The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Roak.
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 gorgious hardback on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Roak' scribed in light red ink.
Author: Roak Date: Sun Feb 3 12:31:01 2019 Subject Story Quest: Death Reborn 1
Memory of ones birth is a peculiar thing, few mortals can recall those early and vulnerable moments. Perhaps only Astinus, rumor son of the god Gilean himself, is the only man who can recount his beginning, and perhaps only by virtue of being able to read his damned book. Every other man, elf, or dwarf must wonder what blessing they received to have been born a sentient being. But there are certain cursed creatures that can remember, for their birth was only recent. For the twisted Draconian, their life began with the stolen potential of anothers. Some draconian, the select that survived the early battles and skirmishes fighting for their Dark Queen, prefer to recount their birth as punctured by the memory of smell. Roak the Undying, the Unforgiving, Bane of the Light and Chosen of the Queen, can remember. The first stab of this realms stink cutting through the protective shell of his egg. His early handlers once murmured that Road was destined to rule, to carve his name into this land, because he was born of death. Roak remembers how the sulfur-filled air stung his nostrils, but his handlers only remember the smell of decay when they discovered Roak had crushed, suffocated, and devoured his spawn-mates shortly after being hatched. When asked by his trainers, those hard men of the Dragonarmies that dedicated their lives to training the shocktroopers abominations, why had Roak slain his young brethren, the growing Sivak responded that his Queen gave him leave. He said, the Queen has need of me, and that I should consume to grow strong. With an emotionless shrug, Roak simply related that he ate what was given to him. And grow he did, long and tall with sinewy arms and fingers with incredible strength. The Black Dragonarmy, to whom Roak was given, called him Champion. They looked to him as a leader, following the trail of slaughter he left on the battlefields. Some even took to partaking in consuming what was left of the carcasses he consumed. Men, goblins, ogre and draconian alike believe they could grow like he did. But Roak cared little for this throng of scavengers. His Queen had spoken, and Roak listened. He understood that he was not meant to lead, and he was not jealous of those who were. No, Roak was born to serve. And his Queen demanded that he serve her. And now, in the bidding of his Queens chosen champion, Roak returned to Sanction, the place of his birth. He was compelled to heed the call, and he complied without objection or even thought. His actions were automatic, and he did not waiver. He knew that his Queen would provide, and that he would obey. And those that did not? They would died. No, Roak was not meant to leader, but only to serve unwaveringly. And so he did.
Roak the Undying knelt before the dark cleric, his great serpentine head bowed low before the cleric of his Queen. Short but lithe, clad in flowing black robes, the dark cleric stared sternly at Roak. With mild wonder, Roak was impressed that the cleric could manage to remain cool when a monstrous creature nearly twice her (or his, Roak had difficultly telling the human genders apart) size was within striking distance. If the dark cleric had not been blessed by his Queen, Roak might have been temp Are you listening to me, dragon spawn? the dark cleric growled, clicking her tongue in annoyance. Yes, I hear. Roak responded automatically, head still bowed. You hear, but do not listen! The dark cleric snapped back. I hear and I obey. Roak rumbled in reply, motionless against the tirade. The dark cleric paused to sneer. Roaks hunger flared, and for a moment he was tempted again to lunge for the dark cleric. But the draconian remained motionless, and let the dark cleric prattle on. The Dragonarmies were convalescing, returning to Sanction to regroup. Fractured leadership and weak-willed humans had failed the Queen too many times. Now, a new Empress arose. This dark cleric claimed to interrupt the Queens will, divining the signs from old bones and black tea leaves. Roak could not understand why the Empress permitted such fallible means to sway her mind. She only need to command Roak to speak, and he would tell her plainly what the Queen desired. Devour the fat, so that what remains is strong. Again the dark cleric cawed, snapping his (or her) fingers at the massive draconian. Pay attention beast! The Queen speaks to me, and I to you. the dark cleric Roak knew what he was to do - he was to consume. This dark cleric need not remind him of his purpose. Devour. Consume. What remains, shall be strong. Shall rule. Roak began to understand, the will of his Queen blooming in his mind. This dark cleric, chosen by the Queen - no, anointed by the Queen. Blessed, cleansed and prepared. This human, Roak knew now, was not meant to lead. Nor was the dark cleric meant to follow. The cleric was meant to be devoured. Damn you, wretch! I said ARE YOU LISTENING?! the dark cleric screamed. The woman had been ranting for some time, and Roak had heard nothing until now. With a sudden start, Roak rose and stood upright, startling the dark cleric. She stepped back in reflex and stared wide-eyed at Roak. But before she could speak, Roak rumbled No fear priest, the Queen is pleased with you, loyal servant. Your destiny is fulfilled. The dark cleric emitted a short shriek before Roak tore out her throat with his powerful jaws. And he felt the favor of his Queen flow through him as dark blood rolled down the back of his throat.
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 869 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'
\n