The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Sidholt.
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 massive tome bound in dragonskin on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Sidholt' scribed in vibrant white ink.
Author: Sidholt Date Sat Jul 27 21:02:07 2002 Subject the renegade Sidholt The human renegade mage called Sidholt was discovered by Aelroth. Formerly known to be travelling with Kestren Bloodstream, another renegade of the Conclave, Sidholt has apparently agreed to answer to Lord Aelroth's commands. Sidholt, as far as anyone can tell, is quite mad. He does not speak much, and when he does, it is cryptic and indecipherable to the knights of Takhisis. However, there was very little difficulty in getting the renegade to swear the blood oath. His odd loyalty to Lord Aelroth is a mystery, perhaps even to Aelroth himself. Sidholt's magic is unpredictable and often reckless, and Aelroth's aim is to use the young renegade as a weapon against the Conclave. Author: Sidholt Date Sat Aug 17 08:01:50 2002 Subject a night at the Obsidian Trace (the Obsidian Trace tavern, Sanction) Meeda Siyal's one good eye was staring daggers at the kapak known as Haask. She remembered the lizard's name only because it reminded her of the sound she would make whenever she hocked a good spit. The restoration of Sanction after Misfortune's Year had neglected certain areas of the city on the outer fringes. The Obsidian Trace was a small tavern in one such slum. The Trace was popular among the hardy locals, offering ale to the humble crowd of regular patrons. In the past week, however, the quiet atmosphere of the Trace had been rudely disrupted by the arrival of some draconians who had decided to make the tavern their new haunt. Unpleasant rumors regarding this band of draconians had reached the tavern before they had even step foot inside. The outspoken and popular barkeep, Daust had immediately made it clear that the draconians were not welcome in his establishment. The draconians left without argument. The following day, Daust was found in a nearby alley, cut from throat to belly. The barmaid Velia, who had taken over to running the tavern, could only watch through red-rimmed eyes as the draconians casually sauntered through the door the following night. Forcefully removing several of the tavern's regulars from their seats, they made themselves comfortable and had returned every night since. Within days, the tavern had lost the business of most of its loyal customers. The draconians were sure trouble, and any Sanction citizen of sound mind had long learned to leave situations like this alone. This night, the place was near empty. Velia stood sullen behind the bar, eyes downcast and slowly polishing a mug. The eight draconians sat by the door, conveniently allowing them to harass anyone entering or leaving the tavern. Meeda sat alone at her usual spot in the corner. Full of spirits and unable to stand, she narrowed her eye at the large kapak leader Haask, who was loudly relating some gruesome details to his baaz companions. There were only three others in the tavern. A pair of grizzled men sat at the bar, their shoulders hunched and heads down, all-too-common traits of the local populace. Then there was the young man who had been sitting by the fireplace all night, his grey hood up, talking into his own mug. Meeda was well-accustomed to crazies, and would readily admit to being one herself. Formerly the captain of the merchant vessel Elya Celene, she had lost her ship and steel in a series of misfortunes that led ultimately to the worst tragedy of all --- She had lost her strength of will to the ale cask, disheartened by constant news of death, and sickened by the sight of poverty-stricken masses who all shared the same pleading eyes that followed her wherever she travelled to over the face of Krynn. It had now been two years since she had retired herself to the outskirts of Sanction, content with the somber qualities of its citizens who managed just to survive, and drink. Wisened by strife, they asked no questions and seemed to accept her immediately with a quick appraisal of her troubled features. Now she sat in the dim corner, her two year drunken hiatus from life rudely broken by the eight scaled abominations seated not five strides away. Eight pressing reminders of everything she had sought to escape from. Meeda had been a fairly skilled swordmaiden in her day, taught well by her surrogate father who had taken her in as an orphan and eventually passed on to her the Elya Celene. In her sober moments, she would sometimes unsheath