The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Zanra.

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 pamphlet on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Zanra' scribed in deep brown ink.

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Mon Jan 18 22:25:07 2010
Subject     Pattern of Life

Bueren Rose...that's what I've been called before. Strange that I'm
called Summer Rose when I resemble nothing like one. But, then again, many
things make little sense in the scheme of how patterns of life seem to link
things together.

My mother has been gone many years. She was with me through the early part
of my life, only to succumb to an illness that ravaged her. My father died,
old and grey, long before I was even considered an adult. I guess that's to
be expected when he was human.

He was what could be termed Camaxilas, a sword lord. I can remember his
stories of armored knights and fighting before he met my mother and gave up
his sword.

He dusted his armor each week, his hand gently caressing the embossing in
gold. A strange saying he would repeat each time. For some reason I'll
remember it, yet won't say it because he told me to keep it inside until the
time was right. 

When he died, we did as he asked and sent a single message by horseman. We
expected nothing, but were surprised when one man showed up. This one man
wore armor similar to my fathers and said words as he was lowered into the
ground. My mother gave the man the armor and weapons when he left.

We left for my mother's old homeland shortly after the funeral. I understand
why, now that I can look back and remember what was said.

It was a primarily human village near a large city of mostly humans. When my
father died, the once friendly people started calling my mother a whore and
blaming her for causing my father to forget an oath he took. Strange, these
so-called friends never said this before, yet blamed my mother for the love
my parents shared.

Her exile took us to Qualinost. Her family welcomed her back with open arms,
but there were some unfriendly gazes that flashed my direction. And these
gazes brought new vocalization to words that my father said with love and
affection. I came to know that 'half elf' and 'half elven' could be said
with contempt and malice.

In this city that treated my kind with contempt and hatred, I found solace
in two men. One was a man familiar with weapons. He taught me how to use a
mace. The other man was a cleric who taught me the healing touch and told me
about the Gods and their stars in the sky. He did not treat me with anything
more than pride when I made my decision to look to the same God my father
did. Instead he merely nodded and continued to teach me how to heal. Both of
these men shaped me and set me on my path. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Thu Jan 21 13:19:51 2010
Subject     Keeping the journal updated

They traveled slowly, she and the knight who clanked, followed by the
shaggy horse. They spoke little, but Zanra was used to the quiet. Instead
she looked at the trees and grasses that surrounded her, seeking familiar
and unfamiliar that she could use in her work. She would stop occasionally,
pulling leaves from trees and berries from bushes. She stuffed them in bags,
saving them for later.

When they got closer to the camp, she begged off to sit against a large
tree. With her rest, she pulled a well used leather bound journal from her
bags, along with an inkwell and pen. Dipping the pen in the ink, she began
to write. 


 350 Post Cataclysm, 1st day of the Month of Reorxmont

I met a knight. He needed a wound healed. He said the wound was recieved in
battle. I bade him to show me the area. It was on the middle of the left
side, bound by a well soaked bloody bandage. I removed the wrapping,
revealing a wicked blade cut. He mentioned that an axe had done the damage.
I cleansed it and applied powered Black Barony. I hope that will help pull
out the infection and speed the healing. I used a new leaf that I found,
crushing it to a gooey substance to help cover the powder. 

I wrapped it with linen, then helped him redress in armor. I don't know if
he will listen to me, but I did advise him to loosen the straps that keep
the armor on if the wound begins to hurt. I will remain in the area to look
at the wound again in a few days to sure that my ministrations worked. 


She looked up, looking around. With a sigh, she replaced the journal in her
bags and stood, continuing on the path with the knight. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Thu Jan 21 19:17:58 2010
Subject     Journal entry 2


350 Post Cataclysm, 4th day of the Month of Reorxmont

I returned to the camp to check the knight's wound. I did not see him, but
did see another. I spoke with him. He was resting. I found out his name, but
will not put it in writing for fear that this fall into hands that do not
follow the manners these knights do. We spoke for a bit. He knew of my
father, and it made me happy.

I was able to find the first knight and checked the wound again. The
infection had gone. I again treated it with Black Barony and wrapped it
again. This time when he called for his armor, the other knight took it and
would not allow him to wear it. I was glad to see this. 

