The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Kael.

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 metal bound tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kael' scribed in purple ink.


Author:             Kael
Date    Fri Oct 14 22:06:35 2005
Subject  To our aggressors.


To our would-be aggressors,

Our Lordcity of Kalaman would like to refute the Knights of
Takhisis' proposal as enunciated by Baroness Ayasana uth
Matar.  This note will serve as a stern warning that any 
Knight bearing the symbols of Takhisis spotted by the 
guardsmen of Kalaman will be thus imprisoned or slain if 
he/she administers any form of resistance.  The Knighthood of 
Solamnia will never bow to a request for surrender by any 
entity.  Let our aggressors beware. 

Est Sularus oth Mithas, 
Brother to brother, yours in life and death.

Lord Kael of House Encuintras,
for the Order of the Sword,
Knighthood of Solamnia.



Author:             Kael
Date        Wed Oct 19 07:20:36 2005
Subject  War plans


 Greetings my fellow brethren, 


I shall attempt to make this note as concise as possible.  With the
situation in the Lordcity of Kalaman not improving by any measure, I have
decided to dispatch two fleets of Knights from the city of Palanthas to
assist in the battle there.  Since this idea was the brainchild of Sir
Aliran Detrius, I shall grant him the honour of commanding the fleets.  Due
to Sir Aliran's ties with the Holy Order of the Stars, I believe that
clerical assistance from our allies will undoubtedly be rendered.  

I have also sent a messenger to the city of Kalaman to inform them of our
plans.  The messenger would access the city through the underground water
tunnels in order to avoid detection by enemy troops.  He also bears the
intricacies of our plans to evacuate the citizens via the tunnel should the
city be doomed to fall.  With that, I have also gave my promise to the
people of Kalaman that we would do our utmost to recover the city and return
them to their rightful residence should the city fall.  

Apart from a platoon of troops which would be placed near the exit of the
underground tunnel to assist the people of Kalaman in their relocation, no
more resources should be given to the battle in Kalaman unless a need
arises.  The raison de'tre for this is that we shall dedicate the bulk of
our strength to the invasion of the city of Lemish.  Having surrounded the
city of Kalaman with four armies and having supported and supplied them for
quite some time now, the Knights of Takhisis are likely to have exhausted
much of their resources towards that cause.  With this in mind, I think it
would be prudent to advance upon Lemish while our enemies still have their
resources distributed rather unevenly across the land.  I propose to deploy
three batallions of Knights to Lemish, with Lord Elarik uth Navar
commanding.  I speak only for the Sword Order, for Lord Galadir Fortescue
will decide on which Crown Knight(s) would be involved in the co-commanding
of this offensive.  If no Crown Knight of higher rank is appointed to the
offensive, Lord Elarik uth Navar will be the overall-in-command.  

To my knowledge, Lord Galadir will also be attending to the matters at
Vingaard Keep.  I thus find it proper that the Order of the Sword should
render its assistance to him.  I thereby appoint Sir Nathaniel Swordall to
be seconded to Lord Galadir for the period of three months.  

Seeing how there is no Lord Knight as yet in the Order of the Rose, I would
like to invite Lady Melody to make a choice as to which front she would
prefer to grace.  Her wisdom and experience would surely be one that is
sorely needed.  

Last but not least, I extend my apology to all of you that I cannot as yet
join you at the frontline due to my duties in planning the war movements. 
My priority has always been to lend my sword to you, my brothers-in-arms,
and I will do so at first opportunity after discharging my duties as High
Clerist.  May my prayers be with you all even if my physical presence is
not.  

Est Sularus oth Mithas.
 
Lord Kael of House Encuintras,
High Clerist,
Order of the Sword.

Author:             Kael
Date    Fri Oct 21 04:14:26 2005
Subject  An Unexpected Guest

The Solamnic knight pored over a spread-out map of the continent of 
Ansalon, his face pensive in thought.  There has been much development in 
the past few weeks - word getting around that the city of Kalaman was 
supposedly as good as lost; the High King of Thorbadin apparently defeated 
by a goblin.  What was truth and what was rumour, no one really knew.  But 
all the knight could do was to believe them and make his plans.  It was 
little wonder then that when a squire of the Solamnic garrison in Palanthas 
hastily rapped on the oaken doors of Lord Kael Encuintras' chambers, the 
middle-aged knight responded with irritation at losing his train of thought. 
 
 
 
"What is it, young Vinius?  I instructed for you not to enter unless 
emergency requires, did I not?"   
 
At this chiding, the squire looked to the outside of the chambers awkwardly, 
as if not really knowing how to respond.  Then he said, "My Lord, there is 
an..  An elf at the gates.  He purports to be a warrior of the wild and 
mentioned a war with goblins.  He also claims he has some important 
information for you from his leader, my Lord."   
 
