An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Deckard.

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 gorgious hardback on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Deckard' scribed in rich orange ink.

Author:  Deckard
Date    Tue Jun 18 04:47:05 2002


Subject  My Story by Deckard




Explosions. They're what I remember most about my homeland. You shouldn't look
so surprised, they were very much a common occurence to anyone living in the
general vacinity of Mount Nevermind. The gnomes tended to be quite fond of
them, even if t the surrounding areas got covered in ash, or worse, as a
result.

However, no one can say I didn't have an interesting childhood, even if it was
somewhat noisy.

I come from a small family, small in all respect actually. I am an only child,
no brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles or aunts.

We lived in small cottage at the edge of our small field, where we grew small
amounts of produce.

We had small amounts of money and as such were capable of affording only the
small things in life. Hell my parents even died as a result of small people.

Yes my parents are dead, the unfortunate victims of a particularly large
explosion that sent our cottage tumbling on top of their heads.

I happened to be on the fields at the time. In a twisted sort of way it does
seem funny. The gnomes killed my parents! I talk of this to no one.

I'm not angry. I have had a good, if somewhat boring and mundane, childhood,
and as my mother used to say: 'everyone has their time, one they cannot
escape.' Such is fate. Even if fate does have a sense of humour.

I was left with one thing though; A profound dislike for elves, and the Book
of Izradul.

Elven is half of what I am, and yet I am an outcast, a reject. They shun me
and so in I shun them in return. For every action there is an equal reaction.

The Book of Izradul belonged to an ancestor of mine from my mother's side.

A red robe that lived in Huma's time, during the age of might. A simple enough
man, he wasn't a great wizard but competent and dedicated to the arts.

According to his chronicles, he spent most of his life travelling around
Ansalon, and 'maintaining the balance' as he says.

The book is part diary, part spell book, part encyclopeadia, it makes for
interesting reading.

I could have repaired the cottage and continued to till the land like my
father and his father before him, but I have had enough.

I wish to seek the world, to meet people and, unlike my ancestor, maybe do
great things. At least I won't be bored.

I will not follow in the footsteps of my ancestor, I will not become a red
robe. My mother had wished for me to join the Solamnic Knights. I will do no
such thing.

Where were they when my parents died? Do they not sanction gnomish experiments
and use gnomish inventions?

Like I said, I am not angry, but that doesn't mean that I will give myself to
the accessories of my parents' murder I know of no god but that worshipped by
my parents, Paladine and that worshipped by Izradul, Lunitari. None came to my
parents assistance as they were dying. One day I will find a true God, a
powerful God. One I can worship, one that will reward me.

And so I leave my homeland, in search of those that would teach me, those that
would show me the world and those that would tell me of the true god that will
show me the way of the righteous and powerful.

Hey, Maybe one day I will write my own book.

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