An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Ralleos.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 65. 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 worn folio on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Ralleos' scribed in dark green ink.

Author:    Ralleos        
Date:      Thu Oct  1 22:41:49 2009
Subject     Going out into the world.

A young man circles an older man, a look of pure hatred on his
face. The
boy, Ralleos Von Drake, was training with his father Meric, who
was a cruel
man who often beat Ralleos for the slightest mistake. Granted,
Ralleos had
be come a decent fighter because of this, but he hated his father
with a
passion. With a grunt, Ralleos jumps forward, swinging his wooden
sword at
his father in an arc. Meric deflects the blow and sends Ralleos
spinning
with a massive blow to the face. Ralleos hits the ground hard and
curses,
wiping blood off his lip. "Youre Pathetic, boy. Theres no way you
came from
my loins." Meric says as he spits on the ground and turns to walk
away.

Uttering a curse as he stands, Ralleos pulls a dagger out of his
boot and
leaps forward, plunging the dagger into Merics side. He pulls his
father
close. "Tell me, am I pathetic now father?" He whispers as he
wrenches the
dagger back and forth in his fathers back. He pushes the man
forward and
Meric stumbles before falling to his knees, holding the massively
bleeding
wound in his side. Ralleos walks calmly over to where his sword
was and
draws it from the sheath. "You..no good.." Meric starts to say
but his words
are cut off as Ralleos sword passes through his neck. Ralleos
watches as his
fathers head soars through the air and lands face down in the
dirt.

He spits on the beheaded body before turning and walking away. He
cleans the
blood off his blade and sheathes it before moving into the house
and
gathering his belongings. With what he needed in a pack on his
back, he
grabs a torch and tosses it into the house before shutting the
door. He was
free now, at least free from his father. Another had been calling
to him, in
his dreams and in his heart. With a smirk he pulls his hood up
over his head
and walks off into the world, the house up in flames behind him. 

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