her old sword and gaze upon it in a daydream. Lost in a past version of Meeda Siyal, the who would not have hesitated to put the draconians in their place from day one. (con't..) Author: Sidholt Date Sat Aug 17 08:15:38 2002 Subject a night at the Obsidian Trace (Part II) * * * Rain was lightly falling upon Sanction, the rain bringing to a rise the faint acrid stench of the lava. The two men seated at the bar had gone now, and the draconians were quieter, clicking away softly in their language amongst each other. The odd young man by the fireplace had not moved. Meeda could not recall having seen him in the Trace before, however the barmaid Velia moved often to ask if he needed a refill, comforted by human presence. Velia would bite her lip and bow her head as she would refill Meeda's tankard, as if in a plea for the older woman to do something about the band of draconians. This annoyed Meeda a great deal, and she had ceased to even look at the barmaid. The tavern had never been this empty in Meeda's entire two year stay, and she became more and more detached as the night went on, lost in her own reverie. She didn't notice the furtive glances from the draconians, or the way their attention was suddenly drawn towards the bar. A baaz stood abruptly, and latched the tavern door. Velia looked up, startled. The kapak gave a hiss, and the remaining draconians stood slowly. At a nod from his leader, a baaz swaggered up to the bar, leering at young Velia. "Firssst, the sssssteel." Velia's nerves finally broke, and squealing, she made an attempt for the kitchen door. The baaz crashed over the bar in pursuit, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her backwards. Claws tore into her flesh and she screamed. Somehow, a mug had levitated in the air, and flew with speedy precision into the side of the baaz's head with a sickening crunch. The baaz, eyes bulging out of his head, emitted a gurgling cough and released the barmaid. The rest of the draconians, bemused, watched as their companion thudded to the floor unconscious. The figure by the fireplace slowly stood up. It was Meeda's first good look at the young man. Quite tall and rather thin, he was clad in grey robes and a long black raincloak. As he stood up, his face remained downcast, his shoulders stooped. He swayed slightly, perhaps from the ale. Something about the way his body moved was oddly unwholesome. An odd image came into Meeda's mind of the awkwardness of a string puppet, one that was attempting to break free of its master. As if it took tremendous effort to do so, he jerked his hand up to pull back his hood, revealing a mop of wild black hair. Letting his hand fall to his side, he jerked his head up to face the rest of the tavern. His eyes were large pools of light blue, round as to appear completely unnatural and rather frightening in their intensity. His mouth seemed to be torn between a smile and a grimace. Though obviously a young man, he was graying around the temples. (con't..) Author: Sidholt Date Sat Aug 17 08:34:18 2002 Subject a night at the Obsidian Trace (Part III) Astonished, Haask hesitated for briefly before snarling out a command. Two draconians circled from behind their leader warily, closing in from both sides on the robed figure. Yet the young man appeared not to notice. He was staring intently at Meeda. Meeda, her eye caught in the young man's disturbing gaze, watched as his eyes flickered and darted from side to side. He raised both hands and made a fluidly graceful gesture. Armed with their belt daggers, the draconians hissed, lunging simultaneously. And somehow he evaded both draconians without moving from his place. The draconians, however, had in mid-air, stabbed each other in the throat. They turned to stone as they fell behind the young man, crashing into the oak floor as statues. Meeda blinked, unable to understand what she had just seen. With a roar, the kapak Haask went after young Velia. She was on the floor whimpering, clutching her bleeding arm. Grabbing her by the hair, Haask pulled out his serrated blade. With a resolve she did not realize she still possessed, Meeda managed to stand up. "Unhand her!", she slurred. Haask whirled upon Meeda in a fury, slitted eyes blazing. Meeda drew her sword on reflex and in that same motion slashed across the ugly features of the kapak. Ichor sprayed as the draconian's head was split open. Meeda had no choice but to grab ahold of young Velia by her injured arm and throw her to the side as the kapak seemed to crumble before them into a puddle of acid, burning a large hole into the floor and exposing the