The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Lorcan.

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 pulp magazine on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Lorcan' scribed in brilliant maroon ink.

Author:    Lorcan         
Date:      Tue Dec  2 02:11:49 2008
Subject     Lorcan uth Dukar

Lorcan was raised at a small Solamnic outpost in the Vingaard mountains, the
son of a Solamnic knight and a local noblewoman.  His mother is a descendant
of Lord Dukar, honored blacksmith of the Solamnic knights.  As a young child,
Lorcan showed an affinity to the clerical arts, and was placed under the tutelage
of the Solamnic cleric stationed at the outpost.  As a young man, he put what he had
learned to use when shadow cultists infiltrated the outpost and contaminated
the food and water supply with plague.  Men were dispatched on horseback
to seek help from Vingaard, but were quickly slain by cultist road agents.
Lorcan watched as his mother, as well as many other people who he knew
and loved, succumb to the plague and its horrifying effects.  He helped to tend
to them the best he could, but there was little he and his tutor could do with
such limited resources.  By the end of the first week of the cultist siege,
half the population of the outpost lay dead.  His grief-stricken father and
the remaining knights at the outpost rode out into the wild in a last-ditch
attempt to defeat the cultists.  They never returned.  Stubborn as only a
young man could be, Lorcan had been adamant that he would ride out with
his father to avenge the death of his mother.  However, after his father appeared
to relent and said he would allow it, he was knocked unconscious from
behind shortly before the men were to ride out.

He awoke in an outpost cellar that was boarded up from the outside, 
and found himself amongst a stock of uncontaminated food and drink.
His pounding on the cellar door and screaming elicited no response from
the other side, and it wasn't long before he gave up hope.  He passed
his time with meditation and breathing exercises that the outpost cleric
had taught him, and he ate and drank frugally.  There was no way for
him to tell whether it was night or day, or how much time had passed, but
it seemed to him an eternity before he heard the voices of men from
above the cellar door.

The men who let him out were Knights of Solamnia, a band that had ridden
from Vingaard to investigate after there had been no communication for
weeks.  As Lorcan was led out into the sunlight, he could see through squinted
and tearing eyes that the knights were tossing bodies into a firepit.  One knight
laid a mailed glove on his shoulder and with a sad gaze told him that the
cremations were necessary, and that no one else had survived.

He rode with the knights to Vingaard where he found shelter with his mother's
noble relatives, whom he had never met.  He soon discovered that his mother was 
quite estranged from her family.  Even though they gave him a place to stay in
the interim, they treated him quite coldly and made clear that the arrangement
was to be temporary, and that he was on his own.

Several days passed, and after gaining a stamped letter from his mother's
brother affirming that he is indeed of noble blood and a descendant of Dukar
the Smith, Lorcan bought a limping saddle horse off a one-armed dwarf with
the last of his gold and struck out for Palanthas - to enlist with the Knights
of Solamnia.

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