The already-defined lines upon the forehead of the senior knight creased 
further.  "Bring me to this elf you speak of," he ordered.  The squire bowed 
and duly beckoned his lord to the gates.   
 
------------------- 
 
Lord Kael Encuintras strode out to the gates of the Solamnic garrison in 
Palanthas, accompanied by his squire.  There, he caught the peculiar sight 
of an elven warrior, dressed in simple yet hardy garb.  A young gryphon 
stood irritably by his side, scratching at its fleas, quite obviously tiring 
of the wait.   
 
Kael approached the elf with formality, extending his hand in invitation and 
apologising for the time the elf and his animal spent in waiting.  Yet, the 
elf did not speak, but instead handed the knight a piece of parchment, 
secured by the vines of Zhan.  It read: "We need to meet.  Air Marshal 
Snefru Maleekee of the Wildrunners."   
 
After a moment of ponderence over the significance of the letter, the knight 
assented and bowed once more before the elven warrior.  Beckoning his squire 
to fetch him his parchment and quill, Kael wrote in reply to the Air 
Marshal.  He would ride to meet the leader of the Wildrunners this night, 
for he may very well provide an answer for the many questions he had.   

Author:             Kael
Date    Wed Dec  7 06:02:33 2005
Subject  Impending War

A knight resplendent in the armor of Solamnia stood in the middle of the 
vast plains, taking his place amongst the ranks of the many knights awaiting 
the grand battle.  The towering spires of the city of Kalaman can be seen in 
the distance behind the battalion, silently granting the warriors strength.  
Archers stand upon its bleak walls supporting the valiant fighters on the 
ground, gently, some may say nervously, caressing their well-used 
bowstrings.  All lay still and tranquil, if only for a moment, as the 
adrenaline pumped steadily within their veins.  A slight clearing of the 
misty fog then reveals a faint line on the horizon, what one could only 
deduce to be the formation of soldiers serving the Dark Queen.   
 
The knight on the plains edged in his armor, irritably swiping away a 
persistent grasshopper with a wave of his gloved hand.  Beads of sweat now 
formed freely on his forehead, making the musk and stuffiness of his helm 
that much more abhorrent.  The battle-lust burned deep within his soul, and 
all of his will and swordarm concentrated on the inevitable...  Then the 
horns of war bellowed.  A cloud of dust rose from where the faint line once 
was in the distance, merging with a similar cloud kicked up by the sudden 
charge of the knight and his comrades.  To a mere onlooker, the time before 
actual battle where each side rushes towards the other appears to be a 
negligible commodity.  To a warrior in the fray, that rush appears to be an 
eternity.   
 
And so it was, to the knight on the plains; his legs aching in their greaves 
even before his blade had drawn any blood, his eyes half-blinded by the 
incessant dripping of salty sweat.  He was thus, almost thankful, when the 
two sides collided with devastating fury, sword upon sword, shield upon 
shield.  Overcome by the passion of the moment, the knight slashed out 
furiously at any advancing foe, felling several at one time.  His ears could 
not discern the screams of the dying for they all melded into a confusing 
grey.  His mind was occupied with the continued slashing, parrying, 
thrusting - never mind the ache and pain in the arms.  It would be over 
soon.   
 
So the knight went, slashing, parrying and thrusting; and many a foe fell 
before his might that day.  Soon, the dust cleared and all that could be 
seen were bodies upon bodies, stacked in a gruesome tribute on a land 
gleaming with the blood of the dead.  The knight collapsed then onto the 
soft ground, exhaustion finally overwhelming him.  A smile crossed his face 
even as his body ached, for he knew his deed was done and his rest was 
well-deserved.   
 
Wait, what was this?  What was this dull pain he felt in his lower back?  
The knight whirled around at lightning speed, swordarm at the ready for he 
had been trained for such surprises countless times over.  'Fight me as I 
face you, dishonorable vermin, ' he exclaimed to a figure clad solemnly in 
the emblems of the black lily.  Yet even as he spoke, poison rushed through 
his very being paralysing him.  His sunlight turned slowly but surely to 
darkness as the figure plunged his serrated blade deeply into his torso...  
 
 
 
----------------------------------- 
 
The knight woke up with a start, his eyes pinned on the domed ceiling above 
him.  'It was just a dream, just a dream, ' he repeated to himself.  He 
wiped his forehead gently with his backhand and climbed out of his bed, 
taking with him his sword.  Donning the mantle that only the High Clerist of 
the Knighthood could wear, he stepped out upon the balcony overlooking the 
plains of Kalaman.  The faint line upon the horizon was still there, the 
archers upon the battlements of the city still patrolled.  Heaving a sigh, 
the knight returned to his chambers, patiently waiting for the bugle horns 
which must inevitably sound.   

