An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Jendaron.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 65. You change? 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 gorgious hardback on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Jendaron' scribed in glowing brown ink.

Author:  Jendaron
Date    Mon Apr 22 16:39:13 2002


Subject  The Summoning



A frail looking black robed mage sat in his study. He read and
read. Books of
Necromancy and Conjuring, books with a blueish hue. These were my
books, given
to him by Trekos. This was the begining.

I died 113 years ago to the hands of Khyldes and Terlyn, Red
Robes of the
Conclave. I betreyed their order and joined the dark one,
Nuitari. I had
become powerful in the time i had been upon Krynn.

I  died on a summer night, before the halls of the Tower of
Wayereth. I lay
there in a slump of Red and Black. The two colors that had caused
all the
concern.

The mage continued to pour himself into the books. He read as is
possessed by
a demon.

A draconian entered his room. Before he could speak the mage fell
in a pile of
black. When he arose Jendaron stood in his stead. The draconian
spoke of
illusions and tricks, he did not know the truth. Part of me had
been summoned.

I remained, in pergatory in the Abyss for over 100 years.
Hidden... Forgotten.
The mage, who read from my books, reactivated my powers. He
called me from the
Abyss. I inhabitied his body with my spirit for the time.

The mage died protecting a member of his order to a Knight of
Takhisis. He
fell in a slump and my spirit was released to inhabit the body of
another.

I chose the newborn child of a human couple. I entered into his
body, this
time allowing it to be my own.

The mage was my grandson, Buesephelus. I am the mage Jendaron. We
carry the
Mer-Kel bloodline.

I have returned to the face of Krynn. Donning the Robes of Black,
I bide my
time until my untapped power is released.

Krynn shall see a darkness that it has never before known.


Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Thu Sep  7 00:11:35 2006
Subject  A Ritual Sacrifice.

The young messenger traveled far and wide, in search of the
person his
assignment was to be delivered to.  The mage, Jendaron, of the
black robes.
Word had it that he had been missing for several days, and this
particular
messanger had search through Palanthas, New Thalos, Gerighelm,
Vingaard,
and the High Clerist area.

After an exhausting week, the messanger nearly gave up, when he
made one
last stop, the principality of Thelgaard.  As he traveled toward
the town,
he noticed an acrid odor.  The smell of burnt flesh and battle.

As the messenger went further into town, towards the castle of
Thelgaard,
he noticed the town was completely silent, and completely empty. 
As he
walked down the road, he man noticed that each door in the town
was closed,
the windows were shut, and all lanterns were extinguished.  This
was odd,
considering the fact it was early evening, and had turned dark
nearly
minutes ago.

As the man entered the keep, and headed towards the throne room,
he found a
ghastly site.  A true abomonation, that would cause even the gods
to
cringe.  Spears, used by the knights of Solamnia had been
inverted, and
forced into the ground by an inhuman force leaving the spiked
ends facing
upwards.  The Lord of Thelgaard was atop those spikes, each limb
held by
one speak, as well as one through his stomach and another through
his
groin.  This however was not the fearsome part, for the Lord of
Thelgaard
had been disemboweled.  His stomach was sliced open, skin hanging
from the
sides as blood dripped down.  His eye following the blood, saw
what lay
below.  Each of the Lord of Thelgaard's organs had been left
sitting below
him.  Stomach, lungs, heart and liver.

The sight of this instantly made the messenger vomit and run from
the scene
of this ghastly horror.  Running in and out of each house, the
scene was
the same.  The man was killed and hung upside down by a hook in
the
ceiling. The wife was found nude and bloody, beaten to death
obviously. 
And any children, lay fast asleep in their beds by magical
spells, left
alive only to be forced to see the dead parents that lie in the
main rooms.

