The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Tilsivis.

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 an elegant book bound in elf-skin on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Tilsivis' scribed in earth-colored green ink.


Author:    Tilsivis       
Date:      Thu Nov 22 03:09:25 2007
Subject     The Story of Tilsivis, part one.

Tilsivis lived 'til the age of three with his parents and two older
siblings, both sisters. It was a happy life. On his third birthday,
everything changed...

Til never understood why things around the house began to get hectic, out
of the norm, all he knew was that it was making him angry...no one had time
for him anymore except the youngest of his two sisters, Melianika.

He remembers bits and pieces of that last two months before his world
changed, and non of it made sense. He remembers three things besides his
sister Melia, and those were words...evil, war, and Knights of the Rose.

On the day of his third birthday, a day that was supposed to be joyous, his
world flipped upside down... What was a happy farm on the edge of nowhere,
bloodshed was spilled.

Til's mother scooped him up and hid him in the closet. After what seemed
like days, Til began to hear screams and the distinct ringing of blades and
shields. This brought about a peculiar in Tilsivis, not  one of fear or
outrage, but one of curiosity, so he attempted to peek through the doors.

All that he saw was the flashing of gleaming metal armor and the
mesmerizing light show of cavorting blades. He continued to be drawn to one
blade in particular, one with striking appeal, snake-like flames licking
the length of the mythrl blade.

As the years rolled on in his mind, his curiosity mounted. Like a deadly
assassin, this three year old boy snuck from his place of relative safety,
and he heard what he hears every night, the screams of his beloved sister,
Melianika.

All thoughts of curiosity flew from his childish mind and he blindly ruched
to save his sister. Tilsivis had no idea as to how he would accomplish this
feat but he had a fleeting fantasy of fire springing forth from his finger
tips to incinerate these men/beasts who wear all silvery metal. (he learned
about this hidden power named magick from his sister Melia, even though his
mother and father always said it didn't exist, he belived otherwise.)

As Til burst from the closet in all his mustered glory, he watches a fiery
blade swing about in  its own dance, disembowling his prone father, all the
while feeling a searing pain upon his left cheek.

In a rage never before seen from a child, Til closes his eyes, pinting his
opened hands at this metallic beast and screams with the utmost passion of
rage. When he opened his eyes, he saw the silver Knight fly through the
wall of his house, engulfed in searing white flames.

The world went silent, all blades still as everyone gawked at this three
year old child who just annhilated the Captain of the Rose. Tilsivis sits
and basks in the quiet, a sound he hasn't heard in months, no ringing of
metal, no screams, no grunts , no cries of pain...wait! No screams! Again
Til's scream defyied even the gods as he frantically searched for his
sister. Closing his eyes he charges for the last silver beast he sees, the
"evil" ones, ignoring the men in black robes and aromor.

Author:    Tilsivis       
Date:      Thu Nov 22 03:26:52 2007
Subject     The Story of Tilsivis, part two.

Til wakes to a soft beautiful voice whispering, "There there, its over,
it'll all be ok. What's your name young mage?" A sweet chuckle escapes her
lips as she says mage.

"I did it! I killed those evil Knights of the Rose didn't I?!?" Exclaimed
Til.

With an evil glint in her eyes she purrs, "Yes, those evil Knights of
Solanthus. Never before have i felt such a vile aura as from one of them.
You did excellent boy, now what's your name?"

Quickly he blurts, "Tilsivis...Where's Melia? Where's my sister Melia?"

"It's ok my boy, I'm Alexamarie, please call me Lexi." The woman says...
"Now, what does Melia look like?"

Whispering sorrowfully, "She was the only one with red hair..." trailing
off into a deep slumber.

Tilsivis dreamed of glorious days of ridding the world of the vile
Knights...all in the name of the the Exhalted Queen Takhissis..

Lexi taught Til respect and patience; never enter a situation un-prepared.
She taught him to harness his hate, his rage, so as to not blindly rush
into a potentially dangerous situation. After Tilsivis completes his
training in the arts of magery, he wanders into the world with little
knowledge of the art, but intends to learn it all!

Author:    Tilsivis       
Date:      Wed Sep 22 04:59:37 2010
Subject     Diary of a Tormented Soul:Entry One

As an initiate of the Black Robes,  I spent my time familiarizing myself
with the various areas of the hall, spending most of it in the Conclave
Library and studying with the ghost Liam.

I prefer the company of Liam...

His stings are readily apparent, unlike this tower of babbling mages.
They're all friendly, insided the hall, yet still deceitful. Some show the
strings they wish to attach, only in hopes of hiding the ones they wished
secret. While others ignorantly claim there are no strings... If only they
knew the truth about sentient minds.

The clan hall is a place of mystery, disembodied hands, unseen voices, and
strange sensations, even an annoying green snake that gets in the way at all
the wrong times.

The purpose of finding a magus to apprentice under is a double-edged sword.
A living teacher is always good for learning, but even better at tying one
down. The first step in squashing ones individuality, the inner source of
ones power. Making all mages in ones likeness, so claimed to keep purity
among the arts, to stop the degradation and corruption from altering magic
as we know it...And the largest shackle one can have in the pursuit of
magic. Think about it, ...bright flashes, brilliantly blinding
flashes...jagged lightning, searing flames, placid chaos... I mean
seriously, magic is the ultimate form of uniqueness, not everyone is capable
of wrapping such feeble minds around such intricate patterns, and not every
ordinary person can master the extraordinary.

Thus I have deduced my own opinion of this so called conclave, a place for
strong minded, yet weak willed spell casters whom fear the true nature of
magic... bright flashes, brilliantly blinding flashes...jagged lightning,
searing flames, placid chaos...ADVANCEMENT!

Why else would the gods create magic, other then to advance, to better
ourselves. How else can one better themselves then through magic. Then along
comes the Conclave, with good intentions they teach the ordinary to be
extraordinary, but place limitations upon the mind, preventing the masses
from thinking outside the box. Preventing magic from taking on its true
form, preventing it from shaping, molding, and guiding ones mind towards the
true power of magic!

PLACID CHAOS! 

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 803 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'

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