The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Anatole.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 65. You change? Off 65 80.'
The gully continues 'Eyes hurt? Turn Color OFF!! (regular story dates)

Astinus says 'Enter the main library here to view only the author list.'
Astinus gently places a miniscule pocket book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Anatole' scribed in dark maroon ink.



Author:  Anatole
Date    Thu Sep 19 13:50:00 2002


Subject  Aimless wandering



Anatole slowly moved through the dense forest, the many branches
scratching
his already fragile skin. He walked slowly, leaning on his
oak-staff, trying
hard not to harm more than necessary.

He walked like this for what seemed to him as at least a month,
feeding his
useless body with only the berries the forest would provide him.
Easy to say,
he was soon famined.

Colapsing in utter agony, his pale skin filled with small
scratches, his long
black hair falling over his face, he collapsed on his unharmed
robes, the
robes enveloping him in a soft embrace, he felt his conscience
starting to
doze off.

With his collapsing mind, he used his last powers to send a
message to his
mother, Rhianna.

"Mother... I WILL FIND YOU! Grant me access to your fabbled lands
so that we
may talk... NOTHING MORE!"

His conscience now completely receded, he fell into a deep,
dreamless sleep.
He sighed heavily as his face hit the wild underground of the
dense forest.

He now slept as peacefully as his abomination of a body would
allow him.


Author:          Anatole
Date    Mon Jul 24 11:48:59 2006
Subject  Anatole Shadowsinger

To the south east of Neraka, near the dead plains of Kortal, an
odd scene
plays out:

A fallen in cave can be seen quite clearly.

Slowly the stones of the cave-in starts to shift, to fall away as
if pushed
from within.

Slowly but surely, over a duration of hours, stone by stone falls
away, pushed
by an immense will from within the cave.

As the sun sets, an odd creature appears inside what is now a
clear cave
opening.  He is naked, but the nudity is not what would puzzle
any passerby. 
What would make a person wonder what freakish creature had
dwelled in this
cave, was the fact that he appeared human, if not for his skin. 
His skin, not
only as pale as any corpse, was completely transparent.  Veins,
nervepaths,
intestines, muscles and bones were clearly visible, as if seen
through a fine
sheet of glass. He walked comfortably around outside the cave,
feeling the
dead land beneath his toes.  An irregular smile spread on his
face.  Sly, yet
conniving it also showed a hint of humor.  His face was handsome,
if freakish
to look upon for anyone, he had a strong jaw, deep set brown eyes
and a well
proportioned nose.  What he lacked was and any sign of
compassion.  He took in
the world he was yet again a part of, scanning everything around
him. Seeming
surprised he suddenly bowed down low and began digging in the
warm sand.  A
few minutes passed and he finally stopped, pulling out what
seemed to be a
brown cloth and some form of jewelry.  He dropped to his knees,
and started to
pray.  The sand around him began to shift and move, creating
symbols no human
eye should see.  The man in the center of the circle of sand,
rose slowly and
wrapped the brown cloth around him, skillfully wrapping it to fit
his body. 
Standing he held the jewelry high above him, still praying, he
put the
medallion around his neck.

Stopping, listening, he nods to himself, and finally answers the
air: "Of
course master, I will do all you choose.  I am only glad that you
have finally
allowed me to rejoin the world.  I will not fail you."

He began to walk, heading northward.  As he disappeared into the
horizon, the
stones of the cave started to move violently, one by one
seemingly thrown back
into the cave. As the cave entrance filled up the darkness took
the land as it
does every day.  Everything became hidden once more by the dark.


Author:          Anatole
Date    Wed Jul 26 02:29:33 2006
Subject   finding the past

Arriving near Sanction, Anatole was standing on a path looking
down upon
the great city,  clouded in soot, ashes and smoke.  Only the
three tops of
the volcanoes were visible, but they outshone even the sun, as if
they had
created these harsh conditions so that all could revel in their
majesty.
A sly smile found it's way to Anatoles face, but quickly
disappeared.  He
walked down the small mountain path.  
 
A sly smile found it's way to Anatoles face, but quickly
disappeared.  He
walked down the small mountain path.  
 
Nearing the gates of Sanction, he approached the gate guard. 
"Excuse me. 
Do you know where I might find a knight of Takhisis?"  He asked,
leaning on
his staff, his hands plainly in view, his face hidden well
beneath his
robes.
 
The guard, an odd look on his face took a few seconds to settle
his
stomach, then replied "Yes sir...  If you enter the "Lardy pig",
found at
the city center, I am sure you can find a knight or two, keeping
an eye on
the patrons."  He swallowed slowly, trying to ease himself.   
 
Anatole bowed slowly and entered the city walking comfortably
down main
street, bowing and greeting men, women and children.  As he
arrived at the
inn he slowly opened the door, peering around while he walked to
the bar. 
He sat down and waited until the barkeep came to him.  He asked
for a glass
of wine and turned around on his chair, scanning the room.  He
found the
squire quickly, his dark eyes considering what they saw.
 