Unsure of what to do, or where to head, the messenger left back
outside of
town.  He overheard breathing as he passed by a temple of
Paladine, hard
breathing, troubled and sounding as though it was gurgled, like
blood in
the throat. As he entered the temple, the man was shocked to find
something
worse than the Lord's death scene.  A cleric of Paladine had been
placed
upon a crucifix, tied up to it with the white robes of the good
clerics who
inhabit the town.  The man had been left underneath flame
apparently, he
had been burned severely.  His eyes, a type of liquid good,
nearly oozing
out of the sockets.

The man walked up to the cleric, tears streaming down his face.
The cleric
moved ever so slightly, though the messanger believed it to be a
hallucination.  Speaking only to himself and not expecting an
answer, the
messanger asked himself "Who could do a thing such as this?"  The
cleric
opened what was left of his charred eyeleds and let out a final
gurgle.  He
managed to sputter the word "Jendaron," from his blackened lips. 
A
horrible gasp, and a small spasm was all that remained of the
cleric.

The messenger quickly exited the town, and headed north for
Palanthas,
where he could contact the knights of Solamnia and the
countryside's guard
to help clean up the town.  No one has seen Jendaron since two
days before
this incident, and no one knows of the message this man had for
him. 
Though the messanger wondered to himself, perhaps Jendaron
already knew the
contents of the message, the question it contained.  And perhaps
the world
had seen its answer.  


Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Thu Sep  7 16:10:47 2006
Subject  The Howl of a Wolf

No one had seen him in days, his bed remain perfectly made.  The
Archmages
had searched for him, using powers of scrye and gate, but each
time failing
to reach him.  They knew not where he was or whether he was safe.
 Inside
his room, tucked deep away in the basements of the Tower of
Wayreth, a
mystery began to unfold.  Jendaron's room is plain, non-descript,
you would
not be able to discern his room from any initiate or apprentice,
though he
had recently become a Master.  The door swung open as the
Archmage Ralmus
entered the room.  Finding it empty, hoping to find Jendaron,
Ralmus was
dismayed to see the nearly abandoned looking quarters.  "Where
the hell
could he be, rumor has it he went mad in Thelgaard and apparently
he's
wanted by Takhisis' knights for assault on one of their Lily
Knights as
"Where the hell could he be, rumor has it he went mad in
Thelgaard and
apparently he's wanted by Takhisis' knights for assault on one of
their
Lily Knights as well," Ralmus muttered the words not knowing he
even spoke.
 At that exact same moment, Jendaron was in Neraka.  Having first
stopped
in Palanthas, he managed to nearly murder a Lily Knight of
Takhisis before
he traveled off, disappearing into a rift to the unknown.  That
rift, which
no one else saw but the injured knight, led directly to Neraka,
the city of
evil and former home base of the Knights of Takhisis and her
Dragonarmies.


Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Sat Sep 23 20:03:59 2006
Subject  Culmination of a Purpose

"Welcome to the jail of the conclave of mages, renegade."
Jendaron
spoke in a cynical manner.

This sentance would be spoken three more times on this day before
the sun would set upon Krynn. The black robed mage had used his 
powerful charming magic and acts of persuasion to lure the
renegades
into trusting him. The three mages, Kanon, Xithious and Arikaih
all 
were members of the Knights of Takhisis, an order infamous for 
conflict with the Wizards of High Sorcery. 

"Each of you will be tried before the Wizard of High Sorcery,
with
members of each order present, there you will either be punished
for 
you renegade crimes, or may opt to leave your renegade ways and
join
the Order of High Sorcery under the laws of arcane magic"
Jendaron 
looked deeply into the eyes of each mage, hoping to see perhaps 
a change from the ways of a renegade.

The trial ensued and the mages remained unwilling to conform to
the
laws of the arcane, therefore each was punished accordingly and 
released into the Forest of Wayreth, to wander aimlessly and die
to the horrible monsters that call that place home.

"You are now to be known as Archmage, second in charge of the 
Black Robed Wizards of High Sorcery," Ralmus spoke with a raspy
voice.

