An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Barniven.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap 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 thread-bare book bound in cloth on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Barniven' scribed in unearthly red ink.

Author:  Barniven
Date    Wed Mar 13 18:32:22 2002


Subject  A Calling



The days had begun to pile up since the long trip to Sanction and the storm
Keep. It had been many days since the mage had parted with his Master Shilaan.
With honesty Shilaan had become the closest thing to a friend the strong
tempered mage had had since coming to the Conclave. Their plot had been
wicked, something dealing with Shilaans lust for the blood of the Knights of
Takhisis. The reasons were of no matter, it was the joy of seeing his blade
and spells cuttig through the flesh of those unsuspecting victums Shilaan had
deemed worthy of death.

Things were different now. The days had begun to drag and death was not the
top proirity on the Mages mind.

The black he once wore with pride had begun to look drab and he could feel it
weigh him down. His mood had slackened to the point where the mear word spoken
in his direction could send a flurish of words and spells at the speakers
unknowing head. A shadow had been cast over his mood for too long. The chase
was no longer so sweet anymore, and life was just not what he had wanted when
he left the bards to take his magic further.

The Conclave seemed to be as divided as ever and the tempered Black Mage could
not even dive into clan politics as lately he had begun to feel the lack of
Nuitari flowing through him... He was not sure why, but he lacked the
connection with the great God of Dark Magic.

With the ideas of perhaps a robe change in his Head Barniven laid his head
down to sleep a few hours sleep.

Though this night his normal sleep would be infultrated by a strange red glow.
The dream seemed like life.

The glow surrounded everything. The Red had enveloped every detail of the
landscape and cast a very peaceful glow.

From the mist of red came a figure. It stood just out of focus. Just beyond
the depth of vision. And it spoke.

"Barniven... I am glad you have found your way to me finally. I am glad the
path has finally run its course"

"Who be the one who invades my dreams... You shall not live long if I have
my way!"

"Barniven, do not be silly. Do not think that any who you could kill with
those "weapons" would have the strength to enter your dreams. You know who I
am and you know why I come. I am simply your sign to move forward on the
thoughts you have held for far too long."

"Lunitari... You have heard my thoughts and come... Then perhaps my thoughts
have been true. Is there nothing left for me in the Robes of Black?"

"No Barniven I can not tell you that though there is much to offer within
the Red Robes. There is much to gain and much you can aid with."

Noding his head Barniven drop off into thought. When he returned his eyes to
where the outline had been. Of course it was gone, but the red haze still
settled over all.

Waking from the dream Barniven raised his arm seeing a red glow envolping his
arm... a sigh from the Red Moon?

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 sighs as he recants 'We saved 879 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'