Author:    Kael           
Date:      Thu Dec 11 18:01:51 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart: A Prelude

A knight resplendent in the armor of Solamnia stood in the middle of the
vast plains, taking his place amongst the ranks of the many knights awaiting
the grand battle. The towering spires of the city of Kalaman can be seen in
the distance behind the battalion, silently granting the warriors strength.
Archers perched upon its bleak walls supporting the valiant fighters on the
ground, gently (some may say nervously) caressing their well-used
bowstrings. All lay still and calm, if only for a moment, as the adrenaline
pumped steadily within their veins. A slight clearing of the misty fog then
reveals a faint line on the horizon, what one could only deduce to be the
formation of soldiers serving the Dark Queen.

The knight on the plains fidgeted in his armor, irritably swiping away a
persistent grasshopper with a wave of his gloved hand. Beads of sweat now
formed freely on his forehead, making the musk and stuffiness of his helm
that much more abhorrent. The bloodlust burned deep within his soul, and all
of his will and swordarm concentrated on the battle at hand. The warhorns
bellowed. A cloud of dust rose in the distance from where the faint line
once, commingling with an equally immense cloud kicked up by the sudden
charge of the knight and his comrades. To an onlooker, the time prior to the
actual battle appears to be a negligible commodity. To a warrior in the
fray, it is an eternity.

And so it was to the knight on the plains. His legs ached in their greaves
long before his blade had drawn any blood, his eyes half-blinded by the
incessant dripping of salty sweat. He was thus almost thankful when the two
sides collided with devastating fury, sword on sword, shield on shield.
Overcome by the passion of the moment, the knight lashed out furiously at
any advancing foe, felling several at one time. His ears could not discern
the screams of the dying for they all melded into a confusing cacophony. His
mind was preoccupied with the never-ceasing parrying and thrusting. Never
mind the ache and pain in the arms -- it would all be over soon, the knight
assured himself. 

So the knight went: slashing, parrying and thrusting. Many a foe fell that
day. Soon, the dust cleared and all that could be seen were bodies upon
bodies, stacked in a gruesome tribute on a land gleaming with the blood of
the dead. The knight collapsed onto the soft ground, exhaustion finally
overwhelming him. A smile crossed his face even as his body burned, for he
knew his deed was done and his rest was well-deserved.

But wait, what was this? What was this dull pain he felt in his lower back?
The knight whirled around at lightning speed, swordarm at the ready for he
had been trained for such contingencies countless times over. "Fight me as I
face you, dishonorable vermin," he exclaimed to a figure clad solemnly in
the emblem of the black lily. Even as he spoke, poison rushed through his
very being, paralysing him. The sunlight turned slowly but surely to
darkness as a serrated knife plunged deep into his torso...

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The knight woke up with a start, his eyes pinned on the domed ceiling above
him. "It was a dream, just a dream," he repeated to himself. He wiped his
forehead with the back of his hand and took leave of his chambers, taking
with him his sword. Donning his armour, he heaved a sigh for the long day
ahead. Little did he know that this day, with the help of a tiny dagger
adorned with a curiously curved handle, would be the one that changes his
life. 

Author:    Kael           
Date:      Thu Dec 11 20:11:59 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart: An Opportunity

The weather sure is hot and humid today. The stuffy breastplate and helm
aren't helping things much either. I walk the end of the patrolling route
out of the Lordcity of Kalaman, one that I have covered 14 times today since
the dawn broke and one that I have traversed countless times these past few
months.

"Lorcan, mind covering for me while I take a short break?" I tapped on the
hollow helm of a lazy squire sprawled on a cot in the eastern guardhouse to
draw his attention. He mumbled something inaudibly before acceding to my
request. Ah, the benefits of being a senior knight.

I strolled leisurely to the woods east of the city, meaning to catch a quick
breath of fresh air. Being in the city stifled my senses - the characterless
spired buildings and bustling of commerce all added to the dreariness of the
dead heat. Leaning on the curvaceous roots of a solid oak tree, I finally
found my solace, even if just for a while. The chirping of the birds and the
tranquility of the forest calmed my mind. If only I could be here forever.

"Beware the eastern gate... buregghh grrimm toreak. Nasty Solamnics there,"
a deep guttural voice carried itself through the quiet air. Eh, goblins? I
peeked past the large trunk of the oak tree and spotted a minotaur clad in
the trappings of a black dragonarmy warrior in conference with two wiry
goblins. Not wanting to draw their attention quite so quickly, I drew my
sword from its sheath in in the gentlest way I could. Why were they here?

