The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to the private room of Hilcaia.

As you enter this room the smell of trees and flowers fill your nose. The walls are covered with books, and where there isn't a bookshelf the walls are a dark green. The room feels damp, but cozy. There is a table in the middle of the room, with a few chairs around it. Where the bookshelves aren't, there are swords, daggers, bows and arrows that decorate the empty places.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Hilcaia.

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 gilt in gold on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Hilcaia' scribed in glowing brown ink.


Author:          Hilcaia
Date    Wed Oct 19 17:05:40 2005
Subject  Hilcaia, the Elven Paladin

This Story, Its starts of an elf being born, An Elf with Already black 
hair, and blue eyes.  His proud parents hold him close.  He grew up like any 
other elven child, that is until he was 5 years old.   
 
His parents were taking him to see some relatives when they were set upon by 
Bandits.  His mother and Father were both killed but he ran, He ran as far 
and as fast as he could.  Soon Enough, he found a group of traveling 
Knights.  Begging them to take him with them he managed to stay.  By the 
time he was 18 he was one of the best Knights there was in his Squad And 
when he was 18 he Left Them.  His commander and all of his brothers-at-arms. 
From there He wonders the world for about 25 years before finally, He takes 
up the call of the War of the Lance.  He Joined again with the knights and 
fought beside them.  Soon he was leading s squad of knights, a group who was 
stationed in Kalamon, when the flying citadel attacked.  The Draconians 
rained from the sky, explosions every where.  It was here, In Kalamon he 
lost his squad and almost his life.  His squad and him were surrounded by 
the Draconians, but fought bravely.  His men were killed and he was wounded, 
a claw across the face and chest.  But He Fault till he could stand no 
longer and fell.  He was left alone, for all thought he was dead.  But to 
everyones surprise the next morning he stood.  He couldnt fight any more, he 
was alive.  Leaving From Kalamon, he rode to Palanthas.  Deciding to spend 
the rest of his life there, but was soon Found By The Wildrunners and now 
lives with them.  Here ends this story for now.   

Author:          Hilcaia
Date    Mon Oct 24 20:06:06 2005
Subject  Hilcaia at Vingaard Mountains

Quietly Hilcaia and his mount, GreyFeather scout North toward the 
Vingaard Mountains.  It was Dark and he had little light.  Hearing a Hiss, 
and knowing what it was, his dismounts and readies himself for a fight.  
With no warning, a Sivak Draconian leaps from the trees at him.  Before he 
could react the Sivak claws him across the neck, letting its poison into his 
blood stream.  With a grunt of pain and fury he bashes the Sivak, sending 
him flying into a tree As the Draconian stands Hilcaia Charges and rams his 
shield into the Beasts head, smashing it between his shield and the tree.  
Staggering back he shakes his head, already felling the effects of the 
poison.  Hilcaia get a white cloth from his backpack and ties it around his 
neck, covering the wound.  Knowing there has to be more Foul Beasts in the 
Cave.  He motions his mount to follow and he strides into the cave, sword 
drawn.  He reaches a T in the cave and goes east.  At first it was a simple 
room, but at further notice there was a door leading upward.  Being a fool 
he is, Hilcaia continues up.  Only to encounter a Green Dragon.  With a 
Great leap he mounts his Gryphon and Charges the Dragon, hoping he could 
take the Beast with no harm to him self.  The fight was short, but Hilcaia 
and His mount were both injured.  Dismounting his Loyal Friend, Hilcaia 
Limps downward, and then toward the west.  Only To Find a Blue Dragon.  
Thoughts of Fleeing raced though his head.  But he quickly shakes them out 
and charges the Dragon.  Ordering his Gryphon to Stay out of this bout.  
This Fight was lengthy but in the end.  The injured Hilcaia came out on top. 
Limping further into the Cave, he knows he should turn and flee to a cleric 
and heal himself.  But he doesn't.  He slowly walks down some steps and then 
to the east.  He opens a door to the north and walks in.  He searches the 
place and finds a trapdoor leading up.  He Follows the Path and Finds 
Kitiara, the DragonHighLord He Stands there Looking at his New foe.  He was 
his Life or hers.  One would Fall, and the other would fight another day.  
He Stands there, Wary from his battles and weak from the poison.  With a 
swift order, the Gryphon attacks the shadow dragon, as Hilcaia Himself 
charges Kitiara.  Great clashes of steel against steel is all that is heard. 
Kitiara lands an upward slash that cuts deep into him.  Hilcaia is thrown 
back but jumps to his feet, and hurls his sword at Kitiara.  The forces of 
the throw, shatters Kitiaras sword and impales her though the heart.  
Killing her instantly.  Victory His, he collapses onto his knees, clutching 
the great slash wound the spans his chest.  Moaning in pain he stands and 
staggers toward his gryphon.  Grunting in agonizing pain he pulls himself 
into the saddle of his mount.  As he Whispers into the Gryphon's ear, it 
strides forward.  Hilcaia himself, wheezing and coughing from the blood loss 
and the Poisoned that coursed though his veins passes out atop his noble 
mount, hoping it will take him to a cleric He wakes laying in a soft mossy 
bed, looking up at his Clan Cleric.  Smiling wirly he lays back, and rests, 
drifting into a deep sleep.   

