly turned from polite to indignant, from indignant to angry, and from angry to threatening. It was only after Palao walked in that the Governor finally relented. Moments later, Tam entered as well, and seeing his wife in a profound state of disarray, he demanded to know what had just happened. Though his wife denied any problems, Tam suspected something had occurred and asked Commin to leave. Commin, worried that he might have jeopardized his elite position, abruptly left, but knew he had to do something in order to hold onto his governorship. As he pushed past young Aria, who had been standing outside the door, he knew he had to hide the evidence of his near-indescretion. Later that evening, he had one of his trusted advisors hire some local thugs to put an end to Tam and his wife. Though it would be a tragedy to the area, Commin considered that a small sacrifice to maintain his position of power. Tam and Teria were throttled in their sleep. Young Palao was slain as well, his throat slit when he came running down the hall of the inn after having heard his mother's scream. And little Aria had been hurt, too, bludgeoned across the face and left for dead at the bottom of the inn steps. Not a one of their prayers to Branchala, lover of music, was ever answered. Twenty days later, when she had finally woken up, she brought to the city officials to provide whatever information she could. The only information they could get off of her - other than general descriptions of big, cloaked men - was of an argument she had with a man matching Governor Commin's description. He of course denied any such encounter, claiming to have been with his trusted advisors after the performances in question. Aria was left in the care of the city, for she had no other relatives who came forward to claim kinship. She wasn't even allowed any property of her deceased parents or brother; those items had been pawned to pay for the funeral expenses and medical costs to revive Aria. She wound up in the care of a local potion shop owner who was a cousin of the Governor. Author: Nefaria Date: Thu Mar 19 17:45:50 2009 Subject The wounds fester, Part 2 A week later, Governor Commin came to Aria. He brought her down to the shop to see if she could be a threat to him. Something about the man touched off a part of her memory, and she clearly saw the altercation which had taken place nearly a month beforehand. When she told him her relevation, he simply responded, "So? No one will ever believe you." She ran at him, and he simply stepped aside, pushing the young girl into a display of potions, which promptly shattered and caused many cuts to her face and hands. He shoved her out of the back alley of the shop, and proceeded to kick her, all the while hissing at her that this time she'd never wake up. At that moment, a blackness enveloped her. For a moment, she though she had died, but then light began to slowly come up - like the slow rise of the two moons. She was on the alley floor, Commin frozen next to her. Next to her was a small knife. She heard a voice rasp, "Take. Hurt him as he hurt you." Standing up, knife in hand, she stumbled over to Commin's frozen figure. As she came closer, she could see his eyes were wide and moving, the only part of him able to express the terror presently gripping him. Finally he found his voice: "Please don't kill me. I'll admit to my crimes." Moving closer, Aria hissed back, "You didn't listen to my mother." Plunging the blade into his chest, she moved closer and added, "You deserve more than just the one death I can give you." The small, single, 2-inch wide wound in his chest began to pulsate. Aria found she could not remove the blade, nor could she detach her hand from it. She watched in fascination as a dull yellow-green light spider-webbed out from the wound and crept up to Commin's face. He began to gag and convulse in rhythm to the pulsing of his knife wound. Froth and blood bubbled up and out through his lips, and darker blood began to seep from the edges of his eye sockets. Commin shook violently sevral times, and then was still. A gravely voice whispered in the dark, "Why didn't you turn him in?" Before she even turned around, Aria replied, "He deserved to suffer." "Hrm," commented the raspy voice. "What?" she asked, as she turned around. She did not know what to expect, but she did not anticpate seeing the owner of the potion shop, Commin's cousin. At first, Aria's eyes widened in alarm, then in curiosity. "Why didn't you stop me? He's your cousin, right?" "Correction: WAS my cousin. Why I didn't stop you is not as important as why I'm not turning you in." "And why is that?" "Because your rage, your anger, was delicious. Your thrist for him to suffer a hundred deaths for each of your family members, it was divine." He grinned evilly and continued, "Tell me, child, what do you know of the god of cleansing suffering, Morgion?" In the nearly seven years that have passed since that exchange, the young and formerly-innocent girl has allowed herelf to change. Not once did she seek healing for the initial scars of her face. Though the potions she was doused in had no harming effects, she constantly picked at the scabs, relishing the pain, and remembering the blind eye turned on her and her family as they all desperately prayed for Branchala's help. After sneaking out of Sanction, having slain all six advisors who provided false alibi for Commin, and having murdered the three local thugs who did Commin's dirty work, she stopped going by her name, ending any inquiries as to how she look liked that daughter of the tragically famous singer. She no longer believed that music (or any god of music) could save anyone. She no longer felt like a beautiful work of melodious art, an aria, but something more sinister. Something more disrupting, less palatable, less pleasing, and infinitely more painfull. Something corrupting. Something nefarious. And she has enjoyed her calling ever since.

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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

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost...But Most Are by Daksarai, posted on Wed Aug 15 15:24:09 2018.

Ladies and gentlemen! Daksarai here, and I am back with another story. Where will this one be I wonder? I imagine it wi(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

Naery
Nagroch
Nakaros
Nathan
Nathaniel

Nefaria
Nekros
Neoren
Nestos
Nethaxion

Nevek
Niao
Nichevo
Noigrom
Noskire

Nyah

Astinus says 'There are 16 authors starting with the letter N who have stories in the Palanthas library.'
\n