The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Galaphale.

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 brief catalogue on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Galaphale' scribed in dull black ink.



Author:  Galaphale
Date    Tue Aug 20 11:21:48 2002


Subject  Diary of a Madman.




Long have I walked the twisted lands of this world. Longer still have I been
allowed to gape at its wonder, before I could walk, before I understood that
the scene's painted before me by the gods were indifferent to my awe. I have
been ever young, a child of Nuitari, in a literal sense as strongly as the
symbolic meaning that most claim and cling to. I had a body once, one of flesh
and blood borne to a mother and a father. In the balance of life, I had been
sickly and frail, unhealthy, in exchange for a unquenchable mind and a talent.

It was not chance that engineered this pass, it was magic. The magic of my
mother, and her people, in their endevors to shape a suitable heir to a house
that had long been neighbor to royalty and found itself unwilling to gaze upon
something it could have. Quite simply, they failed. Oh their intent was
carried out perfectly, no doubt. But they sought to fashion a brilliant mind
when an ignorant one would have served them better. I turned, in my infancy,
to answers of a sought nature, rather than the given. That choice influenced
my development, and later led me down the path that would seal my fate, and
forever endear me to solitude, and death. Not my own, of course, but enough of
another's that I may as well have died regardless.

Pretense cast aside, I have enjoyed my journeys. I have ever been a student of
fate, and an apt pupil at that. I have had the luxury of a long life, and
later, the gift of rebirth into a life that ends up having no end. These were
my gifts, among others. These allowed me to watch the ways of the world for a
long, long time. These allowed me to watch the ways of fate, and come to
understand that in chaos, there is an indifferent selection that acts purely
because it acts. It does so uncaring of who or what is affected, or when. It
does so caring only that if it does nothing, all will cease. The greater power
beyond that of the gods is something that cares nothing for them in the least,
or their doings. Indeed, it is likely just as unaware as it is uncaring.

Perhaps therein lies the truth.

So it is that I find myself forever young, and unable to yield to death again
as I once did. I would like to be given peace, but I know now that there is no
such thing for me. I am no elf, nor am I mortal or immortal. In gratitude to
the meddling of Nuitari and later, Chislev, I am without race, and without
claim to race due both to my choices in past and my fate in present. I walk in
a body not borne of flesh and blood, from a mother and a father. I walk in a
body of design, perfected by the collaboration of two dieties taken either by
boredom, or mischief. Who can say which. It does not tire easily, it bears the
strain of great magics and tapped power when my true form would have crumbled.

I can walk from one side of the planet to the other and not even feel the need
to yield to rest for weariness. And worse still, I do not age. For long years
have I watched, and have I seen even those of my former people grow old.

The children of my enemies bear children who have just now reached adulthood.

I watched the world change, the plates shift, and great cities were built
before my eyes. Others were destroyed, whether by war, design, or chance.

I have watched, and participated in countless wars, some of which embraced the
suffering of the entire world and all it's people. Others I watched were
fought between rival armies, and guilds.



Author:  Galaphale
Date    Tue Aug 20 11:30:35 2002


Subject  Diary of a Madman.




What I watch now, is the blood of all heroes past and present thin, and grow
weak. The people of this world possess no magic to compare with that of the
ancient ones. I would know, for I have traveled back past the veil of time to
visit them and befriend them. I was embraced there as an equal, as an asset to
them, and I watched the forging of the dragonlances, and the enchanting of the
dragon orbs. Ever has time had no meaning to me, for in my own time I feel no
change in myself even as I feel the world change. I waded through the waters
of the universe as well, and visited worlds far away, and worlds nearer than
you would admit. The common theme to the universe is undeniable, for there are
elves and humans and dwarves on many, many worlds. Fate comes into play again.

They have their own heroes, and their own gods, but as always the higher power
cannot be seen and is not mentioned in anything more accurate than "Fate".

And I say this in earnest, though I write to myself, I am saddened for the
lack of true genius in my home world.

We have long recreated the deeds of others. Much like children casting shadows
on the wall at night for their glee, these deeds are merely interpretations,
and are warped and distorted versions of the true heroes. Similar, and
recognizable as well, but pale in comparison. We bicker at one another over
matters that have been bickered over before ages past, and those arguments
were forgotten if for no other reason than fate proving the point of their
futility.