On the side note, the first knight was willing to talk, but also a bit
cautious. He seems to need an outlet for the frustrations he has, but,
without knowing me, he seemed reluctant to talk to me about it. Knowing what
has happened, I know that he needs what he has to be able to do what needs
to be done. Cryptic, yes, but with reason. I know what needs to be done, but
others do not need to know. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sat Jan 30 03:24:02 2010
Subject     First day of training

She limped slowly back to the tent in which she slept, her muscles aching
from the training session with Lord Railen. She said nothing as she ducked
into the tent. Flipping the tent flap closed, she dropped the practice mace
to the ground, took two steps, then fell to her knees. Holding her stomach
and her arms to her, she groaned as she sunk to her side. "Damnit, why
didn't I think that this would NOT hurt as bad as it does," she asked,
grasping at the strap to her bag. Not being able to grasp it, she forced
herself to her hands and knees, crawling to the bag in the corner of the

Rummaging through it, she dug out what she needed and, with tears in her
eyes, she started a pot of water to boil. When the water was boiling, she
dropped what she thought she would need into the pot, starting to attempt to
heal her aches and pains.

An hour passed as the water and herbs seeped. With a startled snort, she
awoke. She stretched carefully, trying to avoid overusing the muscles that
were sore. 

"For the love of Paladine..." she started, stopping just a fast as her
fingertips tingled. She shook them, a bit afraid that she had pinched
muscles. Not feeling any lack of feeling, she looked at her hands. "That's
strange. I have never felt that before," she whispered, pouring a large cup
of the tea from the boiling pot. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sun Jan 31 13:32:00 2010
Subject     Moonlight

Zanra listened, carefully straining to see if anyone stirred in the camp.
Not hearing anything, she picked up the dreaded weapon from the morning and
made her way into the nearby forest. There, with no one watching, she tried
to remember what she had learned from Railen. She remembered part of it, but
other pieces slipped out of her mind.

After an hour or so of working, she dropped the weapon, much to the relief
of muscles that seemed to cry out for peace. With an escaped moan, she fell
to her knees, wrapping her arms around her chest. "Father," she whispered.
"If this is what it takes to be what you were, I'm not sure that I'm ready
for it," she whimpered, a bit of sorrow in her voice. Carefully, and slowly,
she looked around to make sure that no one had followed her into the
clearing. Seeing no one, she slowly laid down on the cool ground and closed
her eyes. "I don't know if you can hear me...I've never talked to you
before, but if you are there...Paladine give me strength," she whispered.
Again, she felt her fingertips tingle. With painful movement, she touched
them to her face, feeling a strange warmth come over her. She felt strength
flow back into her arms and the exhaustion that she had been plagued with
flow out of her.

She lay there for a while longer, wondering if this was actually what she
thought it was...then sat up and bowed her head. "I still don't know what
this is, but if it does come from you...blessings to you Paladine," she
whispered as she stood, picked up the weapon and continued to practice. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Feb 17 12:55:59 2010
Subject     Skeletal remains

Zanra walked quietly through the skeletal remains of the camp on
Sancrist. Once there had been Knights of Solamnia as far as the eyes could
see. Now, only a handful remained. She knew little of where the others had
gone, only that she remained to do what she was told to. 

Smashed fingers, broken toes, bloody nosesall she became fairly familiar
with as she helped out on the docks. She sat under the shade of a tree,
healing those who had incidents with crates, oars, and other obstacles that
lay in the way of progress. Occasionally her eyes would drift, looking for
others that she knew, but none of them were still on the island. Each of
them had their own orders and would soon meet somewhere else. Zanra could
only hope and pray that each of them made it back with the minimum of

When he stepped around to watch, she felt the need to slink farther into the
shadows of the trees. It still bothered her that she knew what she did. She
hoped that he didn't know of her hesitation, but knew that the word would
get around. She laughed a little, thinking that she could possibly be left
behind of the peaceful island, but knew that wish was impossible. She had
taken the vow and given her oath. She now had to follow orders.

He looked her way, his eyes knowing that her thoughts had gotten back to
him. With a roll of her eyes, she stood and dusted herself off before
walking to him and saluting him. He merely looked at her. "Are you ready?"
he asked. She shrugged. "As ready as I can be...considering." He nodded.
"And of your other plans?" he asked. She shook her head. "I have not
considered them. I had asked before joining the Knighthood, but everyone
seemed too busy to answer me. Those plans are now gone," she said, surprised
that the sorrow that she once felt was now gone. He merely nodded, turning
back to watch the activity on the docks. 

