The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Lyrac.
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 pamphlet on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Lyrac' scribed in blue ink.
Author: Lyrac Date: Sat Feb 10 16:15:25 2018 Subject Lost Days (Part 1)
Lyrac was exhausted. That statement didn't nearly begin to describe how Lyrac felt. How he actually felt was that the Abyss sounded like a spa vacation after the past few years. He'd lost his unit (his true family), a mother, a purpose, and a jackass who had wanted him to call him dad. He'd been tortured and had tortured. He'd walk in light that others could not see and spoke to those who others could not hear. He was haunted by both the living and the dead and by the thread that was holding the entire thing together, his conscience. Now he was starting over. Again. Alone. Again. But he'd heard rumors and seen the wake of the destruction that felt like it might just be a path home. Then he'd been captured. He'd awoken in a rolling cage after a night of heavy drinking. This hadn't been the first time and probably wouldn't be the last. This time he was chained next to a currently sleeping minotaur who was three times his size. He slipped a metal bar from beneath his bracer and quickly freed himself of his restraint. He sized up the situation. Grim, but there had certainly been worse. Then the minotaur woke. One look into his eyes and Lyrac became terrified. Then he found the minotaur had made the same realization as him. "It's not right what they do. I'm a thief. I steal and deceive. Not like them. Not like her." Lyrac moved closer to the minotaur and his hands made a calming motion. "I'm going to unlock those chains. When they stop this cage and let us out...they've going to pay for this". The minotaur nodded and Lyrac unchained him. Lyrac quietly explained what happened and then continued to explain his plan. The cage rolled on and time passed. Lyrac began shouting at the top of his lungs "Hey! Hey! Pull over! Pull the hell over!" There was no response from up front. "Seriously, you guys need to pull over. This - thing - woke up and it needs to relieve itself." Again, no response from the front. "Guys, he's gonna shite all over the back of your cart - do you want to clean this thing out. PULLOVER!" The guards finally pulled the cage over. They opened the door to the cage. Lyrac moved first, yanking the guard into the cage. The minotaur took care of him. Lyrac yanked the sword from the guard's belt. They moved out of the cage quickly. The minotaur took care of the driver and Lyrac slit the other guard's throat. The two nodded at each other. "Lyrac". The man said this and extended his hand. The minotaur's encompassed it as he shook the man's hand. "Doraz es-Garo", the minotaur spoke. (End of Part 1)
The minotaur and Lyrac got along well. He'd worked with several in the old days. Doraz reminded him of them. He was dependable, loyal to a fault even, and a wrecking ball in battle. Over the course of a few weeks they had may their way back towards Sanction. They'd passed through lands both friendly and unfriendly, but it didn't matter much either way. If he had learned one thing in his lifetime of violence, it was that eventually everything bleeds, and if you make it bleed enough, it dies. They generally travelled at night. Lyrac was more comfortable this way, and when they did move through smaller towns and cities, it made his work easier. Less bodies on the streets meant less people to see him collecting debts that were long owed. Too many "old friends" greeted him as they would a ghost. All paid their debt in full. By the time they reached Sanction they were well armed, well fed, and their purses were not unsizeable. Although the debts were Lyrac's alone to collect he split them 75/25 with his new companion. He was valuable and Lyrac had a feeling that he would be more valuable still when he would be able to introduce him to whoever the reigning Highlord happened to be. He'd returned hoping to see that others had survived. He looked for old friends, familiar faces, but there were none to be found. He'd been gone a long time and the Queen's army had spread itself out, so he wasn't necessarily surprised, just disappointed. Still, there was opportunity here, opportunity both to serve the Dark Queen again, and to once again find himself where he was most comfortable...on the battlefield.
Like everything else in his life, Lyrac's time in the Dragonarmy had gone to hell. He followed idiot Commanders into botched raids, watched infighting tear at small groups of soldiers, and witnessed depravity unspeakable. All of this was to be expected unfortunately. Just another stop on the never ending journey that was his life. Day by day little things began to build up making him reconsider his decision. Finally it came to the smallest straw that broke the camel's back. It was another fight between two soldiers. The other men screamed and egged them on. Lyrac stood up and moved swiftly into the circle. He grabbed each man's neck and smashed their skulls together. They slumped at his feet. He continued walking through the circle that had formed and quickly moved down a path toward the port. He was followed. The voice that sounded was gruff. "Where are you going?" Lyrac sighed. This was the only reason he'd stayed on for as long as he did. "It's time for me to leave. This has been...fun, but I must return to Wayreth." He hung his head and kept walking. "I'll go with you." Lyrac had been trying to avoid this. He knew the minotaur would both follow him anywhere and would be disappointed when Lyrac asked him not to. He turned back towards the beast. "Doraz you've been a good companion. A good friend. My best friend." He paused. "You are not Magi, you have no place at the Tower. You could travel with me if you wanted, but you would still have to leave once we reached Wayreth. You have more patience than I do. Make money. Walk away rich. Buy your own ship." The minotaur grimaced. "Or do something else, but following me would be a waste." The minotaur nodded. He already knew this. He still hated to hear it. "Very well." He clasped Lyrac's shoulder briefly and then turned back towards the camp. Lyrac continued on, slowly, heading in the direction of the port. It was high time he found a ship and set sail. It was time to go home.