We war for land, and possessions, which I find to be utterly futile. More so
than any other act or harm mortals can visit upon themselves. I have watched
lands taken, and possessions won. Possessions rot while I still live, and the
lands are ever unaffected as their people simply go on, striving to make
enough food to feed themselves and their families this year. Nothing more. One
can be master of the world, but does the world care? Does it cease doing what
it must to survive; to stop and gape at the wonder and magnificence of the
Master, endeavoring to die of starvation before it willfully takes it's gaze
away?

I think not. And so I think that while mortals can die, war is pointless when
fought for ownership.

Yet we still bicker. I would weep, had I tears. I would die, had I death for
myself rather than others. I would sleep, were I unable to wake up. And I
would smile, were there cause.

Galaphale Ethyldias, last son to a broken house broken by the hand of it's
last son.

Archmage of the ages past and to come. Sentinel of Fate.



Author:  Elidar
Date    Tue Jul  1 21:48:26 2003



Subject  Rites of Passage.



______________________________________________________________________________
The Ritual of Endless Night.

______________________________________________________________________________

Wyvern Venom. Blood. Numerous potions, including: Wraithform, permenency, cone
of cold, feign death, animate dead.

The ingrediants and preparations are mindboggling, as is the actual casting.

Only the most gifted could ever hope to complete this complicated ritual.

And the worst part, is that the ritual is lost in obscurity.

The actual spell and list of components are only to be found by an arcane
scavenger hunt from library to library, and certain periods of time in some
instances.

The last cruical bit was found in Bastion, under a suspiciously obscure
magical encyclopedia refference for the arcane manufacture of cat-food.

Obviously whoever wrote the spell was insane.

But the reason for this level of enigma is only now obvious, after having
completed the ritual myself. The sheer power it yields the caster borders from
amazing to horrifying. Without a mortal body, and free of it's needs your
energy is left to cloy at its own presence. It collects around your aura like
dew on the morning grass.

Also, the mortal mind suffers a traumatic shock in giving itself over to
death. A mind was never meant to die and survive.

This in itself induces a level of insanity and hysteria for a time.

After which is passes, leaving in its place a severe hollow feeling. All
surpasses this emptyness is my thirst for knowledge and power. For some reason
it seems that it was always so, but I am not even tickled by fancy any longer.
Once I know I had a taste for humor, and even compassion.

But that is a mere memory now.

I dislike even the mention of my mortal name, it is almost an insult.

Whomever that was died, and I am here in his place. I seem to be more a
collection of knowledge as well as the accumulation of power, driven to
achieve only goals to increase these.

I write to inform the Conclave of the death of one Galaphale Ethyldias.

Elven Archmage, former Head of the Conclave, High Archmage of the Black and
Red robes.

I regret to inform you of his death.

______________________________________________________________________________



Author:  Elidar
Date    Thu Oct 14 02:28:58 2004



Subject  Shards.



They always seem so sincere, those poor bastards. Night after night, they roam
the poorly paved excuse for a road on this strip looking for the best glass of
the worst kind of refreshment.

'Nothing quenches my thirst.' the dark figure had told a rather
ambitiously drunk man who had happened to stumble into a dark corner of the
wrong alley.

Unperterbed, the man had inquired as to 'Whatcha mean fella?'.

The figure stepped forward, drawing a hissing breath into its lungs. Skeletal
hands appeared from beneath the cloak to draw back the folds of the hood just
enough to relieve the poor fellow of his conciousness.

Elidar stepped over the body, releasing the only partially trapped air in a
ragged sigh. Poor bastard, he thought. They always seem so sincere...no
matter.

His musings were interrupted briefly as another drunk stumbled into him by
accident and promptly froze on the spot. The dead elf ignored him, continuing
on to his objective. At the far end of the street sat a particularly worn
tavern, entitled "The Amusing Tit" or some such nonsense. Galaphale had never
cared much for human cities, and the Lich Elidar was no more fond of them than
Galaphale had been. Still...for whatever reason, the book had indicated a ruin
exactly there, in that disgusting tavern.

