The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Kline.

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 leather bound tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kline' scribed in black ink.


Author:    Kline          
Date:      Wed Apr 30 12:01:17 2014
Subject     The story of a Half-elf

Born a mutt, his mother Silvanesti Elf and father a Solamnic human, Kline had a rough child hood. Even rougher than most half breeds because his mother had died during child birth and his father was off at war, leaving him in the care of his grandparents. They treated him horribly, referring to him as the mutt of the family, which was one of the nicer things they said to him. His home life was easy compared to anywhere else. The other kids would all gang up together and throw stones or beat him with sticks. Hated for being a half breed, no one showed him any kindness. Hatred filled him. He didnt choose to be born a half breed. But everyone treated him as if he were a lower life form. By his tenth birthday he had enough of being beat by the other childern. He stole one of his grandfather's daggers, so he could threaten the other childern to leave him alone. When he pulled the dagger and confronted them, the eldest of the elven childern laughed and called him a worthless dog. Anger and hatred filled Kline and in a quick move he buries the dagger up to the hilt in the Elfs chest. The satisfaction and power he felt were unlike nothing he'd felt before. Yanking the dagger free, he stabs the child again and again, his warm blood covering his hands. Kline watched as the life drained from the elvish eyes of the boy. When the boy finally collapses the other children scream as Kline turns his knife on them. They scatter like the weak things they are. Knowing what would happen now since he had killed the boy Kline runs home, grabs his cloak, bow and arrows, and steals some food from the kitchen before fleeing Silvanost. The next months were hard. He had never hunted or cleaned game and had never slept in the wilderness alone. Alone, lost and half starved, he had all but given up hope of surviving. On a rainy, cool night, he trudged through the mud and trees, trying to find shelter when he was attacked by a large wolf. Firing his last arrow, he misses and the wolf leaps at him, knocking him to the ground. He just barely got his bow up in time to shove long ways in the beasts mouth and pushing with all his strength he can barely keep the wolfs teeth away from him. The bow breaks and the beast lunges forward, but Kline moves his head just fast enough to keep from getting killed, but the beasts teeth tare across the side of face and takes off part of his ear. As the wolf draws back to lunge again, a loud twang is heard followed by a solid thud and the wolf falls lifeless onto Kline. Moments later, the beast his lifed off of him by a tree of a man, and standing next to him is a lithe Half-elf woman holding a torch. The mismatched pair took him in and over the course of ten years trained him in the various ways of killing. Be it a head on fight, or a poisoned assassination, between them they had years of experience that they passed on to him before turning him loose in the world. Another killer for hire.

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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