An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Lars.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 80. 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 paper booklet on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Lars' scribed in vibrant purple ink.

Author:    Lars           
Date:      Wed Dec 17 08:55:19
2008
Subject     Lars Ognash

Lars stood against the wall - a blank
stare across the arena. His
opponent, a puny dwarf, stared back at him from the
other side. As the flag
fell, Lars had already begun to move towards his
opponent. His mind was
clear...it was always clear. All he thought was the task
at hand. All that
mattered was the money. The dwarf, seeing a 7'8" minotaur
coming at him,
began to step back. As Lars moved within reach the dwarf tripped
over a
stone in the dirt and fell on his back. 

At this moment Lars thought to
himself, "Why would anyone put this puny
dwarf against me.." 

As the dwarf
fell, Lars spoke some some quick words softly to himself and
grabbed the dwarf's
leg. The dwarf yelled in agony as Lars clutched is
stubby legs and begin to lift
him into the air. He held the dwarf upside
down, his other leg kicking the empty
space, and unsheathed his blade. He
glared straight ahead just before delivering
the dwarf from his worldly body
and sending him back to his creator. 

He
dropped corpse and lowered his head and spoke softly to himself...

"For you
Lady of Darkness... for the strength you have given me over my
opponent... I
make this offering." 

Lars raised his head and, without looking at a single
person in the crowd,
moved and exited the arena. He headed straight back to the
tavern to collect
his winnings. Lars counted the coin and left as swiftly as he
had arrived.
He was off to find the next opponent - the next mark. As it turned
out, the
dwarf wasn't just an opponent but a foe of the drunk in the tavern.


For Lars, this is all he knew.
This is what he did...and did it
well.

Author:    Lars           
Date:      Wed Aug 11 12:14:25
2010
Subject     Memoirs of a Kender

Yes Lars?", Miss Foxglove had
been annoyed at him all day. "Can we go out
to battlefield ruins today?" "No!! I
have told you this 4 times today
already, and I will not answer that question
again." Lars' wanderlust had
come at a much younger age then the rest of the
young ones in his class,
prehaps earlier than any kender in all of Kendermore. A
"normal" kender, if
there is such a thing, has a irresistible desire to wander
the cities and
countryside in search of... anything they can "find".

Lars
already possessed a number of holding pouches, but none were as
fascinating as
the one he is holding for his fathers brother. He acquired it
when his uncle was
visiting his parents for a time back in the summer, while
he was rummaging
through the man's backpack. He waited until they were
completly passed out in
the wee hours of the morning when he began his
search for what he called
trinkets. After close examination of the contents,
and much thought as to what
he'd keep for himself, there were only a few
item remaining in the pack when he
came across the Patchwork pouch and a
small carved figurine. He tried numeous
times to untie the pouch but the
leather straps securing the knot heldfast
against his prying fingers. 

He rushed and put everything back into the pack,
except for what he kept for
himself. Among the things he kept, a Patchwork
pouch, small jade figurine of
an unknown woman, leather-bound journal, bone
flute, and a toothpick sized
dagger. He took all the item and burried them in
the yard where no one would
suspect to look for the 'lost' items. His uncle
never mentioned the items,
or the disarrayed backpack, but Lars thinks he knows
what happened to them.

After only a few days of keeping the items hidden from
everyone, he digs
them up. "Son, where did those trinkets come from," his father
ask him one
evening after a meal. "I been holding paps, gnome friend at school
was
afraid someone might try to steal them, so he gave em' to me to keep
safe."
His father looked at him strangly but kept silent and took another drink
of
ale. 
 
To be continued...

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