Well...perhaps a ruin was a bit vague. _The_ ruin was more exact. To any but
the most devoted black robe, this place was simply an obscenity in the eyes of
everything magic stood for. As the newly descending rain pattered against his
cloak, Galaphale realized he was not as concerned so much with power any more
as discovery. A Lich craves power, but not as a young ambitious mage craves
power. This was no yearning. It was pure, simple, cold realization that there
is nothing left for someone who has eliminated death, other than to seek out
knowledge. Particularly forbidden knowledge.

After many nights of observing the...establishment, the Lich confirmed that
the Tavern was likely built on top of the old decaying structure. Likely no
one ever knew of its existance. Mainly, he had been keeping an eye out for
clerics of that damn god Paladine and his miserable children. After carefull
deliberation, he decided that as there were none of the Revered Sons and
Daughters lurking about, he would simply have to try the delicate approach.

'Mmm.... excuse me my good man...' he whispered into the ear of a
passerby.

The startled young man looked into the abyssmal hood, unable to respond.

Ah well, they always do that.

Casting his cloak off, the pinpricks of light in his otherwise empty eye
sockets reguarded the young man carefully.

Perfect...

'I was wondering if you knew where I could find the nearest massacre?'

A single bead of rain thunked against the skull, rolling down over an an
impossibly wide smile.


Author:    Galaphale      
Date:      Mon Jun 23 21:21:37 2014
Subject     I still remember some things...

All too often this is the case. Some snotnosed punk thinking they have power because they belong to the Conclave. Yes yes, you finally took your Test. We're all so proud of you. If it were as fatal as the council claimed, there would only be a few of us. Perhaps then I wouldn't have to wait in line while this child trapped in a man's body went about something other than his business while I wait patiently at the counter for him to find the materials I asked for. Elves are said to be patient. We are, but that doesn't mean we don't think about how annoyed we are that you're wasting your tiny human lifespan in a vain attempt to get on what few nerves we have. We just don't like coddling you while you make mistakes that we learned from when your great grandparents had yet to be born. Hold on...am I at the counter or in line... The searing heat of the demon's spell washed harmlessly over the dark elf as the latter managed to contain his elation once a grunt of discomfort at feeling the temperature had passed. That was not supposed to happen. Why was it that with the Art, the more complicated a dweomer became in planning, the less likely it was to retain all its intended charastics in execution. Oh well. Such was the way of things. Shilaan had been such a worthy foe at one time, but now he was merely responding to the forces of chaos endemic to his people. They simply did not understand or feel the urgency of finding a balance, even if it was reached through self interest. The two black robes had been dueling for what seemed like an eternity despite a foreknowledge of the time limit imposed in such affairs. Sorthrus' involvement in the last grab for power had simplified things by forcing an allegiance between the Tanar'ri and the Silvanesti wizards now locked in contest. Well...contest. It was really just for show, most such challenges were these days. Another fireball sent Galaphale's way did nothing to increase his sense of urgency as he planted his feet and calmly uttered the words to the counterspell. Shilaan was powerful in the way most wizards were, which is to say that a club can smash a window as easily as a brick but convincing someone else to throw that brick had always been the dark elven black robe's preferred kind of power. Persuasion worked better than force, even when utilizing the nuances of the Art. Perhaps that had always been the key to his success, a simple knack for persuading Nuitari to aid him in his spellcasting by being respectful and patient. His counterspell hit home easily, as the demon's own casting was irrelevant thanks to his protective magics. Prepare, always prepare... There is always time to prepare. The Tanar'ri sank to his knees as a simple trick of the arcane found him unpleasantly experiencing an intense lust for the flesh of mortals for the first time in his long career as an uncaring minion of the Abyss. Manipulaton is always dependent upon the feelings of others, who are always dependent on their feelings and thus easily manipulated thus... Galaphale spoke to the demon in Silvanesti, seizing an opportunity to communicate in the language of his people so seldom afforded to him by his choices in life. 'Are we finished with this little distraction yet? I'm bored, quite frankly. You bore me, is what I'm saying.' The demon always sounded so intimidating to others when he spoke in his black, empty way. It was nihilism, emptiness. It was the very epitome of a denizen of the Abyss. 'Are you really gonna talk to me that way Ry? C'mon, I thought we were friends...' he grinned, those blood red eyes becoming perhaps a bit more fearsome than the dark elf had intended to allow when he cast the enchantment upon his enemy. 'As you wish. We've been dancing to this waltz ever for a long time, forever. I've grown tired of defeating you, my treasured enemy. The next time we meet like this, will be the last time I allow you to remain as you are.' Shilaan groaned and rose to his feet, a process assisted greatly by the clawed hand he placed on his knee as he pushed himself up to stand once again. The high elven arcanist was less than impressed. 'I promise you, if I have to skin you alive and leave you in Zhan for the Wildrunners, whom we all know are savages in their compassion for a sob story like yours to the extent that you'll be adopted. A fate worse than death, which I apparently cannot manage to make permanent for you Shilaan despite my very best efforts.' 'That isn't a complete thought Gala...' 'I wasn't finished...don't interrupt me when I'm speaking non-cryptically for a change. You know I detest that nearly as much as your lack of finesse.' The next exchange came rapidly as the two paired off with their best works of the arcane, apparently at this point weary of speaking to one another even to mock their enemy. It did not last long. The one kind of power always prevails over the other. Galaphale remained the High Archmage for a little longer. The ruddy faced little bastard red robe was staring him in the face with an odd insistence that the elf had come to recognize as impatience, as he held out the bag of his supplies. It would be nice if I could just once...kill someone who hadn't directly inconvenienced me. Just once. 'Good luck with your studies.' murmured the dark elf, adding as he reached out slowly for the bundle, 'You're going to need it.'