My homecoming was not what I expected it to be. As I walked through the halls of the Tower I recognized few of the faces. My inquiries into old friends were met with blank stares. Even the leadership had changed. My master, the former High Archmage, was nowhere to be found. He, at least, had left word. I found the letter covered in dust along with everything else in his room. It read: Lyrac, I'm tired. The Tower bores me. Dueling is pointless and is no longer fun. I've had three separate challenges to my leadership - each more pathetic than the last. It's becoming less amusing by the day. If you happen to read this know I've retired strictly out of boredom. Find yourself a challenge. Loser. - Ralmus I read the note and laughed. It seemed just about perfect. I tossed the letter back on the desk and called for a servant. Ralmus obviously wasn't going to be using the room and no one else had broken the enchantment that claimed it. I let the servant in, telling him to clean up. I was going to stay awhile.
My days in the tower had not been fruitless. It'd been years since I spent time truly in study. Most of my time had been spent on the battlefield or preparing for battle. At the Tower I was able to delve deeper into the magic. I learned secrets that I doubt few had discovered. I worked with magic that would make most despise me. Yet, here, there was no recourse. Ralmus's library was well stocked. His books contained ancient and forgotten lore. I pressed my nose into the pages and found myself losing hours at a time. The work became more dangerous and my time spent in more solitude. I rarely left the room. I worked with necromancy, summoned demons, and performed enchantments that would kill those who even heard the words. I found myself growing more powerful by the day...which was truly saying something. I felt as I had back before I had left the to seek out the Dragonarmy. I felt the magic flow through my veins and Nuitari's dark light shine upon my work. The days stretched on and I delved further and further through the library. I stopped only to eat, sleep, and gather components for the spells I needed to cast. This proved to be the most difficult part as it required venturing further and further from the Tower and required more and more time. There were often days I spent camping in dark forests and damp caves searching for specific spell components. I finally found that it was not worth it to return to the Tower so often and just worked the magic in the open. Apart from prying eyes of course, but I no longer required the safety of the Tower and consistantly making return trips cost me valuable time. This worked well for quite some time. Until it didn't.
I was oblivious to the first sign of trouble. The cracking twigs, the moving brush, it all seemed like it was just another day in the forest. I was so deep in concentration that the louder the noises grew the more I fought to ignore them. This was a mistake. By the time I realized that there was trouble, I was already surrounded. Those who wear the black robes are always viewed with hatred and spite by those who fear and don't understand them. This nearly comprises the entire populace, so those surrounding me were far from the first I'd seen with the hatred mingled with fear that was in their eyes. I continued working my magic. The first arrow grazed my arm, but didn't break my concentration. The second should have struck closer to home but instead passed through my billowing robes. I finished speaking the words of my incantation and blew the crushed bone into the air. After that I took quick stock of my situation. I was dreadfully outnumbered. At least for now. Another arrow flew towards me, this time striking true. I doubled over in pain and then fell to my knees. I could feel the leader coming towards me for the killing blow. Then I heard the beautiful sound. Crack. The leader turned to see his fellows beset by the (until recently) deceased. It was a beautiful sight. Before he had time to even brandish his sword they were upon him as well. My spell had worked and worked well. The party was overcome in minutes. I attempted to stand, to view my victory, but wasn't able to even gain my feet. One victory. One (hopefully) minor defeat.
