An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Nefaria.

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 manilla folder on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Nefaria' scribed in dark grey ink.

Author:    Nefaria        
Date:      Thu Mar 19 17:39:35 2009
Subject     The wounds fester, Part 1

In Sanction, only two things mattered more to Governor Commin: food and music.
He was lucky enough to attain a position which adforded him the best meals he
could buy - his wife, unfortunately, could hardly boil a pot of water properly.
His other passion, however, was sadly lacking from his life.
 
Until Teria Fejere made her first appearance at Sanction's Market Square.

It was the third day of Sanction's annual, week-long Festival of Shinare.
Hundred of people flooded the square, and dozen of merchants peddled goods
to whomever came within shouting distance.  The air was uncommonly crisp and
cool for a late summer's day, but the mood of the crowd was undaunted.  Some
might say it was the ale flowing through their veins; others would (rightly)
attribute the light-hearted mood to the melodious offerings of Teria Fejere.
 
She was one of the most alluring women of the countryside.  Red locks framed
her soft-featured face, flowed over her shoulders, and ran down the back
of her curvacious figure.  But her body was only the tip of the iceberg of
her allure; her angelic voice enthralled, enchanted, and took hostage of the
most hardened heart.  People say she might have been Branchala's daughter.
 
Governor Commin was not immune to her inadvertant charms.  Like anyone within
hearing range, he had to stop and listen to whatever magic flowed out of her
delicate mouth.  But few others were as obsessive over music as he, and it was
this obsession which set in motion the cause of both of their demises.

Teria roamed the various town celebrations with her family.  Her husband, Tam,
accompanied his wife with beautiful lyre-work and often lent his tender tenor
to his wife's songs.  Though he was not nearly as talented as Teria, Tam's
voice was the perfect undertone compliment to his wife.  Their eldest child,
Palao, was also developing into a musician in his own right; he had concocted
a new musical instrument out of a lyre, and used a slender branch with golden
hairs strecthed across it to saw-out notes on the device, creating a flowing
tone which almost seemed to emulate his mother's melodious voice.

The family's youngest child, Aria, had been studying with her mother for the
past several festival seasons, and was even beginning to lend her 12 year-old
voice as an opening act for her more experienced family members.  There was
little doubt that the child would one day carry on the family trade, for not
only did she seem to have her mother's voice, she also had her mother's fine
red hair and emerald green eyes.

But family ties and beautiful children did not interest Governor Commin; only
his desire to possess this wondrous voice seemed to matter.  He knew that he
MUST have Teria as his own so that only he could be privy to that voice.

After her fifth performance of the day, of which Commin sat through all but
one - he had to put in an appearance with his wife for some mundane public
ceremony - Commin approached Teria and requested that she remain in the city
as Sanction's official vocalist.
 
So husky was his voice that Teria knew exactly where his true desires were
focused.  She respectfully declined his initial request, then more and more
forcibly she declined as more and more forcibly he made his requests, which
quickly turned from polite to indignant, from indignant to angry, and from
angry to threatening.  It was only after Palao walked in that the Governor
finally relented.

Moments later, Tam entered as well, and seeing his wife in a profound state
of disarray, he demanded to know what had just happened.  Though his wife
denied any problems, Tam suspected something had occurred and asked Commin
to leave.  Commin, worried that he might have jeopardized his elite position,
abruptly left, but knew he had to do something in order to hold onto his
governorship.  As he pushed past young Aria, who had been standing outside
the door, he knew he had to hide the evidence of his near-indescretion.

Later that evening, he had one of his trusted advisors hire some local thugs
to put an end to Tam and his wife.  Though it would be a tragedy to the area,
Commin considered that a small sacrifice to maintain his position of power.
 
Tam and Teria were throttled in their sleep.  Young Palao was slain as well,
his throat slit when he came running down the hall of the inn after having
heard his mother's scream.  And little Aria had been hurt, too, bludgeoned
across the face and left for dead at the bottom of the inn steps.  Not a
one of their prayers to Branchala, lover of music, was ever answered.
 