Author: Galaphale Date: Tue Aug 26 06:02:16 2014 Subject Am I a spy...or just curious?

'So tell me my my young Silvanesti friend, did they stay up all night singing songs about the Beast? Did you sleep together at daybreak in a pile, naked and weeping at the joy of being with one another?' Rhuell asked as he chortled in his odd way. 'That's fairly accurate, but you're leaving out the part about how we covered ourselves with gravy and danced until we were exhausted.' the young elf retorted caustically. He was getting a little tired of being reminded of his race, especially coming from the elder dark-elven Silvanesti who had long ago become accustomed to exile. He was about to add something insulting about the High Archmage's low birth but choked on the breath he drew into his lungs to do so and began coughing. Rhuell only became more amused. 'I see they did nothing for that frail little body of yours. I thought going through the Womb of the World was supposed to heal you? Was that as false as the other rumors we've heard about the Wildrunners?' Sighing as he caught his breath, Galaphale nodded, murmuring irritably 'They said that there was nothing that could be done except to prove myself to their matron by learning the ways of wild magic, as the elder mages had, and redeeming myself in the eyes of their Gods. Only their Gods could help me in that regard. My purpose in going through the Womb was not to be healed in any case. It is merely a part of their initiation.' 'And wild magic? Is it as we believed it to be? Random chance-based and dangerous?' the archmage asked, his countenence becoming severe and his tone aggressive. Looking down at his velvet hewn black robes, newly adorned on the cuffs by a thin band of silver runes, the young elf sighed once more and shook his head, explaining 'No, High Archmage... it is as gentle as they are in spirit. They merely utilize their wills by focusing on nature' he spit the word out as he spoke it, 'and asking permission of their surroundings to see their respective wills to come to fruition. As I saw it used it was a parlor trick; that is, for entertainment.' he lifted his gaze to the other dark elf, who was now smirking, and added, 'They claim it can make one powerful, but takes centuries to master. Only the oldest among them were able to use it offensively to any affect. It is harmless, as they are. Or rather, as their mages are. Dealing with whatever threat they pose would be a waste of resources.' His left hand instinctively went to the wound where Logan had shown him how much harm a ranger of the Wildrunners could inflict as a joke. Given that Logan had sworn to kill him once his treachery had been revealed, Galaphale imagined that his next attempt would be much more sincere. 'Are you listening?' Rhuell chided, looking at him with arched brows from accross the oak desk that separated them. 'Not really, no. You have my undivided attention now of course.' The elder elf rose from his seat and moved to seat himself on the edge of the desk before him, folding his arms as he looked at first down his nose at his protige and then leveled his gaze. 'Look, you did your job as you were asked. The forest of Zhan can never be a home to the exiled. It's better for you that you forget your time there. The trees of Wayreth are the trees of your home now. Come, I want to show you something.' The archmage rose and beckoned him to follow, a gesture that contained enough of an amount of redundance that the magus immediately felt the urge to kill him on the spot. He despised redundance. Redundance...redundance... 'Gaaaaaaalaphale...' He snapped out of his reverie, immediately aware of the overwhelming power contained within the Hall of Mages. He peered at the twenty one seats of the council for a few moments, shoulders lifting as he drew a deep breath that he immediately let out in a disgusted sigh. He would have to wait a while longer before he sat at the head of his section, much less the Conclave. He drug his attention back to his mentor, asking quietly, 'You brought me here for a reason. Continue.' He could not restrain his impatience any longer. Chortling, Rhuell nodded and gestured to the row of the seven black seats on the right of the semicircle, saying 'You have proven yourself to me, despite your short time here.' grinning as he added, 'and your rather rough start.' Groaning, Galaphale nodded and remained silent after. He lifted his hands to rest on the belt containing the many pouches of an arcane spellcaster and stared at the High Archmage. 'Oh don't be so down, what you experienced was just the way the armies of the Dark Queen recruit new members these days. They are no longer an issue, as we've discussed.' he said, his gesture matching his tone in dismissiveness as he went to his seat at the head of his section of the Conclave and sat down. 'Pity I can't find Hisk's family. I've been wanting to endear myself to them in a variety of ways...' he trailed off, getting lost in thought once more before snapping back into reality as his mentor responded. 'You are a Magus no longer. The Order has conferred the title of Master upon you, in recognition for your pecuiliar talents as well as your completing the assignment that the Council asked you to...What is it?' Rhuell asked as his protige held a finger up, pointing at the ceiling. 'I'm done spying for you. Next time? Send someone else. I've made enemies I can't afford to have made and lost credibility among certain circles where I couldn't afford to have lost credibility. I needed those resources and I sacrificed them for the good of High Sorcery when there was no need.' Folding his arms once more as he nodded in acquiessence, the elder elf smirked, bemused as he asked, 'Did you at least set something on fire as you left?' A little smirk played on the newly appointed master's lips as he replied, 'Only what was made of wood. Funny thing about the Wildrunners though...' Brow arched, the archmage couldn't resist asking the question, 'What is that?' 'Everything they had was made of wood.'