The promotion was a result of the capture of the renegades, even 
though they were unable to be converted to members of this
conclave
of mages. Jendaron now understood his powers and also understood 
his goal. He wanted to destroy the Knights of Takhisis, and end
the
renegades and their harbor once and for all.

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Sat Sep 23 20:26:26 2006
Subject  The Search

The black robed man arrived in Tarsis in the late hours of the
night on
the Day of Soldai, the 2nd day of the month H'rarmont.  The year
was 386 and
the man had arrived to realize a vision brought about long ago. 
The city of
Tarsis had once been the place of great plans, which had never
been executed
and lay in wait since the Time of Light in the Age of Dreams. 
Dreams that
lie awaiting fulfillment and realization.  Jendaron arrived in a
small Inn,
and rapped quietly on the door hoping to gain entrance and
shelter for the
evening.  A man huddled in a wool cloak opened the door quickly
and ushered
Jendaron inside.  After a small conversation and the passing of a
silver
coin, Jendaron headed to a small room with a cot and a window for
the
evening.  The light of the two moons glowed brightly in the sky,
illuminating the room and dissatisfying the archmage.  With a
quick thought,
the mage opened his eyes widely and the darkness of the black
moon flooded
inside of the room, swallowing the red and white light in the
darkness.  In
the morning Jendaron headed towards the north gate of Tarsis,
passing
unbeknownst to the guards, a testament to his ability to blend
in. 
Northwest of the town, through a deep forest before the beginings
of
Southgate, there was a plot of land unseen by human eyes for
nearly a
thousand years.  This was the secret location of the planned
Seventh Tower
of High Sorcery, the tower of Tarsis.  The plans fell through in
the Age of
Dreams and the tower laid, forgotten and asleep, beneath the
sandy ground
deep within a forest.  This cursed forest was known as the Forest
of
Ith'Litar, though its name had never been spoken by any living
man.  The way
was discovered by Jendaron when a journey brought him to an
ancient text
which refered to the buried tower.  This book gave him not only
the
directions, but also instructions on how to revive a ruined or
abandoned
tower.  In this case however, this would be the birth of a tower,
for the
Tower of Tarsis had never once risen.  Protecting Ith'Litar's
dark forest
are Aeterna trees, which are known for their peculiar
charectoristics.  The
trees grow only in the light of the moons of Krynn, and give off
a strange
fragrant odor, known to cause extreme sleepiness in the
feebleminded and
great confusion in the dangerous and unwanted.  The trees were
also an
attractor of lightning, causing a rainstorm to arrive almost
hourly each
night, though the skies above Tarsis would remain calm.  Anyone
seeking
entrance without the want of this tower's master, would not only
face the
odor released by the tree itself, but also the lightning and
sound barraging
them.  Jendaron stood before the edge of this forest, on sandy
ground where
the tower lied buried beneath.  The work would begin to raise
this tower,
and Jendaron would be the master of this tower, for it would play
a pivotal
role in his plans for the Knights of Takhisis.  Weeks turn to
days, days
turn to hours, and hours turn to moments as Jendaron awaits the
tower's rise
from the depths of sand and stone.  

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Thu Jun 19 21:02:18 2008
Subject     Life of an Archmage

A few short weeks after leading a meeting of the Wizards of High
Sorcery,
the High Archmage set out to complete his next task. Something to
possibly
change the face of Krynn, yet again. Hours and hours of work went
into each
assignment, as slowly but surely mage after mage. Young and weak
as well as
powerful and wise mages offered their services in the quest to
correct the
... rift. 

Each assignment was given out based upon both rank and
qualification,
Jendaron certainly didn't want to send any poor mage to his or
her death,
but neither did he want to bore the powerful ones with menial
tasks. Quickly
he wrote each scroll in the language of the wizards, so that if
they had
fallen into the hands of another they would be indecipherable. 

