An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Grishnakh.

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 miniscule pocket book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Grishnakh' scribed in burnt brown ink.

Author:        Grishnakh
Date    Wed Oct 26 11:44:20 2005
Subject  Unto the Darkness

Stalking carefully amongst the ruins of a small dwarven town Grishnakh 
looked for any signs of life that he might be able to put out.  These 
midgets were an odd kind, living outside of Thorbardin.  His patrol swept 
right through them on their way back to meet up with Grumblock.  A scout had 
been sent ahead to inform Grumblock of the great news of the attack on the 
High King Loror.  But for now his patrol was camped just outside this 
village with goblins and hobgoblins wandering around looting what they could 
find.   
 
As he walked across a destroyed hut he felt something squish under his boot 
and a small moan escape.  With a malicious grin Grishnakh stomped harder and 
heard an even louder moan.  Pulling back the straw roof covering, Grishnakh 
found nothing.  Confused, he looked up, down, left, right, northwest, 
southeast, behind, below, and in back of himself and could not find the 
source of the moaning.  Letting down the straw roof covering, Grishnakh 
turned around to find a dwarven warrior covered in boils.  With a shriek 
Grishnakh backed away from the diseased being as he struggled to draw his 
sword.  The dwarven warrior raised a pus covered hand and said, "Halt.  " 
Refusing to obey the warrior, Grishnakh finally withdrew his sword only to 
see his own hand covered in boils.  He turned to the dwarf only to find him 
gone, and a figure cloaked and hooded in black staring at him with burning 
red eyes.  Suddenly, boils and warts began to surface and break all over his 
body.  He screamed and clawed at himself but it did nothing to ease the 
pain.   
 
And suddenly as the figure spoke, the boils and warts stopped.  "You know 
now who I am, and what it means to disobey me.  Kneel and offer yourself to 
me or suffer evermore.  " The boils still fresh in his mind, Grishnakh knelt 
at the feet of the figure whom he now knew to be the Black Wind.  The figure 
nodded and Grishnakh felt something icy cold brush against his forehead.  
When he looked up, the figure was gone.  Not knowing what the cold was, 
Grishnakh sat there recovering from the onslaught.  His boils and warts were 
gone without leaving any scarring or marks.  But now he had a new mark, one 
he did not know about.   

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 868 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'