I picked myself up off the ground and limped to the cave where I had been staying. I couldn't stay here long. I would need to return to the Tower this time. I looked down at the arrow protruding from my stomach. This would be miserable. I took out my dagger and wedged it into myself prying up the arrowhead. I gasped from the pain and nearly passed out in the process. Now to stop the damned bleeding. I reached into a pouch and brought out some spell components. My first effort was a failure. I could feel my hand beginning to heat up but the pain was too much. I took a potion from a pocket inside my robe and drank it. It tasted terrible but gave me the strength I needed to perform the spell and cauterize the wound. It still hurt like a bitch. I moaned as I got to my feet. I gathered my supplies. I had brought bag which held a myriad of spell components I had picked up on my travels, as well as a number of spellbooks that I had taken from Ralmus's room at the Tower. I packed little else aside from food. I travelled light for just this sort of situation. It was time to leave. Now. I walked to the cave mouth. I would have to perform more complicated magic to extricate myself from this situation. Serving the land I saw no one. Heard nothing. Their fellows had not come for them. Not yet. I again reached into a pouch on my belt and withdrew an ordinary looking herb. I grasped it and began to concentrate, muttering words as I ignored the outside world. My spell finished, I saw a fleeting glimpse of a number of men entering the cave. It didn't matter as I travelled the pathways of magic back to my room in the Tower. I was in pain. I was exhausted. But I was safe.
My work had been sloppy. Lesson learned. When I strayed from the forest I would resist practicing my magic. I would make the journey outside to gather components and then work my magic in the safer confines of the Tower. At this point it began to make sense anyway. The rituals were becoming more complicated. They took timee, they took energy, I was exhausted after nearly every use. Aside from that, I was working less on ancient magic and more on creations of my own. I'd poured through old spellbooks and found the magic I needed wanting. I was delving into more dangerous territory as I found that each spell seemed to tear at my body and my soul. Despite this sacrifice I felt myself becoming more powerful. The magic that flowed in my veins was the same that had worked its way through so many others. Those who took their places in history. The powerful and the cunning. I wanted to join these ranks. I'd made little impression the first time I'd been given the opportunity to standout atop the black robes. This wouldn't happen a second time. I persevered. I found myself growing even more gaunt then I normally was, but ignore this in tfavor of the work. My nights were spent transcribing theories and accounts of the day into my journal. Thesse notes quickly found themselves being re-recorded into my spellbook, fully formed magic that no one else had the courage to try. I paused for a moment and thought back to my asshole of a father. He'd had the gift as well and squandered it. He spent more time chasing skirts than pursuing his art and his legacy showed it. Sorthrus Oth'ri. Hah. I supposed his work was perverse as well. My late nights continued. My study continued. My magic flourished. I was ready to move forward.
Word spread throughout the Tower about my (mis) adventures. White Robes gave me a wider birth than usual. Meanwhile those of my order began spending more time inquiring into my work. It seems I'd impressed many of them, especially the younger mages. This reputation could certainly become useful. Even without an apprentice, it took like convincing to get these hangers-on to gather components, do grunt work, etc. It freed up my time greatly and I dangled the carrot of necromantic knowledge in front of them. Even some of the red robes seemed intrigued, although less impressed than their peers, they knew power when they saw it. I had gained a reputation. The other Black Robes (not the lackeys) became more interested in my work. We spent hours in discussion about all aspects of magic. I found one mage in particular who was drawn to my work. He went by the name of Daridar. He wasn't as focused or as dedicated to the craft as I was, but he was powerful and he shared an interest in working with the undead. We discussed theory and worked together on practical application. He showed me the spellbooks he had found, apparently he had searched far and wide to expand his knowledge. He didn't have the library to work with that I did, but the books he had were old and full of ancient magic. After weeks spent working in the Tower we worked our way back outside. He told me about the last time he had left the Tower, the village he had ransacked, the money he had gained. It wasn't a bad idea, but there was certainly more than simple plundering in my future. I felt the power that ran through my veins and moved to use it. We visited the village he had destroyed first. The place was littered with bodies and burnt structures. He had truly demolished the village. I laughed as I saw what he had attempted to do. It was simply a demonstration of his power and it was fairly great. "You did well here. I see the power you hold. Is there really nothing more than this?" Daridar looked at me expectantly. "You wield the power well, but there is more thna just money to be gained." He paused and looked directly at me. "That is where you and I disagree. Money can buy everything necessary. Hell, money can buy power."} I shook my head and smiled. "Money can buy certain kinds of power. There are other kinds though. Those that can only be gained by hard work and time devoted." I asked him to watch my back as I began uttering the spidery words of sorcery. I had all the ingredients I needed here and since the destruction of the village the land had become desolate so we had time. We set to work and over the course of the next few spent our time in the creation of something truly impressive. After nearly 6 weeks we found that the monster arose. It shambled about. Most importantly it did our bidding. Time and perseverance had been what we needed. The bone golem had arisen.
