The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Wylar.

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 bluish black leather-bound book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Wylar' scribed in brilliant yellow ink.


Author:    Wylar          
Date:      Sat Aug 19 19:55:14 2017
Subject     Profits of War (Part 1)

Business, that's all this was, just business. If I didn't keep up the mantra I don't know what I'd do. I seated myself at the far end of the bar facing the doorway. The bartender walked over and I nodded. He poured me the same beer and set it down in front me. "Gonna drink it tonight friend? You keep staring into these suds like they're a crystal ball." He winked at a couple of the regulars. "I see a long night of sitting here and then when closing time comes, you go home alone. Again." He smirked. "I'm the best fortune teller around. Hell - I've been right twelve days in a row." I dropped a fair amount of copper on the counter and smiled at the bartender. "Stick to bartending." I picked up my mug and walked out. She was standing at the corner maybe fifty feet up and I saw her motion with her head before walking down the side street. I followed. I turned the corner. "Took you long enou-" The last word caught in my throat as I threw myself to theground and underneath what looked like a very sharp dagger. I got to a kneeling position before the second swing came and the blade cracked throughthe mug as I tried to block it. I got my hand sliced for the attempt. I felt another person behind me and managed to sidestep what looked to be about a 30-pound club. I guess it was a good thing I hadn't actually been drinking. I took stock of the situation. One trained assassin with a dagger, a guy about twice my size with a club, and a third person leaning against the wall, barely able to control her laughter, as I tried to keep myself from being carved up or bludgeoned to death. I quickly weighed my options: 1. I could run. Always a safe choice, although it would mean that the past few weeks had been wasted. 2. I could fight. The asshole who'd broken my mug had caught enough of my had caught enough of my right hand to make this a risky play. I didn't know whether I'd have enough strength in it to grip my longsword. 3. Talk my way out of it. This seemed the most promising, but as always, there were drawbacks. I wasn't exactly sure what these people wanted and if it was my life they would probably just take it. I muttered to myself, "Screw it". I grabbed my dagger with my uninjured hand and shoved it through the palm of the guy with the club. I turned to face the assassin just in time to have his blade sink into my shoulder. I shoved my knee into his groin, yanked his dagger from my shoulder, and cold-cocked him while he was doubled over in pain. I heard clapping coming from behind me as I staggered to the wall. "Impressive. Truly impressive. If you're still alive tomorrow, you've certainly passed your audition." I collapsed against the wall and saw her looking down at me. "Pay up" was all I managed before I passed out.

Author: Wylar Date: Sun Aug 20 17:50:57 2017 Subject Profits of War (Part 2)

Sometimes you just get lucky. The dice go your way. You bet on a longshot in a fixed fight. The extremely scary people who you owe money to just happen to be burned alive. You know...lucky. I'd stumbled ass backwards into this gig. Just days ago, I was lying on a cot, delirious from blood loss and some sort of poison. When I finally became clearheaded enough to be angry I found that I was strapped down. I was told they had restrained me because I kept trying to bite the clerics. Two days later the woman from the bar came to see me. She walked slowly around the room looking at the other patients. She had a look of restrained mirth on her face and still had to chuckle at a couple of them. I watched her wandering the room while one of the nurses brought over a plain, wooden chair and set it next to my bed. The woman finished her circle and sat in the chair next to me. We stared at each other in silence for a few minutes. Finally, I cracked. "Alright, what are we doing here?" Silence. "Obviously, you're not going to kill me. I'm not sure what I would have that you would want. I'm broke. My connections are dead or in hiding. You weren't the one I was supposed to meet in that bar I take it. So, please, tell me where this is going?" I was met with more silence. The laughter was gone from her face. All that was left was cold appraisal. She pulled a dagger from her boot. She waited another few minutes before finally speaking, "You'll do." She stood up and then cut the restraints. She pulled a sealed envelope from inside her cloak and dropped it on the bedside table. "Two days from now. Make your decision. Don't make me regret this." She began to walk away but stopped a few feet from the door and turned to look at the patient to the right of her and then back at me. "I mean it." She leaned over the sleeping patient, placed her dagger on the man's throat and slit it. She wiped the blade on his blanket, put the dagger back into her boot, and walked slowly out. The theatrics were certainly for my benefit, but she made her point. I picked the envelope up off the table and unsealed it. There were two pages inside. The first was a short letter. The second was a flyer. The flyer was one I'd seen many times - although not in the last few months. It seemed like the Dragonarmy had papered the better part of the continent with them. They offered money, purpose, and a chance to serve your Queen. I turned next to the letter: I'm sorry that I could not deliver this in person, but my time is in short supply these days. Kylisa has recommended you to me. Her recommendations do not come lightly. If you are as resourceful and quick-thinking as she says, I believe that we shall be able to come to a mutually lucrative arrangement. We will be at the Rusty Rudder in two days' time. Please join us.

Author: Wylar Date: Sun Aug 20 20:17:57 2017 Subject Profits of War (Part 3)

It's amazing how much your fortune can change in a week. Especially if you ignore that pesky moral compass that most people seem to have. A week ago, I'd had trouble drumming up work of any kind. That's what had landed me in that dive - sitting and waiting for a contact that never showed (granted, she was dead, but how was I supposed to know that?) Now I was turning down work. Freelancing was always an option, but a steady paying gig like this couldn't be beat. I went to the Smiling Mug as requested and found Kylisa and an older man sitting at a corner booth. He talked slowly and softly, forcing me to lean over the table to hear what he had to say. It was simple really. A call to arms had gone out. Armies were amassing again. The people I worked for knew that the true believers were going to join anyway. What they needed was someone to discourage the less inclined. They were in every major city. Silver-tongued speakers who encouraged rebellion. Thieves and highway men who ambushed those travelling that might join up. Then there were those like me who worked by intimidation (or more lethal means). My employer had made it quite clear. He didn't care how it happened. All he cared about was that it happened. Kylisa would be my point of contact. If I heard anything major going on I was to get in touch with her (although I got the strong impression that I wouldn't ever know anything before he did). I'd be compensated weekly, both with minor pay and commission for those I had persuaded. Anything I "found" in the process was mine to keep.

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.'

\n