cellar beneath. The remaining baaz, completely unnerved, scrambled to unlatch the door, and within moments had disappeared into the darkness outside. Turning her attention to the young mage, Meeda scowled. "Who, or what, are you? And why are you here tonight?" The mage looked at her blankly, as if not fully comprehending her question. Then as if struck by a sudden inspiration, he started to giggle. "Who am I... who am I? Why, I'm a knight of Takhisis!" Baffled by the answer, Meeda stared dumbly at the mage as he walked forward and smiled. Briefly, the mage's smile seemed to be all-encompassing, and no longer seemed to strange. In fact, Meeda noticed for the first time that the young man was rather handsome. His eyes seemed to shine brighter, and more intense. "In another lifetime, I had known a young man. "He had lost his heart, see. He went all abroad searching for it, along the way he gave much to the needy, and aided those who were stranded in misfortune's path." Meeda could only stare into the brilliant pools of blue. "But in the end, he found his heart exactly where he had left it!" The young man paused, as if astonished at what he had just spoken, and began to giggle madly. He didn't stop laughing. His laughter trailed off into the distance as he strided out the door and away into the Sanction rain. * * * Meeda's eyes lowered stared at her hands, now completely sober. Her face was pensive as she walked to the huddled and crying Velia and took the young woman into her arms, shushing her as if she were a babe. And mid-afternoon on the following day, after making proper arrangments to ensure young Velia's safety, Meeda Siyal departed Sanction on a chartered boat to the New Sea, quite hungover, yet better than she had felt in years. Author: Sidholt Date Wed Jan 15 18:02:16 2003 Subject .. The innkeep was gone. Sidholt ran his index finger along the length of the bar, and frowned. The layer of dust was thick upon every surface in the small inn. Morik must have had gone shortly after his own departure from Sanction not three weeks before. Sidholt had laughingly promised that he would return to their unfinished game of khas. The board was still upstairs in his old room, the game as they had left it. He paced every inch of the small inn, meticulously examining every corner, wall and surface. He found nothing, no sign of a disturbance or struggle. And it bothered him to no end. This was Morik's only home. The innkeep had scarce funds, and wasn't one to wander elsewhere on a whim. It was during his third time pacing through the kitchens that he noticed something in the pot left on the stove. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he picked up the severed finger. He had seen the finger many times, tapping a rhythm on the tabletop before deftly moving to advance a khas piece. Sidholt dropped the finger back in the pot and closed his eyes, leaning himself against the stove. * * * Yaden Varick didn't know quite what to expect, as he strolled into the dimly lit inn on the northern outskirts of Sanction. The tall dark-skinned Ergothian recognized the profile of his patron in the dimly lit inn. Sidholt was sitting motionlessly with his back to the door. "Milord?" Sidholt stood and slowly turned to give his squire a curt salute. His face was half-hidden by the wide brim of his black hat. "Good of you to come here, Yaden." "You called me here on short notice, sire. Your message was rather brief." Sidholt stepped forward and removed his hat. Yaden's eyes widened, startled. Sidholt's face was deathly pale, his eyes bloodshot and the brilliance of his round blue eyes was faded. "Sir!" Sidholt ignored his squire's reaction and sat himself back down. "I must rejoin Lord Decred in two days. There is something you must do for me here." Yaden nodded. "The innkeep here, has disappeared. It is important to me that he is found. If he is alive, good. If he is dead, you must find me the ones responsible." "Forgive me, sire, but this man, he is a friend?" Sidholt hesitated, cracking his knuckles before answering. "He is part of my peace of mind." With that, he stood and gave Yaden a grave look. "Find him." Sidholt brushed past the taller man, and was gone. Yaden stood at attention for several moments before going to the bar and getting himself a glass of the finer wines available. He stared blankly at the severed finger that Sidholt had left on the bar surface, and sighed, wondering where exactly he was going to start. (Story quest for Yaden, good luck)
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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