Twenty days later, when she had finally woken up, she brought to the city
officials to provide whatever information she could.  The only information
they could get off of her - other than general descriptions of big, cloaked
men - was of an argument she had with a man matching Governor Commin's
description.  He of course denied any such encounter, claiming to have been
with his trusted advisors after the performances in question.
 
Aria was left in the care of the city, for she had no other relatives who
came forward to claim kinship.  She wasn't even allowed any property of
her deceased parents or brother; those items had been pawned to pay for the
funeral expenses and medical costs to revive Aria.  She wound up in the
care of a local potion shop owner who was a cousin of the Governor.

Author:    Nefaria        
Date:      Thu Mar 19 17:45:50 2009
Subject     The wounds fester, Part 2

A week later, Governor Commin came to Aria.  He brought her down to the shop
to see if she could be a threat to him.  Something about the man touched
off a part of her memory, and she clearly saw the altercation which had taken
place nearly a month beforehand.  When she told him her relevation, he
simply responded, "So?  No one will ever believe you."
 
She ran at him, and he simply stepped aside, pushing the young girl into a
display of potions, which promptly shattered and caused many cuts to her face
and hands.  He shoved her out of the back alley of the shop, and proceeded to
kick her, all the while hissing at her that this time she'd never wake up.
 
At that moment, a blackness enveloped her.  For a moment, she though she had
died, but then light began to slowly come up - like the slow rise of the two
moons.  She was on the alley floor,  Commin frozen next to her.  Next to her
was a small knife.  She heard a voice rasp, "Take. Hurt him as he hurt you."
 
Standing up, knife in hand, she stumbled over to Commin's frozen figure.  As
she came closer, she could see his eyes were wide and moving, the only part
of him able to express the terror presently gripping him.  Finally he found
his voice: "Please don't kill me.  I'll admit to my crimes."
 
Moving closer, Aria hissed back, "You didn't listen to my mother."  Plunging
the blade into his chest, she moved closer and added, "You deserve more than
just the one death I can give you."
 
The small, single, 2-inch wide wound in his chest began to pulsate.  Aria
found she could not remove the blade, nor could she detach her hand from it.
She watched in fascination as a dull yellow-green light spider-webbed out
from the wound and crept up to Commin's face.  He began to gag and convulse
in rhythm to the pulsing of his knife wound.  Froth and blood bubbled up and
out through his lips, and darker blood began to seep from the edges of his
eye sockets.  Commin shook violently sevral times, and then was still.
 
A gravely voice whispered in the dark, "Why didn't you turn him in?"
 
 
Before she even turned around, Aria replied, "He deserved to suffer."
 
 
"Hrm," commented the raspy voice.
 
"What?" she asked, as she turned around.  She did not know what to expect,
but she did not anticpate seeing the owner of the potion shop, Commin's
cousin.  At first, Aria's eyes widened in alarm, then in curiosity. "Why
didn't you stop me?  He's your cousin, right?"
 
"Correction: WAS my cousin.  Why I didn't stop you is not as important as
why I'm not turning you in."
 
"And why is that?"
 
"Because your rage, your anger, was delicious.  Your thrist for him to
suffer a hundred deaths for each of your family members, it was divine."
He grinned evilly and continued, "Tell me, child, what do you know of the
god of cleansing suffering, Morgion?"
 
In the nearly seven years that have passed since that exchange, the
young and formerly-innocent girl has allowed herelf to change.  Not once
did she seek healing for the initial scars of her face.  Though the
potions she was doused in had no harming effects, she constantly picked
at the scabs, relishing the pain, and remembering the blind eye turned
on her and her family as they all desperately prayed for Branchala's help.
 
After sneaking out of Sanction, having slain all six advisors who provided
false alibi for Commin, and having murdered the three local thugs who did
Commin's dirty work, she stopped going by her name, ending any inquiries as
to how she look liked that daughter of the tragically famous singer.  She
no longer believed that music (or any god of music) could save anyone.  She
no longer felt like a beautiful work of melodious art, an aria, but something
more sinister.  Something more disrupting, less palatable, less pleasing, and
infinitely more painfull.  Something corrupting.
 
Something nefarious.  And she has enjoyed her calling ever since.

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