The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Menith.

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 miniscule pocket book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Menith' scribed in vibrant green ink.

Author:    Menith         
Date:      Thu Nov 13 06:10:00 2008
Subject     Menith 

Farming in the shadow of the city of Neraka was a difficult life at best.
Menith leaned on the plow wearily, and glanced towards the house, where Gina
was inside, sleeping.  His sister had woken up this morning feeling sick, so
he had told her to stay inside by the fire for a day or two.  He glanced at
the sun, which was slowly sinking behind the mountains, and judged that he 
could leave the field as it was.  The rocky soil would not be harmed by an 
hour of neglect.  

He was trudging towards the house, when the door flew open and Gina stood in
the doorway, a blanket wrapped around her and a stricken look on her face.  
Blood dribbled down her face and she sagged against the doorframe.  Menith
broke into a run and grabbed Gina before her head could strike the floor, 
mopping some of the blood from her mouth with the edge of the blanket. 
"That's rarely a good sign, you know.  The blood out of the mouth."  
Menith turned at the harsh whispered voice and saw a priest standing there,
black hood pulled low, and a veil covering his face.  He leaned in close, 
examining Gina.

"Yes, that's a very bad sign.  She doesn't have much time left.  It's a 
really nasty plague she's got there.  I'm surprised she lasted this long.  
Some of them last longer than others."

Menith set Gina down slowly and lunged at the stranger, reaching to grip him
by the throat.  A flash of light and he pulled back, holding a hand that 
withered and shrivled before his eyes.  He gasped at looked at the stranger.

"Who are you?"  He gasped, cradling the withered hand before him.  The
Stranger's eyes glowed red over the veil. 

"I am Morgion, mortal, and I would suggest you not do that again.  I'll only
remove the disease from you once."  

Morgion passed his hand over Menith's, and the disease crept backwards, and the
hand was healthy again.  Menith stared at the healthy flesh, then at the god.  

"What do you want from me?"

"Oh, it's quite simple, Menith.  You're mine now.  Where ever you go, you will
spread disease.  Gina will be held of your new aliegence.  There
is a band of mercenaries working out of Solace.  You will go with them.  Follow 
where they go, and spread disease in your wake.  Gina can stay here.  Don't 
fail me, Menith.  You'll regret it."

With that, Morgion's figure blurred, and became a fine mist that drifted away on
the wind.  

Menith looked back to Gina.  The blood had ceased to flow from her mouth, and she
opened her eyes slowly.  

"Menith?  What's happening?"

He looked out accross the farm, seeing the only life he had ever known.  
It would be hard to leave.  

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