Author: Galaphale Date: Tue Aug 26 06:17:59 2014 Subject in-room log 1, part 1

A chill courses through the air, a faint rustling of leaves sounds despite the presence of any such thing being absent. Black, tarry-looking footprints whose origin begin near the bench begin to appear as the chill deepens, leading slowly to the bench which you can see depress under the weight of an unseen figure as the boards creak. A light, mocking chuckle sounds through the air. Ayasana raises an eyebrow. You slowly fade back into existence. Galaphale lays long arm over the opposite knee, the other slowly going to his face so that his chin rests upon his fist as he peers at both of you through narrow slitted eyes. You smirk. Turning to see what was causing the noise, Ayasana sees a stranger being in the chamber. Her hand starts toward her blade, then stops to rest on her hip. Her brow arches questioningly. Galaphale chortles, a raspy, mocking sound as he glances momentarily at the fountain and back to you. 'Ever the questioner of their events, but not the seeker of the truths behind it. Ever the servant.' Ayasana lets slip a crooked grin, half shrugging. 'Such an observation, from someone I don't believe I have ever met.' You say 'Don't believe. Ah yes, I suppose that would be true in any continuity. Memories are a thing of mortals, in any case. My familiarity is not borne of any relationship between us. I merely observe much with little given to me to see.' Leaning against the map table, Ayasana takes in her 'guest'. No mere mage could have avoided the protective gylphs on the room. This one would require caution. Galaphale lifts the unused arm such as to rest his cheeks upon his fists, smirk fading, then deepening for a moment as your thoughts become apparent. You say 'It is curious, that you're curious. That is always a good sign.' Ayasana shrugs, feigning disinterest. 'Better a curious servant than a foolhardy master, yes?' Galaphale grins a bit, head lifting from his hands, which fall slowly to his knees as he sits up and nods, murmuring 'Any master who could be described as such, is such, in name only.' Ayasana crosses her arms, head tilted slightly. 'We can agree on that, at least. Is that what you are here to discuss? Fools and those they lead?' Galaphale chuckles, rising with all the grace contained in the greatest of dancers. He pushes his long black hair from one side of his face, one eye opened such that it's almost glaring at you while the other narrows, laughing. You say 'Something like that.' Galaphale looks at Starfire. 'Do you remember me, dragon?' asks the elf. Starfire says 'Should I?' Starfire moves to Ayasana's side. You say 'Perhaps not, you were young then. I was well acquainted with many of your kind. The shinier of your variety possessed then, and now, a false sense of piety that I've always found annoying.' Galaphale clasps his hands behind his back, head tilting upward to regard the blue with what might be interpreted as amusement. Starfire says 'The vanity of your kind lives on I see. How quaint.' Ayasana casts a sidelong glance at Starfire, noting the lightness of her tone. Galaphale chuckles, head lowering in a slight nod. 