He nodded to himself and, receiving the glass of wine from the
barkeep, he
rose and walked to the squire.  Taking a sip of the glass, he
flinched
slightly as the bad wines taste spread in his mouth, he nodded to
the squire
and bowed slightly.  "Greetings sir, I have a request to make. 
One might
say I could use your help.  I am looking for a knight of Takhisis
named Anu,
perhaps you can help me find him?  Perhaps you might even have a
record of
him somewhere, or know how to get a hold of it.  I promise you,
it will pay
well."  
 
The squire looked at Anatole, thinking for a while.  He nodded
and
replied "I can ask in the knighthoods archives.  Perhaps they
have records
of him.  Maybe we could meet here tomorrow?"  Anatole nodded
slightly and
said "Very well.  We will meet here at dusk tomorrow."  He turned
and walked
to the bartender, buying a roam for the night.  He walked up the
stairs that
were hidden behind the bar and disappeared from sight.  


Author:          Anatole
Date    Sat Jul 29 13:56:21 2006
Subject The fear will spread.

Sitting in his room in sanction, Anatole sat in a lotus position
on the floor,
sprinkling dust on a hoard of steel coins lying scattered in
front of him.  He
sat quitly, his head bowed deep, resting on his chest. "Master,
lord of
decay, bringer of fear, I ask that you bless these coins with
your essence so
that I may be allowed to spread them among the populace of this
world, once
again bringing you that which you desire most.  I ask you to
plague the coins,
I beg of you to grant me this honor, the opportunity to once
again serve you
as I have done in the past."

He sprinkled more of the dusty powder on the coins, covering them
in a fine
layer.  As he continued his prayer the steel started to glow. 
Not a normal
glow like one you might find from a candle, but an unearthly
glow, one not
allowed to many mortals to see, a dark glow, a glow of the beyond
spread. 
Anatole held his breath but continued praying in his mind,
thanking his god
for granting him his request.  A slight smile spread on his
transparent face,
the skull beneath turning slightly yellow from the glow.

As the glow disappeared slowly from the hoard of coins, Anatole
found two
large canvas sacks.  He split the hoard in half and began filling
them. As he
finished the job he nodded to himself, satisfied with the first
part of his
plan completed.  He rose and spoke loudly "One will be given to
the squire
of the queen's knighthood, the other I will bring to a silvanesti
elf who
worships the powers of good.  The elf thinks I'm searching for my
cursed
mother", he stopped and spat once into the chimney, his face an
expression
of utter revulsion.  He then continued speaking: "He will use a
day or two
until he finds out she's gone, then he will accept his "reward"
and all I must
do is sit back and await the spreading of your greatest gift,
master. The fear
will spread, and it will spread quickly!"

He picked up one of the sacks and left the other beneath the bed.
Looking out
the window as the dusk came, he nodded to himself and spoke one
last time
"Time for paying the squire.  Time for it all to begin".  He left
the room
by it's only exit, closing the shabby door from without.

Author:    Anatole        
Date:      Wed May 26
02:18:09 2010
Subject     The Arrival

Near the city of
Tarsis, a mere mile or two further south, a huge chunk of ice was
slowly melting.
It had not been here last night, the boy
observing the ice was sure of it.
Within it, a brownrobed man at
around six feet in height, was trapped. The boy thought he looked
quite old.
 
His skin seemed almost transparent, although that
might have been because of the ice that kept him trapped.
The boy
could not see when the ice stopped and his skin started.
It was
almost as if it had become one.
The figures left hand was free of
the ice and was moving slowly and in the same motion.
It was
clenching and unclenching continously. It had been burned quite
severely, the boy noticed.
The boy walked towards the figure in
the ice and intending to touch the hand to feel wether or not the
robed figure was alive.
 
"Owen, come here!" his fathers voice
cried out.
"I will pa! but you should come look at this." The boy
cried back.
A few minutes passed as the boy stayed and observed
the figure, his father on his way.
As Owens father arrived, Owen
moved closer to the entrapped figure and once again looked at the
hand, still moving.
His father, Gryor, grabbed him from behind
and pulled him back, just as Owen was about to touch the burned
and scorched hand.
 
"What in the world are you doing? You've
been told many a time to never get close to magic!" 
 
"But Pa..
He's not magic. He's just a man trapped in ice. And look! He's
been hurt" the boy said, pointing at the moving hand.
 
this is
not our business boy! Leave that -thing- alone!" his father
stated,
grabbing the kid by his neck and dragging him away from
the figure trapped in the ice.
 
Many days passed and many nights
came.
The chunk of ice stayed there, melting slowly, but it was
as if the ice would only melt close to a few inches of the
figure, then stop.
A superstitious person like Gryor would
perhaps point out that this creature trapped inside, was the
source of the cold.
 
a few weeks later, just as the sun was
setting, Gryor came back.
He was carrying an axe over his broad
farmers shoulders. His eyes shone of fear and anger.
He stopped
before the trapped figure. He looked at the hand that was still
clenching.
 He looked into the face of the trapped figure. He saw
nothing but ice.
He could not see any eyes, nor any humanoid
features.
He nodded to himself and muttered "Come on, get it
done, then you can go home."
 
He pulled out his axe, took aim
and muttered to himself "I take its hand, may it bleed to death.
Whatever it is." 
Gryor pulled the axe over his head and shouted
out loud as he would have, if he was in a battle for his life. He
then let the axe fall.
 
(More to come when I find the time).

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

Astinus mentions 'We have had over 855 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'

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