Hours and hours passed through the night as an entire candle
burned away.
The archmage looked up from his work and though to himself
'Surely this is
worth the effort, not only does Nuitari guide me in these works,
but all the
moons.' He reached into the desk his sat before and retrieved
another
aromatic candle, blessed with the shavings of a mogwort's scale.
It relaxed
him from the tensions of his duties as well as cleared his
problematic
sinuses. 

As he spoke a quick word of summon a black imp appeared in his
quarters,
'Yessssss master?' 'These are to go to the different mages
of the Conclave
whose names are etched onto the respective scroll, this is of
utmost
important.' The archmage nodded quietly at the creature and
handed him a
small satchel filled with 12 scrolls. It walked silently out the
room and
begun its task of doling out the assignments. 

'There is a rift in our powers, I believe it to be caused by a
renegade
uprising in the northern lands.' The mages, young and old
looked on as
Jendaron spoke of the alteration in the powers of magic he had
felt, that he
believed to be caused by either a band of powerful renegades or a
mage from
another plane of existance draining the powers of the moons.
'It is not the
duty of a Conclave mage, but a nescessity for our survival. We
must become
more powerful.' 

Jendaron left the fruition of his plans unknown to many of the
mages, only a
select few, those who had chosen to participate in the
assignments, as to
his full intentions. The Conclave of Mages would indeed be
powerful again,
and Jendaron would have his hand in it for certain. 

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Thu Jun 19 21:14:18 2008
Subject     Life of an Archmage II

Jendaron thought back to years ago, a time in the High Clerists
Tower.... 

Arcs of lightning unleashed from the Taskmage's fingers,
penetrating the
chest of the local guards who screamed horrible cries of pain as
they lie
shaking in pain upon the ground. 'Why do you do this to us you
horrible
wizard!' the only remaining guard screamed as he fell to his
knees praying
to some pitiful holy entity. 

Jendaron's only response to the man's cries for mercy was a bit
of pitch
rolled in his fingers and tossed in the man's direction. The
small black
ball quickly turned to a red ball of flame. The man's eyes glowed
red as the
ball approached and smashed into his face. The eyes that glowed
red now
boiled and exploded as the fireball torched his face. 

'I do this in Nuitari's name, his curse be upon you!'

Jendaron slowly stood up from his desk in the quarters of the
High Archmage.
Shaking his head he constantly had flashbacks of the hundreds of
murders he
had comminted over the 45 years of his life. In his younger days
he had
understood less the true power of Nuitari's blessing and instead
plagued the
land with a curse of violence. Only upon achieving the rank of
archmage did
entrance to the shrine of Nuitari give him the enlightenment he
needed to
control the violence, and the magic, to his own whims instead of
his lords.


Quickly the high archmage left the tower of the black robe mages
and begun a
long and arduous walk to lands far away. His mission was secret,
and unknown
to all but a fellow archmage, Leodas. His search for an ancient
spellbook
would bring him several places throughout the lands of Abanasia,
including
the islands far north of Krynn. Perhaps in these lands would he
find access
to the ancient and powerful spells he saught to grasp in his own
mind. 

His travels first brought him deep into the ruins of Xak Khalan,
where he
found himself stalking the largest green dragon he had ever seen.
A cloud of
green mist that choked all but the most powerful of lungs
surrounded a
towering form that must stand over fifty feet tall. The pitiful
looking by
comparison six foot man stood trembling slightly before this
massive being,
but spoke a word of prayer to Nuitari and his eyes began turn a
darker
color. The whites of his eyes began to glow a grey color as his
iris' glowed
a midnight black. The blessing of Nuitari was upon him. 

The battle between dragon and mage would be an epic one indeed. 

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Thu Jun 19 21:25:53 2008
Subject     Life of an Archmage III

The dragon had been a worthy opponent, Jendaron's robes were torn
slightly on the right side and his bicep's tendon had been torn,
leaving his
main hand useless for all except for magic. The dragon on the
other hand lay
dead before him, his powerful draconian magic had proven to be
quite alot
for the archmage, yet still he had prevailed again. At this point
he wasn't
quite sure what had kept him alive, the white aura of protection
he had
focused upon himself, or the blessing of Nuitari that thwarted
the poisons
that certainly would have killed him given his condition. 

