The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Corvelac.

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 dirty book showing much wear on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Corvelac' scribed in burnt red ink.

Author:    Corvelac       
Date:      Sun Nov 19 01:18:01 2017
Subject     The Last

I was twelve when she first came to me. It was the night before my sister died. She came to me again a month later and two weeks later yet. The first time I saw her I was frightened. I knew who she was immediately. There was never a question. The second time I saw her I was upset. The third time I saw her I was in love. She was terrible, of course, but at the same time, she was beautiful and in her own way, comforting. The first time she appeared briefly. She whispered a few words: "she is dead." I awoke immediately to a clamor and a scream. My mother was hurling anything she could get her hands on at my father. She was terrified and angry. My father did not react. He stood there as pots and pans flew past his head, one hitting him in the chest. My mother collapsed to the ground. She wasn't making any kind of coherent sound. I tried to place my hand on her shoulder but she turned her head away and cried. My father said nothing. When she finely calmed down enough to speak she pulled me tight and whispered, "He killed her. He killed our baby. He killed my baby." She was still shaking, and her legs were wobbly - almost as if she couldn't support herself. A serving girl and I walked her back to her room and put her into bed. When I came back into the kitchen my father was still standing in the same place. Still silent. I walked past him into the hallway and saw my sister. She was contorted in an odd position. I knew before I even approached her that she was dead. I brushed her hair back away from her face and kissed her forehead. Nothing happened to my father. My sister had been practicing magic. Where we lived and he ruled this was not acceptable. She had to die for what she did. A week later and my mother took her own life. She couldn't live with the guilt of what the man she had married and loved had done. My father never uttered a word of apology for my mother or my sister. He was responsible for both of their deaths and felt no remorse. The second time I saw her was the day after my mother died. She stayed longer this time. She tilted her head slightly as if trying to decide what to do with me. Eventually she said simply, "You know what you must do. You know what he deserves." The sentiment was clear and the words were true. My father had to die. When I awoke, there was a dagger in my hand. Most of it, including the blade, was pitch black. The pommel was inset with jade and a crescent symbol had been carved into it. It was still early as I crept from my room and down the hall. The servants were still asleep. I was alone to pad barefoot through the cold hall. I quickly made my way to my father's room. As I slipped through the door I heard him muttering to himself as he stared out the window. He did not hear me enter. I strode quickly across the room, narrowly avoiding tripping on a trunk that he moved to the center. I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He turned to look at me and then the blade. He begged to be spared. Apologizing for my sister. Apologizing for my mother. He begged for mercy to his only sun. It was far too late for apologies. The cut was clean and quick across his throat, severing his vocal cords so he could not scream. He slumped forward onto me and I moved out of the way to allow him to sink to the ground. I sobbed as I wiped the blade off on his robe. Not for him, but for the life that I knew as over. My family was gone and if I didn't leave the keep I would be gone as well.

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