The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Dormouse.
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 large tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Dormouse' scribed in vibrant green ink.
Author: Dormouse Date: Sun Jan 24 22:52:25 2021 Subject One Cleric's Path - Part 1
On the outskirts of Hylo on the island of Northern Ergoth, Dormouse grew up in a small Kender village in the forest. She was as curious as any other Kender child, but her curiosity was not directed at the many interesting objects around her on which her peers were usually focused. Rather, Dormouse was fascinated by what the Kender in her village knew. She was especially interested in stories, myths, and legends, and applied to them the same Kender attention span - or lack thereof. She jumped from question about this detail to request for the hundredth retelling of that tale at the rate that other Kender filled their pockets with fascinating items. As she grew older, more than a few Kender in the village found her interests useful in matters of religion and healing. With her eager agreement, Dormouse's family arranged for her to help out the village cleric - an elderly Kender who was too frail to wander. Of course, Kender in that region didn't have such formal arrangements as apprenticeships, but Dormouse enjoyed learning and helping the old woman and in turn helping the village with their humble concerns of home, hearth, and happiness
After Dormouse had learned and gained a way with people's needs, the old cleric began encouraging her to consider her own spirituality. The old woman knew that Dormouse's wanderlust would set in soon, and having some self knowledge would useful during that time. For her own part, Dormouse had a foundation, but longed to keep searching and expanding her spiritual experiences. The old cleric's mentorship was mainly in the ways of Mishakal, those of healing and compassion, and Dormouse felt a deep connection to those traditions. However, she was still endlessly enamored with tales of other ways. Despite her talents, she doubted whether she was going in the right spiritual direction. Eventually, the old cleric's conjecture was born out. Dormouse began visiting neighboring villages on her own to help the Kender there. It was not too much time before she took longer and longer to come home. Dormouse, her family, and the old cleric all knew that soon the urge to meander without end would be too strong. Dormouse, however, had trouble leaving, in no small part because she felt responsible to the Kender she helped. As an encouragement from her community, the cleric one night arranged a party - as Kender are not much for rituals - to give her their blessing to go.
During the gathering, smoke and noise fast approached the village. Yelling something about "Dragonarmy," an armed group of soldiers burst into the village, quickly pursued by a second group of opposing troops. The two groups fell into combat right in the middle of the village. Some Kender tried to defend their homes, and others - Dormouse among them - tried to help the more vulnerable escape. Some of the pursuing soldiers began setting fire to the dwellings, which were mostly made from wood and grass. The Kender tried to escape, but the fire had spread to the surrounding trees as the soldiers continued their fighting through and out of the village. Dormouse collapsed in the confusion and smoke, losing consciousness. Rain was falling when she came to, making hissing sounds all around her. Dormouse found that the fire had mostly burned out, but not without destroying almost the whole village. She hurt all over, especially the right side of her neck. As she walked around the wreckage, she discovered that many Kender had apparently fled, but many lay injured or dead. She assisted those that she could. That was until, however, Dormouse found the bodies of her father and the old cleric among the debris. They had died during the fighting. She broke down and wept, eventually falling asleep. That was until, however, Dormouse found the bodies of her father and the old cleric among the debris. They had died during the fighting. She broke down and wept, eventually falling asleep.
She woke at dawn, hearing footsteps approaching her. She followed the sound and saw two tall figures walking gracefully toward her. They seemed to be radiant. Not glowing, just brightly colored and immaculately clean, contrasting with the black and grime of the ruined village. They were not Kender, and were rather tall for humans or elves. The male figure was clothed in bold yellows, reds, and whites. He seemed familiar, though she couldn't place him. He said, "You have suffered much." The female figure wore a sky blue dress. Dormouse knew who she was. Mishakal looked kindly down at her, saying, "You will recover from this grievous loss." Her tone shifted slightly, "Your curiosity and doubt are valuable qualities, ones we need. Sirrion here as well as myself, and others." Dormouse's mind worked automatically. Sirrion was a god of fire and creativity. She didn't know much about him, just stories. Mishakal continued, "The choice is yours, of course, but you would be a worthy cleric. Do not let your inquisitiveness and searching stop you from this path. Use them as valued allies, instead. I need my clerics to find inspiration from wherever it can be found." Sirrion added, "And I need clerics of light to help me balance the rampant catastrophic use of fire. The dragonarmies' war has knocked us out of equilibrium. You would be helpful to me in this. The fire of creativity and nurture is essential, that of a reassuring hearth, of keeping a newborn warm in its first hours, or of a hot meal on a winter night." Mishakal said, "Again, the choice is yours, but you need not choose between me and new found wisdom. As a cleric of mine you could use your curiosity and wanderlust to help those in need of home, healing, and hearth, whatever their tradition." The goddess waved her arm, and Dormouse's pain vanished, leaving only a faded scar on her neck. Sirrion offered, "And at the same time help me restore the balance. Each deity alone will not succeed, we need to cooperate. You might also find another circle of communities to replace the home that you have sorrowfully lost here." As they faded away into nothing, Mishakal whispered, "Assist the survivors of your village, then seek us in the wider world, if that is your wish." Dormouse stood stunned for long moments. The other survivors' behavior was unchanged, clearly they hadn't seen any of it. As she dusted herself off and resumed caring for the dead and injured, she pondered her vision. In the surrounding forest, Dormouse happily found her unharmed mother, who had been driven out of the village by the fighting. After burying the dead and tending wounds, Dormouse thought of her happy home and what the old cleric had taught her. Dormouse said to herself, "I WILL do this." After settling her mother and the rest of the villagers in and around Hylo with friends and family, Dormouse said farewell and made her way to Hylo's port. Still grieving, but undaunted as a true Kender, she took a ship to the mainland, intent on seeking the way of the cleric, following her own fashion.
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
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