The man quickly did what he needed with the dragon, disecting his
corpse to
retrieve his liver, stomach and heart, as well as skinning his
hide from the
most prized part of his body, his chest. He removed the eyes, the
teeth and
the tongue of the dragon, speaking words of magic to create
containers of
appropriate size and then shrinking them to fit into his pocuhes.
Finally he
removed the tail of the dragon, below the spike, where it could
be brewed
into something useful. 

All this work would prove to be worthwhile, as the archmage rode
a small
black horse back from the ruins through the mists of a dark
swamp. Trodding
slowly through the mists and into the forest, the mage left the
horse for
the wild and returned to the tower of High Sorcery at Wayereth. 

Jendaron was stopped by multiple mages on the way to his
quarters, each time
he handled them with more and more frustration as his arm began
to throb
with pain. 'Certainly the white robes have mages that can
answer your
questions about herbal lore? Why must you stop me with things you
can find
in the library apprentice mage!' Jendaron snapped at the white
robe
apprentice, and then quickly sneered a word of apology and
quickly and
silently headed for his quarters. 

Unloaded his pouches into a chest that he protected with ancient
magic,
Jendaron his upper body from his robes and gasped as he saw a
large piece of
flesh hanging from his right arm, his bicep muscle. No cleric
would ever
offer healing services to the most feared and hated black robe on
Krynn,
therefore the mage had snuck once into the halls of the Holy
Order clerics
and stolen scrolls from them. Though they had jailed him he had
the
opportunity to at least learn about how the body worked more than
his
previous knowledge. 

Jendaron stitched the flesh back into place but knew his arm
would never
work properly again. Combat would certainly prove to be a
challenge indeed.
Though Jendaron knew, if he could get ahold of the magic he
saught, combat
would prove to be unescessary. 

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Thu Jun 19 23:34:02 2008
Subject     Life of an Archmage IV

'Do you think we would find anything of use? Clearly there is
valuable
information to find but how to bring it back is the question.',
the black
robed figure spoke with a quick tongue to the red robed high
archmage. 'You
need a tower master to open a portal to the past, and that means
you need my
help.' Reluctantly the black robe nodded his head and bowed
before his
superior. Though the trip would not be his own, he would still
travel with
the Head of the Conclave through a chronomancy portal. 

Thinking to himself, Jendaron went over in his head what Lelthas
had said
they would need for the journey. Several of the ingredient he
already had
procured from either the work of other mages, or his own
collecting. Each of
these ingredients would be used be the two high archmages in
their work.
Jendaron then traveled by foot to Solace, seeking out the
assistance of
Frelquen, a black robed elf who served the mages of the conclave
well with
his spying eyes. A short distance after begining his journey, he
arrived at
his destination and met with the long eared elf. 

This meeting proved to be worthwhile, as Jendaron discovered the
location of
a cleric of the dark arts who would be able to help him further
with the
injury to his arm that had become more and more painful. Unable
to use
anything but a torch and his magic, Jendaron trodded through the
forest just
outside of Solace and found the entrance to a small cave the elf
had
described to him. Within, he met with a fellow he could hardly
describe he
was so hideous, but the man proved to be of great assistance to
Jendaron. 

The two exchanged services, the cleric providing healing to the
mage, the
mage enchanting a few choice items of the cleric's and providing
him with a
magical ring of protection. Jendaron would have to rest the arm
for several
weeks before he would be able to use a staff properly, though he
had begun
working with his left hand and a magical floating light, but this
proved a
challenge indeed. 

Jendaron headed back to the tower to rest his damaged arm and
plan his next
move. 

