The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Garrion.
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 book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Garrion' scribed in brown ink.
Author: Garrion Date Mon Jan 7 11:24:32 2002 Subject the first threads Garrion. Who in the hells is THAT, you might be thinking. Well, the truth of it is, few people know of this green fighter from northern Solamnia. His story begins in a small town, as most tales do. A town so small and insignificant, it is not even listed on any known map....even the maps in any given kender's collections. Garrion was born on a frigid winter's night, and it was a difficult birth. His mother was nearly spent in the process. He came into this world of Krynn amidst hardship, and he has survived. His father was a cropper, and he labored night and day for some Lord that the citizens of this village had never even seen. Garrion's father had come to this place long ago, after fighting in some great battle. Garrion was never quite sure of which battle it was, his father never talked about it. Garrion had a childhood that was relatively free of incident. He lived the usual life of a farmboy, all chores and little fun. The work was hard, but it put him in peak physical shape. But Garrion, as all young boys, dreamed of something loftier. He often liked to pretend that the plows and scythes in his hands were swords and axes. He would immerse himself in fantasies, chopping down imaginary goblin hordes and taking on legions of Ogres in his mind. The simple life, however, would soon come to a violent and abrupt end. As fate would have it, the town watch suddenly sounded the warning horn. The villagers, not knowing what this meant, and thinking it had to be some sort of drill, paid little heed. After all, what would want to attack THEM? Their ignorance and naievity would portend their ultimate downfall. The signal horns of the town watch soon turned to strangled cries as small, armored shapes appeared on the horizon. They carried torches and rusty weapons, and they were charging the small town. "Get inside! Get inside!" the people yelled, but most did not make it. The charging monsters slashed down anything and everything in their path. Barns and homes alike were set ablaze by their torches. Garrion, just coming back from the fields, gasped in horror as the little creatures were torching his farmhouse. The creatures suddenly rung a bell in his mind, something he had learned in a text somewhere. "Goblins!" he thought, throwing down everything but his scythe. He heared muffled cries from inside his home, and he tore off at a dead run. The door hung wide open, and he saw with horror the body of his mother on the floor. She had many small puncture wounds, and there was blood everywhere. His father was fighting four of the goblins, and he was fending them off with a chair. All around him their were flames. "Father! I'm coming!" He shouted, and heedlessly plunged into the fray. Without thinking, and acting on pure rage and emotion, Garrion took a mighty swing with the scythe. To his shock, a goblin head went flying through the air. Screaming, Garrion swing madly at the goblins. Then he looked up. All to late, he saw the goblin behind his father. "Fa-" was all he got out, as the goblin planted it's shortsword deeply in his father's back. His father's eyes rolled back, and Garrion stood in shock. Then, reinforcements poured into the doorway. Garrion was pushed outside of the farmhouse, into the waiting arms of a goblin patrol. He closed his eyes, and readied himself for death. Then, another sound was heard. The high whinny of a horse. Out of the trees came a thundering sound as an armored man on a horse appeared. He yelled a warcry and charged the goblin's down. The little creatures fled in terror of this apparently well-armored and skilled fighter. He did indeed look fearsome in his full plate, and even his horse was barded in plate! The few goblins that stayed to fight were promptly slain. The man dismounted. "Be not afraid!" he said, sheathing his sword. "I am Liff uth Monlmor, Knight of Solamnia." Garrion stood in shock. A real knight! "My..my parents.." he managed to say. Author: Garrion Date Mon Jan 7 11:52:33 2002 Subject the first threds (2) "...you parents are dead, lad," the knight finished, looking into the burning farmhouse. "Alas, we mourn not those who lost their lives valaiantly. Your parents are in the arms of Paladine now. Come, I will take you with me, if you will come." Garrion stood in awe of the man. "Take me..to where?" "To Palanthas, where I live. I will find a home for you, if you will have it. And, judging from that bloody scythe, you will make an excellent warrior." Garrion could not believe it. Somehow, the words of the knight about his parents and Paladine had soothed his grief. And, it is said, that the gods never close one door without opening a window. Garrion made up his mind then and there, and jumped on the warhorse behind the knight. They rode for long hours, and talked about many things. "So...you're a real knight?" Garrion asked. The knight gave a chuckle. "Of course. Would you think that I had lied?" Garrion flushed at this. "No...sir! It's just..well..I've always dreamed