Author:    Hilcaia        
Date:      Thu Jan 15 03:26:06 2009
Subject     Return of the Savage

A lean elf moves swiftly through the wilderness of Southern Ergoth,
making little to no noise. He moves toward the coast, toward his old life.
He had a brother now, who waited for him at the ship that would take them to
the mainland. His name was Hilcaia and at one time he was a Wildrunner. He
had given up that life some time ago but war drew near. He could feel it. So
once again he will take up his bow and his swords against the forces of
evil. He had a life here on Southern Ergoth, He was a respected Chief of his
tribe and he had a two small children. But he left to make sure the things
he loved were well protected. He sighs grimly as he comes into view of the
shore. He slowed to a walk and looks around. There was a small dock leading
out to a medium sized ship that waited for him. His silver haired brother
stood on the deck of the ship, waving to him. Shaking his head he boards the
ship and greets his brother. "Come then Captain, get us to the mainland. The
sooner we leave, the sooner we can come home." He says in his quiet voice. 

Author:    Hilcaia        
Date:      Fri Aug 14 20:46:23 2009
Subject     The Raiders

Hilcaia catches a strange scent on the night breeze. It strange indeed.
Smoke mixed with..blood? He curses softly and takes off toward the scent. He
moves silently through the brush, stopping only to listen for any sounds.
Soon he comes to a village, some of the buildings up in flames, no visible
sign of life. He hears an ugly guttural language and some laughs, and ducks
behind a tree, an arrow nocked against his bowstring, but not drawn. He sees
a score of the ugly goblin, walking away, carrying bags of loot. Rage built
up in Hilcaia, but he didnt let it control him. He slings his bow across his
shoulder and scampers up a tree.

He follows them, silently through the trees. With a grim smile, he pulls an
arrow from his hip quiver, nocks, draws, and releases it on in one smooth
motion. The arrow sinks into the back of one of the goblins and he falls
over, dead. Hilcaia moves swiftly and silently, circling around the goblin
and shoots another goblin from a the opposite side the first one. The
goblins start to shriek into the night, scanning the trees for the shooter.
Dancing from tree to tree, Hilcaia releases two more arrows and downs two
more goblins. All but two take off into the darkness. Hilcaia smirks and
drops down from the trees, his face like a thundercloud. 

"Are you afraid?" Hilcaia says quietly, to the obviously scared goblin. They
curse at him in their guttural language. He slings his bow across his back
and draws his two slim fighting knives. He twirls them in his hand and then
darts across the small clearing they were in, slashing one of the goblin
across the back. It shrieks in pain and spins, only to find a small swirl of
leaves. Hilcaia smirks as he steps into the circle of torchlight. "Filthy
things. Come then! Come to your deaths." he says as he twirls his blades
again, slinging the goblin blood in the air. The goblin charge shouting
curses.

Hiilcaia darts forward, driving both knives into the chest of the one he
wounded. As he pulled away, the other goblin slashes across his face, from
his ear to his nose, almost destroying his earlobe and coming close to his
eye. Hilcaia screams in pain and rage and slashes the goblins throat, then
rapidly stabs him multiple times. He falls back away from the dead goblins,
cursing himself for being so careless. A shadow passes across the ground, He
looks up and thank the gods, A griffon. Windriders must be at the village.
He spits on the dead goblins and starts to make his way back to the village.

Author:    Hilcaia        
Date:      Tue Aug 18 03:05:52 2009
Subject     The goblin camp.

The fowl smell of the goblin camp filled Hilcaia's nostrils. He fingered
the hilt of his thin straight elven blade at his side, waiting for the
signal. He was crouched low on a branch with Ahmaria crouched close to him.
They waited for the other Windriders to arrive with their gryphons. Their
plan simple, Ahmaria and himself would stay on the ground, while the others
used their bows from the skies. Hilcaia was ready for battle.

At last, the signal. Hilcaia leaps from the tree and darts silently into the
camp. Ahmaria curses softly and follows after him. They move like silent
death, five or more goblins dead before the others even realize they're
under attack. The moment an alarm rises, the windriders swoop down, raining
arrows on the goblins. Together Hilcaia and Ahmaria fight, not as two, but
as one. Where one is open, the other protects. The Windriders make another
swoop, their gyphons crying out in the night air. A goblin archer draws an
arrow, pointed at Ahmaria's back. Hilcaia grunts, heaving his sword at the
goblin and in the same motion tackling her to the ground.

The last of the goblins fell from a third swoop of the Gryphon riders.
Hilcaia and Ahmaria roll across the ground from the force of his tackle and
end up with him on his back and her straddled him. He grins as he glances
down the front of her shirt. "Nice view." He mutters, bringing a slight
blush to her cheeks. The other Windriders had landed and one of them walks
up to the two, coughing gently. "Uh, Wing Commander, the area is
Secured..what are your orders?" Hilcaia starts to laugh as Ahmaria blush
brightens and she climbs up off him. 

Author:    Hilcaia        
Date:      Mon Dec 23 17:15:05 2013
Subject     Something is Brewing.

He had lost track of how long it had been since he had spoke to another Elf or Human or anyone for that matter. Hilcaia had roamed the forests of both Qualinesti and Silvanesti for months, protecting the land and the animals as he could, avoiding contact with both of his cousins or anyone else. He carried what he needed on his back, always on the move. Never stayed in one place. There was nothing to protect from, but he could not go home and would not stay in one place. His only compainion was a large war dog that he had found near death and nursed back to health. But that is the way he wanted it. He didnt like people, they complicated things. And so he roamed, he and his faithful hound, that is until he was on the northern skirts of the Silvanesti forests and he noticed an influx of animals moving south, as if running from something. Only one thing could make the animals act this way. There was war comming, The animals could feel it. Growing under his breath and looks toward the north, cursing the fact he was stuck here.

The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD

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