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Tue Jun 24 12:56:09 2008
Subject     Renegades' Blood I

A red robed man sits at a table in 'The Roaming Swindler'
Inn, within the
walls of Caergoth. He sips a glass of blood red wine and watches
the door,
waiting. A black robed man slowly walks towards 'The Roaming
Swindler', but
stops and speaks a few words of magic, obscuring his alignment
and altering
his appearance to that of a common traveller. 

An average looking man opens the door to the Inn and takes in the
scene.
Couples and families are rare in this Inn and dozens of eyes turn
quickly to
him. The place turns silent for a moment as the crowd judges him,
and just
as quickly as it stopped, the crowd again started talking amongst
themselves
and return to the cheerful and jubulent drunk mood. The mage's
spell had
been successful, he had not drawn the unnescesary attention his
robes would
certainly receive. He had also spotted the blood red robes of his
Conclavian
brother and slowly began to approach the table. 

'I have come as you have requested, Archmage Leodas, ' in a
muffled whisper
the man speaks, Leodas able to see him for who he is through his
enchantments. 'Much appreciated Jendaron, you know the
reason?' the red
robed man spoke as he slowly swirls his wine before sipping it.
'Hmm, I have
a general idea. Same story as always isn't it?' almost
mockingly of the
situation, Jendaron gets a slight sneer on his face at his own
thoughts. The
exchange continued for several more minutes as Leodas explained
to Jendaron
the depths of his plans, how he had discovered a warehouse of
stolen
artifacts and suspected renegades to be the culprits. Leodas also
informed
Jendaron that he had setup several powerful traps inside the
warehouse as
well as an enchantment of alarming, which would allow him to know
when the
warehouse had been entered. 

'The other reason was I did not intend to stay here long after
you'd arrive
if you did come. I felt my alarm trap release not long ago, '
Leodas looked
seriously at the High Archmage. 'Let us go then, the matters
are surely
pressing are they not?, ' Jendaron and Leodas slowly stand and
head towards
the exit of the Inn. 

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Tue Jun 24 13:18:40 2008
Subject     Renegades Blood II

'It could be a rat or something benign. I happen to believe my
spell was
cast well enough to alert me only to the presence of a sentient
being, '
Leodas commented to Jendaron. 'I'd certainly hope so. Either
way you've got
me interested in it myself.' At this point Jendaron spoke a
single magical
word and faded from existance, invisible. Leodas on the other
hand used a
rarer cantrip, transforming his figure to that of a middle aged
man, then a
librarian, and finally a small child. 

An average looking man is also walking towards the warehouse,
though he is
much closer. He walks the familiar alleyways and heads slowly
towards the
warehouse, lost in thought. The man opens the door and feels a
slight
pressure at the base of his skull. 'Some sort of ward? Andros
most likely,
paranoid as always about his cache.' The man shouts into the
warehouse
'Andros, it's me.' The man closes the warehouse door tightly
behind himself
and walks back towards the makeshift office set up in the back.
'They must
have left already. Impatient as always, though the deal will be
done quicker
for it I suppose, ' a slight crackle catches his attention and
thin stream
of jagged light blasts across the room causing his hair to stand
on end in
its wake. The bolt had already passed, missing him narrowly, but
he still
dives to the ground with a curse. 'Damnit! Andros is very
paranoid if he set
offensive spells.' The man slowly begins to search the area for
anymore ...
protective... spells and finds none. Though never one to believe
what he
sees, the man continues to search slowly as he stands and
continues to the
office. 

The invisible black robe and the constantly altering red robe
arrive at the
entrance to the warehouse. 'Several of my offensive traps have
been tripped,
as well as the alarm. Whoever is inside is likely near death.
With a tap of
his staff upon the door, it explodes open as Leodas peers inside.
Jendaron
moves silently and swiftly, listening as Leodas says a quick word
of
protection creation a magical aura around himself and the black
robe.
'Perhaps this is what you saught?' Jendaron nodded over to
the figure of a
man standing nervously on the other side of the warehouse. Leodas
ends his
casting and returns to the form of the maroon robed mage. 