about something like this. Only I wish it would have happened differently. Why did the gods take my parents?" The knight breathed deeply. "The ways of the gods are not for us to question. However, I feel that you were destined to come with me today, to come to Palanthas. And your parent's lives were harsh. They now rest in the Blessed Realm, with Paladine." The knight smiled to himself. "And, doubtlessly, your father is having a great time in Kiri-Jolith's fighting halls." Garrion smiled at the thought of his father and his swordplay. He was such a valiant man, and it was sickening to see him cut down from behind, backstabbed without honor. Nevertheless, Garrion filled his mind with the comforting thoughs. "Sir, who is Kiri-Jolith?" The knight seemed to sit a bit higher in his saddle. "Kiri-Jolith is the god of honor, the god of valiant warriors. He is who we all look to, for inspiration and courage. his ways are those of pride and honorable combat." Garrion smiled and said, "yeah..I guess father IS with him. Oh! Are those walls Palanthas???" "Yes they are. Welcome home, Garrion." Garrion stared in awe. The stone walls of the city were the largest structures he had ever seen in his life. As the horse thundered through the gates and into the main street, Garrion was even more impressed with the throng of people. He had never seen more people in his life, either! All walks of life were here. Tall people, fat people, short bearded folk he imagined were Dwarves, though he had never seen one. There was also another bearded fellow, though he was a bit shorter than the dwarf. He was twisting the bolts on some object, and cursing so fast that Garrion could not catch the words. Suddenly, the object gave a sputter and exploded into fire. The little man sat, beard singed, with a great grin on his tiny face. "Success!" he shouted. Garrion had to hold onto the saddle to keep from falling off laughing. "That," the knight said, "is a Gnome. Stay clear of them, if you want to keep yourself intact." The knight slowed his mount to a stop in front of a large building. "I will not be long. I am making arrangements for a place you can stay. You will also have a weapons trainer, if you so desire. the knight could tell by the fire in Garrion's eyes that his guess had been dead on. So, it came to pass that Garrion was trained in all ways of the warrior, and he found comfort and strength in the great Kiri-Jolith, as the knight had said. Sir Liff had checked on him constantly, and had even paid for his schooling. Garrion soon became a skilled fighter in his own right, but his life is far from over. No, he has a greater goal in mind. The Knights of Solamnia. "Someday," he thought, "I will be good enought to be one of THEM. I will repay my debt of gratitude with my blood and service." He always felt this way, felt that he owed the Knights for the kindness shown to him. And, some way or somehow, he will repay his debt. Author: Garrion Date Mon Jan 7 22:03:57 2002 Subject Thoughts from a mountaintop Winter. It has been called a time of death, a time for despair. It can represent our deepest fears, and our darkest emotions. I feel differently about winter, however. I tend to think of it as a time of beauty, if not a time to revel in nature's awesome power. The beauty of the snow is incredibly striking when it is freshly fallen. Sitting on top of a mountain cliff, I have a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. A few flakes remain floating in the air. Some of these stragglers settle onto my hood. It's cold, but I dont feel it. My heavy cloak, hood, and shirts keep out the cold. Heavy grey clouds continue to roll in. Palanthas is in for some more snow, it looks. I can see the watchfires lighting as evening draws near. The mighty city of Palanthas looks like a splotch from all the way up here, but I still cannot help but marvel at it's grandeur. For seven years I have called this city my home. I came there at the age of fifteen as a scared farmboy. I grew into a warrior. It wasnt always easy trying to make ends meet, however. Sure, the knight who brought me here paid for my schooling. But I always needed some money on the side, money to live life with. This, of course, came from an unusual source. Moving my cloak aside, I pull out a long, silver object. My flute. For in my younger days, I played for coin, and, the occasional young girl. Not many people would expect one trained in the art of weaponry to have such aesthetic pursuits. But it relaxes the mind, and the haunting melodies of the flute often help me think. As a fresh volley of snow fires down from the gods, I begin to play. Soft, gentle sounds float down from where I sit. My thoughts come easier, and my head clears. "Ahh. That's better. Yes. I have decided. Soon, very soon, the Knights of Solamnia will be hearing from me. At long last, it is time to repay my debt. The chill winds wail about, and my cloak and hair flail madly. "Whew! Bloody cold!" I say, as brownish hair whips into my face. "Time to head in!" Jumping on my horse, I move off the mountainside. On my way down, I purposefully take the long road back to Palanthas.
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 869 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'
\n