'It is what has kept us alive all these years. However, the Silvanesti have not been my kind since long before you were born. The trees of the groves in Silvanost would not even know my name. Now then...' Galaphale steps forward, weaving back and forth with no rhythm in his upper body evident despite a light, metered step. He stops just before the dragon and peers at her, head lolling from side to side. Keeping one hand behind his back, the other appears with a finger pointing upward and lowers to fix on the woman beside the dragon. 'You are bound to this human by your will?' Starfire's eyes fix on the strangers, unblinking. 'I find her annoying, brash, and spoiled, but I choose to guide her to her potential one day. Does that answer your question?' Ayasana's eyes narrow, but she is silent. The elf nods once more, posture straightening, all hint of mockery and amusement evident in it as well as his expression gone. Glancing at the woman and then back, he murmurs 'Yes. I know well your kind also, and such an effort such as you are giving to but the blink of an eye in time, is not one undertaken lightly. I'll proceed with her alone as far as conversation. You are, of course, free to interject as your will beckons.' Galaphale turns his gaze to you now, his dark grey eyes appearing as unyielding as stone. Starfire grins slightly, pointed teeth barely showing. 'Of course.' she adds mockingly. A corner of his lips draw slightly upward in a grin, and the elf nods again. Ayasana gives a slightly exasperated sigh. 'What is it you want?' You ask 'The question is more appropriately redirected back to yourself. What is it that -you-, want?' Ayasana answers quickly 'My Queen's Blessing' Galaphale snickers softly, shaking his head. Ayasana glares back at the elf. You say 'She blesses only herself, and from time to time, her lover.' Ayasana says 'On that we will disagree and agree.' Galaphale lifts his shoulders slightly. You say 'The five headed dragon respects those not unlike herself. As she serves only herself, the way to first grasp what you seek is to understand that. To take hold? Well...that takes an effort you may not be capable of making.' Galaphale raises his eyebrows, a smirk playing accross his lips. Ayasana shrugs. 'Well, I am crushed I disappoint your expectations. Seems you wasted your time, please feel free to leave at any time.' waving her hand dismissively. You chuckle politely. Ayasana smiles brightly. You say 'I have no expectations. Ever. I only have objectives, and I've been around long enough to know that even those are subject to change. As far as humans are concerned, it is impossible to dissapoint me. I was, however, hoping to be impressed. That this blue offers itself in companionship is enough to suffice, for now, I suppose.' Ayasana half bows humourously. 'I am known by the company I keep. Very enlightening. Any more wisdom you care to impart?'. A raspy, wheezing sound goes out from his chest as he takes a deep breath, the first time he has bothered to draw air into his body since his appearance. As you reply, his form decays rapidly, coming to resemble an ancient corpse clothed in tattered, once-black robes that have long since gone gray. 'Not particularly.' he booms, his voice ringing accross the chamber for a seeming eternity. The chill in the room deepens like the worst winter in memory in the worst of places to suffer it. Ayasana's hand goes to her blade, as Starfire takes her arm and draws her close, keeping her from drawing it. You slowly state 'Yes...the dragons know well who made them, and the company she keeps...'