The man across the warehouse had thoughts traveling faster than
he could
contemplate, but when the red robe faded into existance his worst
fears and
paranoia came to fruition. Thinking back to Palanthas the man,
Orryn, tried
to figure out when he had been tracked. Did the conclave mage in
that town
finally track him down? Orryn eyes the red robe with horror as
the greatest
fear of his life unfolds before him. Conclave has found him. 

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Tue Jun 24 13:35:58 2008
Subject     Renegades' Blood III

'Renegade? I'm afraid you are sorely mistaken sir, ' the man
abandons his
thoughts of magic and attempts instead to trick the red robe,
'I came here
looking for a friend of mine.' 'Does he take us for fools?'
The unseen
figure of Jendaron whispers quietly to Leodas and slowly begins
to approach
invisibly towards Orryn. 'Perhaps you have seen him, dwarf?
Dark black
beard..., 'Orryn tries to edge away from the mage while
appearing
unconcerned. 'Your friends are renegades, then. You choose to
associate with
them.' Leodas reaches his hand into a spell pouch, 'I leave
you one further
choice. Submit to the Conclave or die. 

The door leading to the back of the office slams shut as Jendaron
presses
against it closing off Orryn's alternate exit. With a snarl he
abandons his
act and begins a familiar chant. If Orryn could ensnare the
mage's mind he
might still walk out of this warehouse. Leodas speaks seemingly
to himself
'It appears he chooses death.' The smile again grows on his
face, full of
confidence in his charm spell. 'Friend, truly, there has been a
mistake
here. I am no renegade and no friend of such. Let me leave and I
will never
bother you again.' Orryn begins to walk towards the charmed
mage to pass
him. 

'Hold it right there. The unseen mage speaks from the doorway
in the back of
the warehouse. Orryn turns to the red robe, concerned but sees
his still
dazed appearence. 'What did you say friend?' Leodas shakes
his head, 'Not
me, him.' All he does is grin and point as the black robed High
Archmage
slowly fades back into reality from the fabric of magic. Jendaron
slowly
says, 'You've attracted alot of attention for yourself young
man, we've
tracked you and the entire group of renegades to Caergoth and now
you are
going to die. The black robe looks displeasingly at Orryn. 

Leodas grabs Orryns shoulder reassuringly. 'I'll handle this,
friend. Leodas
then shoves the Orryn between himself and Jendaron. 'Understand
that there
is no escape from this. Jendaron mockingly speaks to Orryn,
'Resistance will
only result in your death, you see red robes are much more ...
diplomatic in
their approach to renegades than my order.' 

The exchange continues back and forth and ends with Leodas
throwing a pinch
of white sand towards Orryn face and him slumping to the ground
in a magical
slumber. Jendaron returns to invisibility as Leodas begins to
prepare a
portal to the Tower of Wayereth. At that very moment, the door
opens again
as Andros, and several other renegades enter into the warehouse
shocked to
discover the scene before them. 

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Mon Apr 20 23:25:03 2009
Subject     Dark Winds

Winds blow with a loud whistle through the trees of the dark
valley. A
lone man draped in black robes stands in the midst of the
maelstrom of
winds. A large staff with a green glowing crystal atop it is the
only light
that reveals the man. The winds begin to turn a dark color as the
air itself
dissolves into smoke, fire and anger. 

To be continued

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Thu Jun 11 19:51:34 2009
Subject     a story

I woke up one day, and I was like woah its 6am.
I went back to sleep.
-fin

Author:    Jendaron       
Date:      Fri Apr 16 03:24:48 2010
Subject     Jendaron's Pro-Tips! Lesson #1

Introducing Jendaron's new Ansalon PRO-TIPS!
Become l33t, pwn your opponents, make them all lolz at your
glory!
Tip #1 - If you can't swim, stay out of the water!

More tips coming! Stay tuned!!

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 890 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'