The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Kharthox.

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 worn tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kharthox' scribed in unearthly blue ink.

Author:  Kharthox
Date    Thu Dec 12 20:45:26 2002

SubjectThe Damned

He was born into slavery. His kind did not know freedom - they knew the lash.

As a young bull he was taken to one of the Dark Queen's port cities and
put to work in a shipyard. He was taught everything, from building and sanding
hulls, to climbing masts and setting rigging. All lesson were learned while
wearing iron shackles around his wrists and a thick iron collar. They were
reinforced with the constant whippings for the ogre taskmasters that the
Dark Queen employed as well as the occasional torment from one of the
visiting Draconian higher-ups.

Yet, he showed no fear.

He listened to the stories that the old ones passed down around the firepit at
night. He used to stare into the dancing flames and listen to their words,
their talks about the way minotaurs used to rule the lands and will take them
back one day. He fought imaginary battles in his mind and he saw bloodshed
in the flickering flames.

He also learned of honor. He learned that honor was the driving force
in a minotaur's life. Without honor, he is disgraced and to signify this,
one of his horns would be lopped off, forever showing to others that he was
unworthy to be called a minotaur. Knowing this, sometimes for cruel pleasures
and to discipline unruly slaves, Bozaks would saw off the horns of some of the
slaves, knowing that they would be shunned and forever make a mockery of in
the eyes of their peers.

Kharthox resented being a slave. He hated the Dark Queen the ogres and
Draconians that caused pain and fought with no honor against a bound foe.

One day, while raising a mast on a new Royal Frigate, he heard warning horns
sound. Those horns meant one thing - dragons.

Upon the sounding, all hell broke loose. Minotaurs, began pouring off the
ships they were working on and looked for weapons in order to defend
themselves. The ogres beat the minotaurs harder, in fear that those weapons
found would be used against them. Silver and gold dragons circled in
the sky while Solamnic knights began to pour through the city gates. The
Knights were here to destroy this shipyard and return the town to it's
rightful owners, the people who fled at first site of the ogres and minotaurs
as they disembarked their troops ships so long ago.

The ogres and Dragonarmy regulars defending the town would not go without a
fight. The dragons in the air gave support with their breath weapons and began
the task of destroying the Queen's Navy that was present in dry-dock as
well as the few completed ships in port.

Flames engulfed Kharthox as he stood on the ship's deck, burning him, singeing
his flesh. He attempted to run off the ship, but his leg chains got tangled
around a broken mast. He was trapped. And he felt something that he had never
felt before... fear.

He feared nothing, not standing dozens of feet in the air on a mast hanging
sailcloth. Not the Dragonarmy ogres lash. Not the overzealous brawls prevalent
in the slave pens. Nothing - until now. The flames licked at him... timbers
collapsed... everything went dark...

(continued next story)

Author:  Kharthox
Date    Thu Dec 12 20:54:35 2002

SubjectThe Damned (Part 2)

Kharthox awoke sometime later. The city had been evacuated, cleaned out of the
evil presence of the Dragonarmy. No Solamnic Knights or their Dragons were
to be seen. He was alone... and dying.

He was badly burned and physically hurt. He managed to pull his hulking mass
from the burnt out hull and stumbled to the edge of a dock. There he collapsed
in the waning sunlight.

Leaning up against a piling, Kharthox looked out to see the sun rising over
the ocean. His throat burned, his skin swelled. He looked out again and saw
large bird slowly guiding his way. It alighted on top of a piling directly in
front of him. Maybe it was a mirage due to his dehydration, or because of his
grievous injuries... but no, perched in front of him was a great red

This beast seemed to speak with him without using words, again he thought he
was hallucinating...

"You hate them yes? You wish to recover yes? You wish to strike back yes?
You want vengeance yes?"

Kharthox nodded his head, the chains from the iron collar rattling loudly.
Kharthox thought "I hate the Dragonarmy and what they have done to me and my
people. They stripped me and others of honor. I hate the Knights of Solamnia
for burning me and reducing me to this. I hate them... I hate them all. They
made me feel, they made me afraid. They all made a mockery of me - I hate
myself for being weak..."

The condor bobbed its head as if listening. Again, Kharthox heard unspoken
words "All will be forgiven. Amends will be made. The fires of vengeance
burn inside of you. You will claim victory..." With a rustling of feathers,
the bird leaps into the air and swiftly glides off.

Clenching his fists, almost passing out due to the immense pain of the burns
all on his body Kharthox stands and unleashes a warcry so loud, so heavy with
ire, that everything around him suddenly became silent and what looked like
flames could be seen smoldering within Kharthox's eyes... Hate,
vengeance, retribution for finding his weakness, all will be his.

(OOC - thanks for reading- this is a story for that Mishy quest- thanks!)

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