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 pulp magazine on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Garrion' scribed in glowing grey 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 sighs as he recants 'We saved 803 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'
\n