This is a series of short diary entries. Rather than post it in multiple tiny stories I created a quick google sheet with it. If interested the link is here https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jFCA-eOV5n2TP3ZGAOZ5CVUovUkm-ifyiMnUWlwKHMU/edit?usp=sharing
The creation of the lenses had left me drained. The enchantments I worked were complex and old magic. The kind of magic that requires patience and concentration. The lenses were beautiful. They sparkled with a red light that the rubies produced. They were truly a work of art. After the enchantment had been placed on them I found myself nearly falling down. I moved to my bed, leaving the lenses on my work table, they would stay there for the next few days. The magic I had performed that day as well as during the past month had left me in need of recuperation. I spent the next several days in bed. I woke with excitement on the third day. Today would be the day my studies could continue. I would delve into a spellbook as ancient as any on Krynn. The magic inside it must contain power untold. My mind raced with thoughts of the power I was soon to acquire. There would be magical works that pre-dated the Cataclysm. There were spells that would do marvelous things and with it would bring me the power necessary to take the next step forward in my journey. I would restore my previous position of power. I would once again find myself getting the respect I deserved within the Tower. After that I would find the same, only in the outside world. I spent the next several weeks deep in study of the spellbook. It contained exactly what I had hoped. Ancient magic. Powerful magic. Spells which would kill quickly and efficiently. Spells that would protect me from my enemies. Spells that would make the ones I had previously known seem trivial. Finally, spells which allowed me to commune with and command the dead. I found these to be the most interesting. The undead would allow me to show my true strength and strike fear into the hearts of all who would oppose me. I decided to focus on these last spells. I made my way outside the Tower yet again, The work I could do alone would be incredible. The work I could do with others who shared my interests (at least for the time being) would be multiplicative. I sent word ahead of my coming. I hoped I would be received well and if not, well, the pathways of magic are strong and I've found that extricating myself from dangerous situations tends to prove easy enough.
Lyrac appeared suddenly outside of Sanction. It was dark, but he could see the flame of campfires. He could hear the roars of laughter and the shouts of drunken anger. These were camps he had known all of his life. He'd spent time in them before he had returned to the Tower to devote his time to his studies. Although a familiar sight, it was not one which he wanted to take part within. With a heavy sigh, he strode through the camp quickly. Some regarded him, but only with a passing glance as theey noticed the black robes fluttering around him. He headed straight south through the camps intent only on one purpose - finding the Inquisator. The familiar smells and sounds were drowned out in a consuming desire to reach his goal. A short while later he approached the doors of the temple. Stopped by one of the guards, Lyrac shot him an icy glare. The guard slouched beck involuntarily and then stood straight again. "I am here to see the Inquisator. I understand she's returned here." He paused, seeing the guards glance go quickly towards his fellow. "I believe I am expected." The guard swallowed and nodded, calling for someone inside the temple. A young black robed cleric emerged from the temple doors and gazed at Lyrac. With a glimmer of recognition he bowed aside to let the mage inside. Lyrac gave a curt nod and entered. He felt a small twinge as he did so, knowing exactly what was going on in these halls, the treasures receovered, the work being done. His Queen and her followers had been busy. He could feel power here and he knew that this had not been a mistake. Lost in thought, Lyrac had missed the question from the young cleric. "Excuse me, but -" Lyrac stared at him. The man continued, "you are here to the Inquisator am I correct?" Lyrac nodded. "I believe my work could be of aid to her and had sent word of my coming." He added, to himself, that it would be infinitely more beneficial to himself.
Lyrac was in a hurry. He knew he was doing the young mage no favors, but unfortunately time was of the essence. He left soon for Duerghast and no idea when he would be returning and he didn't think the younger mage had the stomach...yet...for the work he'd be doing. Still, he would not be derilict in his responsilibilties. He scrawled a quick missive with concise and clear instructions. ********** Elidor, It was my hope that I would be able to spend more time with you before leaving, unfortunately, fate has not permitted so. In my absence you have a great library at your disposal. Mind that you stick to volumes bound in red and those bound plain black ith no adornment. The others you are not ready for yet. My worktable is yours, feel free to use it and any components you find stored within it. Please be mindful to restock them as I haven't the time nor the inclination. I shall most likely be back sooner or later and hope to have seen that you progress in your studies. The enchantments within these tomes are powerful but should be manageable by a cunning fellow such as yourself. Gods permitting I will see you in a weeks time. - Lyrac ********** Lyrac reread the note quickly. It was concise and clear. He handed it to a servant to be delivered to his new apprentice. With any luck, nothing should go wrong in his absence.
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
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