"Do not stir the Solamnics from their beauty sleep. We are here for the
artifact and nothing else," the minotaur warrior bellowed. The goblins
nodded their disproportionate heads in obedient acquiescence. The minotaur
issued a field signal to advance with a sharp cocking of his wrist and the
goblins crept on after him. I followed a tree behind. So, it is an artifact
that the Dragonarmy seeks. Interesting, I looked on as the three minions of
evil scrouged the forest, burying their clawed feet and hooves into the
muddied ground in search for the artifact. I bidded my time and once it was
certain that their attention was all but diverted to their exploration, I
emerged from the obscurity of an adjacent tree trunk. Uttering a cry to
Kiri-Jolith, I sliced the heads of the goblins cleanly off their scaled
shoulders and pressed the pointed end of my blade uncomfortably close
against the throat of the startled minotaur.

"Tell me what it is you seek. Speak, or I will slit your throat wide open."
The blade drew a drop of fresh blood. The minotaur did not answer. A
maniacal grin crossed his face and he promptly impaled himself on my blade.
I frowned at the bovine blood that splattered all over my armour. I'll never
be able to wash this off. Worse still, I have nothing in exchange for it.
Even as those thoughts ran rapidly through my mind, the periphery of my
vision caught a small sheet of parchment slip from the stiff grasp of the
slain minotaur. Grabbing the parchment as excitedly as a newborn, I peered
intently at its contents.

A picture. A shining black blade. A strangely curved handle. Wait a minute,
this was the very dagger that pierced me in my dream. I can still feel the
cold of the blade on my back. What could this portend?

Then, I smiled to myself. An opportunity to prove a knight's worth. 

Author:    Kael           
Date:      Thu Dec 11 21:42:16 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart: The Discovery and the Blade

The knight returned to the place within his dream. Just out of the north
gate of Kalaman was where he met his untimely demise. This time, the faint
line of the enemy in the distance no longer existed. There were no bodies
gruesomely piled and no death in sight. Could he really find what he sought
here? The knight swept his steel sabatons close to the ground in an arc to
part the thickening grass. The field was simply too vast to comb this way.

He turned to face the city to his back and was almost blinded by the
oncoming rays of the sun. The distance from the gates seemed to be about
right -- if his memory serves, the guards on the ramparts did appear that
small from where he lay in his dream. The knight stared at the ground for an
eternity, searching relentlessly for a visual clue. But there were none.
Lifting the visor from his helm and wiping his sweat for the umpteenth time
today, the knight chuckled and chastised himself for having been led by his
own subconscious mind into this fool's errand. He flung the parchment he had
earlier retrieved from the Dragonarmy minotaur into the wind.

A gust blew. The knight's eyes followed the flapping parchment as it
floated, light as a feather, to a pre-ordained spot in the grass. Parting
the grass obscuring the parchment, this time with a gloved hand, the knight
caught a glint of metal against the shining sun. His hands closed around the
comfortably curved handle of a fine knife. He found it! Imagine what his
superiors would say when he returned to the barracks with this gem -- an
artifact lost by the Dragonarmies and discovered by a Knight of the Crown.
Wars have been won and lost by such fortuitousness.

The blade was just the right length and exactly balanced, making the
knight's previous weapon pale in comparison. It was almost as if it were
made solely for him. The knight looked up and his short-lived glee turned
quickly to despair. A creature the size of an ogre and bearing the scales of
a red dragon as skin towered over him. What sorcery is this? In the
distance, the knight could once again see the formation of the minions of
evil obliterating the horizon. The knight summoned up what little courage
and vigour he had left. He was not about to die there. He wondered for a
moment why the archers in the city had forsaken him, but he rapidly
refocussed on the battle at hand. He was not alone. The fine knife imbued
him with a magical strength he had never experienced before and the power
exited with hellish fury from his swordarm. A quick thrust rendered the
gargantuan beast flailing in its death throes, covered in electrical flames.
The knight was pleased with his new find and decided to beat a hasty retreat
in the face of the stiffer opposition that was to come. A dust cloud rose
once again in the distance.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

A farmer, by the name of Theodore, lay on the ground that day. The corpse
was just out the north gate of Kalaman, the farmer's chest pierced by a
single stab wound and his body burnt almost beyond recognition. The archers
on the towers had miraculously missed any altercation that occured and the
farmer's cause of death is still uncertain. All that is known is that the
farmer was on his way home from a day in the fields. The Knighthood has not
ruled out foul play. More guards are now stationed on the ramparts, but
there is as yet no sign of enemy activity. 

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.'
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