The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Brisk.

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 an enormous book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Brisk' scribed in vibrant grey ink.


Author:    Brisk          
Date:      Wed Feb 11 16:59:49 2015
Subject     The Opening Act of Brisk Bloomingswake

Deep in the story of Sanction in a history shrouded by murder and manslaughter, an elf-halfling took to the street so to do his business. Cloud-pageant and eagle neighbor, what flock flies far today?" asks Morning's Brow. "I know not for I've heard not, my friend. What would you talk to me about today?" Said the Cloud-pageant next to Eagle Eye. "Oh I've heard there's a man by the name of Brisk Bloomingswake," continued Morning's brow while hovering lazily in the sky. "Then let me tell you a story about this man, if it should so please you," returned the Cloud-Pageant. "Once upon a time in a city known as Wakingstillness, a man lived who believed in cherishing the light of Paladine." "The burst of flame from volcanoes far and near, for whatever reason they name this place so because it wakes from its stillness." What money he earns from foul means, he orders into a beautiful structure both planned and achieved, for even the ant hill has dignity, just as the trash has its place. In the dark of night, he unleashes all his men to take the idle children and youth in the outskirts nearby. "They fall upon the boys and girls, putting them into the carts taken from whence they came." No one knows where they are, nor do they know if they shall return again. To work he puts them, this Brisk Bloomingswake. To all corners to eke out an existence in service of some boss whose name matters not. When they ask they price, Brisk Bloomingswake begins to think. By what law of the cosmos would I give a child to work for his full lifetime? He ponders and ponders, make a decision; give me all the gold you have, and this one child shall be yours. They part ways with their money in their mind, by their actions do their thoughts no justice. They refuse his offer and procede to go away. Before they can leave, Brisk Bloomingswake has pounced upon them with his dagger in hand. They call upon all their henchmen to do away with this pest. The teardrop of the child does not go unnoticed by this man, and he turns to them and says these final words: "I'll give you all the wealth you desire, if only you take this child off my hands. Here are 500 pieces of gold." They ask him: "Why do you ask us for all we have, then procede to give us what you have?" He replies: "Is not that what I offered at first? To give you all I had? Would you not give em all you had for what I properly owned?" By now they now him to be Brisk Bloomingswake, the infamous smuggler of Sanction "What end does this mean get?" Asks Morning's Brown. "Philosophy," answers the Cloud-Pageant. "While all these men dabble in this business of misdeeds, he philosophize with them?" rejoins Morning's Brow. "Naturally. In being rich he has afforded himself the opportunity to talk how he would like," follows the Cloud-pageant. "Without any fear he talks to those who would do him good as far as money is concerned. For he has spent his life earning their trust, by following the laws of their land." But he has known his leash to have been removed at a point, the same one that joins all men: it is their greed. Why does one not stop to kill Brisk Bloomingswake with his funny manner of speech? For they know who he is and would rather profit from what they know he will bring. "So is it that they know he is rich and operates by some code of business that they let live a man that ordinarily they would kill?" "Do not men do this everyday when one walks by a stranger? Would you not kill a man in a dream, see the same man in the flesh, and then act as if you did not know this person?"

Author: Brisk Date: Wed Feb 11 19:42:22 2015 Subject Brisk's Adventure

Triumphant Night said to Morning Mist, "What hails you, today?" "I have no friends. What brings you to me?" Says Morning Mist. "Oh, I've heard of Brisk Bloomingswake." Said Triumphant Night. "Care to enlighten me on him?" "Brisk Bloomingswake journeyed far to Pax Tharkas." In the caverns beneath the earth's surface he looked for what he discussed with Sylphshade of the Dragon Armies. What is death to you? But a tapestry," Sylphshade had said to him. He wanted to see life's old secrets. In Pax Tharkas he would find them. He consulted the dwarves he found there on what they knew of this ancient place. They told him that there was no purpose in remaining here. What he longed for was all gone. He dreamt about Pax Tharkas. Imagined that it would be a kingdom of the gods. No more was it that, but in his mind lingered reality. He played a tune upon a small harp. Pax Tharkas was once the cradle of dwarven civilization. Its stone walls suggest the past. A symbol of peace it has withstood the time of ruin and reconstruction. Why now are you forgotten? The dragon armies may have kept you, but I remember the dwarves who minded you, deep in the earth's breast. Who lives in a land where no one sees what they do? Who exists to see that the memory of a place is preserved? What token of existence do we have to remember what is important? "He thought these things to himself," declared Morning Mist. "Why didn't he just leave and abandon his dream? To find the old gods? What would happen to him then? He would die?" questioned Triumphant Night. "However you think him, he is still one with his dream of a place where death sleeps and thoughts of newness are yet unborn," returns Morning Mist. "So what power does he have to effect this change?" quizzes Triumphant Night. "There was a time when dragon flew in the skies and humans upon them, when elves transformed into dragons, and man flew into battle as literal as one could intend it." "Did not the first knight dream a dream perfect? What now of his Order? Decay. Dust. Impotence." "But within the hearts of men beats a tune of remembrance deep and true. I feel it is the same way with myself, morning mist." "Would he dwell in Pax Tharkas long and deep, in order to learn the song of the land?" "Of course, he would; but he already has. Let us adjourn to Mystic Daylight. Where we can continue the conversation, again."

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 803 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'

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