Author: Galaphale Date: Tue Aug 26 06:33:03 2014 Subject in-room log 1, part 2

Starfire says 'That steel will not serve you here. Be still.' she whispers. Elidar glances at the dragon, the tiny points of red light in his otherwise empty eye sockets flashing as a cruel chuckle issues from his entire body. Ayasana glares at the apparition defiantly. Ayasana says 'Who are you?' she demands. Ignoring the question, the creature's eyes begin to glow a deep, crimson red as it murmurs, 'A Baroness. Petty human nobility, and Solamnic at that. Your expression denotes spirit, but not soul. Spirit can become soul, given the proper alottment of time and the resultant wisdom it creates. This is why the blue has granted you its presence. You are not a target, not yet. I do not collect spirits...' You cackle gleefully. You say 'The Greater Power did not rescue me from the chaos of the void merely from kindness. It is kind, but not that kind.' Elidar reaches a skeletal claw of a hand to one of the pouches hanging at his belt and draws forth a lock of black hair. As the creature lifts the strands of hair to his face and brings them accross it, his appearance becomes that again of a black haired elf. Ayasana struggles to free herself from the dragon's grip to no avail. 'I will collect your head you thing!' she yells as Star drags her behind her cloak. Starfire exclaims 'Be silent. Now!' Galaphale chuckles softly at your antics, murmuring, 'I am Galaphale. I am the last Lich borne of our own will, and not that of blessed Chemosh. There were few before me, and there are none after. I speak for Chemosh, and you have piqued our interest.' Ayasana stops struggling, the tenor in the dragons voice stunning her, and the revelation the elf makes further confusing her. You say 'Ah, I see that even the legends have faded. That is most fortuitous. Now none remain that remember my ways. I suppose I can finally operate freely again, without blemish to my reputation.' Ayasana says 'You disappeared long ago. Lords Saige and Dharisath told stories about you when I was little. Those were to scare me or something.' Starfire glares at Ayasana. Ayasana glares from the dragon's embrace, yet says nothing more. Galaphale frowns, eyes narrowing as he stares at you unblinking. 'Some of them have survived after all. I came back too soon...pity. Ah well, such is life...' The elf begins cackling madly. You ask 'You wish to serve Takhisis?' Ayasana says 'I serve Takhisis, there is no wish about it. I am bound to Her by the gifts She graciously allowed me.' she growls angrily. You say 'No, you are -in service- to Takhisis, but you are merely as a butler on vacation. To serve, you must act, and act in such a way as to spread her gospel of domination of the lesser beings of this world first to fruition, then to totality. We've watched all of you for quite some time, and some of us are a little tired of seeing you fail to subdue the worshippers of Paladine and his ilk.' Galaphale arcs a thin black brow, asking 'Are you ready to win this war?' Ayasana snarls 'Take that up with the past Emperors, I gave them Solamnia and they wasted the opportunity. Now the current Emperor has gone missing yet again. They are the ones who hesitate.' Starfire looks at Aya warningly. You slowly state 'No. You hesitate. You need not forsake your beloved colors and their respective dragonkind. You need no crown to be a king, or a queen. You need only to rule. You must find a path and begin to walk, others will follow. They will always follow. You are without limits, at least in your potential. Rest not on convenient excuses, it is not our way. The blue who's name I will not utter, out of respect, will now begin your lessons in the nature of power once my presence is...ameliorated... You chuckle politely. Galaphale peers at the dragon, murmuring, 'The time has come, Starfire. If not now, then never will there be one.' Ayasana looks wide eyed at the elf, then up at Starfire. Her confusion painfully apparent. The back at the elf. Ayasana hisses 'Do not speak so familiar with her, whoever or whatever you are.' Starfire tightens her grip on her ward, illiciting a slight yelp. You say 'I am familiar with all things that experience time as you do not. You are but a whisper, we are books of songs.' Starfire silently stares at the elf. Galaphale clasps his hands behind his back once more, and he begins swaying at the hips as though drunk, gaze fixed upon you even as his head lolls around. 'Marshall the bulk of your forces near where the ancient town of Jelek once resided, if not still. There, look for the spark of many colors. You will be given a word to speak, then your choice of whether or not it is uttered. Once this is done, you will receive an education in how to obtain that which you seek. Beware, however, that should you decide to abandon this opportunity, we will speak again only from beyond both of your graves.' You say 'You will serve me. You already serve me without realization of what that means. It matters not what you do, you can only make it more suitable for yourself.' Galaphale glances at the dragon once more and gives a nod, then a wink and chuckles as the chill and his presence fade into nothing. You slowly vanish into thin air. Ayasana looks into the empty space, muttering darkly, 'I serve only my Queen, you ghost of a legend.' Ayasana looks up at Starfire, who is lost in thought. Ayasana slowly shakes her head, sighing in resignation.

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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