"Have you practiced your mace today?" he asked without looking at her. "The
day is still young," she answered. He seemed to laugh a little, turning his
head to her. "Not that young," he replied. She sighed. Saluting him, she
turned and walked toward a clearing in what was left of the tents to
practice the new forms that he had taught her. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Feb 24 00:37:23 2010
Subject     The crossing 

The dock workers seemed haggard as the finished loading the last of the
cargo. They then walked up the gangplank and waited for the last of the
passengers to board.

Zanra shrugged her shoulders, settling the still unfamiliar armor on her
shoulders. The strap of her pouch crossed the breastplate, looking rather
funny as it settled at her waist, along with the mace and things on her
belt. She glanced around, waiting for him. He came down the beach, heading
for the ship. She caught the slight movement of his hand, beckoning her to
his side. She nodded, following him up the gangplank and aboard the ship.
The captain greeted him warmly, nodding as he gave the orders to head for
the mainland near Palanthas. Zanra merely stood at the rail and watched.
"You know there is a cabin you can rest in," a dockworker said quietly to
her. She nodded, feeling the boat rock under her feet. She tried to smile at
the dockworker, feeling her own stomach flip and flop with the motion of the

Night fell soon after, Zanra making use of the once empty bucket in the
cabin set aside for her use. The dockworker who had spoken to her had
already emptied to bucket three times, sighing each time.

He came to see her the next morning, seemingly amused at what had befallen
her. All she could do was glare at him over the rim of the bucket as she
continued to empty the contents of her stomach. The dockworker entered after
he left, shaking his head. "The bloody bastard should not harrass you so
much," he said, helping Zanra to her bunk. "He should have a bit of a heart
at seeing you this sick. What's his life gonna be like if a healer such as
yourself doesn't survive the crossing?" She barely shook her head as the man
replaced her full bucket with an empty and left the cabin quietly. 

Night passed into day. The sun had barely risen when Zanra rolled herself
out of the bunk and hit the decking on her knees. A mere whisper was all she
was able to manage, but with it she called out for relief. And with her
whisper, soft blue light seemed to filter in with the coming dawn, bringing
with it a healing sensation that seemed to take all sense of the meaning of
the term 'seasickness' from her. From her knees, she looked out the circular
window and praised the help of Paladine. 

The dockworker arrived soon after. He knocked and was surprised at the call
for entrance. He found Zanra sitting in a chair, attempting to clean herself
up. He smiled and bowed his way out of the cabin, returning a bit later with
a large basin of water and towels. He nodded as she thanked him, telling her
to drop the dirty clothing outside the door. He left, chuckling as she
blushed and stammered her thanks.

Zanra sat for a moment longer, looking at the clean water. With a sniff, she
made a face and went to her pack, pulling out fresh clothing for herself.
She quickly cleaned herself, donning the new clothes. Remembering what the
dockworker had said, she dropped the soiled clothes in a pile outside the
door and quietly made her way, without her armor, to the deck of the boat. 

She saw him there, but made way to avoid him as she walked toward the front
of the ship. With a shy smile at a deckhand, she leaned against the railing
and watched the blue water slip by. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sat Sep 25 11:27:49 2010
Subject     Night sky

The night air was just a bit crisp, crisp enough that Zanra pulled her
cloak tighter around her. She looked up, finding the Platinum Dragon among
the stars and felt just a bit better. It seemed like the weight of thousands
was on her shoulders and she was unfamiliar with it. She could feel the
tension in the air from her vantage point. Some of the troops seemed ok,
others were scared, not knowing what was coming.

She started when the Grand Master walked by her. He looked toward her and
nodded. She merely returned the nod and stood, walking away from the safety
of the camp, yet not far enough away to leave herself open to attack. There
was a lot of uncertainty, things that she wasn't ready for. Her past flooded
back to her, causing her to remember things that she had hoped to keep
buried. All would come out in the future, she was afraid, but knew it

Lord Railen acknowledged her as he walked by, making the rounds of the camp.
She nodded, turning and heading a different direction. Tonight was not a
time for conversation. Tonight, she had to make peace with the demons of her
nightmares. And that was for no one but her to figure out. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Sep 29 01:59:04 2010
Subject     Meeting things along the way

It all seemed sureal as she rode along with the troops following the
GrandMaster. The trees even seemed quieter than normal to her. Usually she
could read and see things as she traveled, this time there seemed to be
nothing that would reveal anything to her. Still, she rode, following orders
given to her by the leaders of the Knighthood. Her orders were clear; she
was a healer and that was her job. 

Something strange caught her attention, as it did the others in the group.
Just a mere turn of her head and she found herself laying on the ground with
her head aching. The fighting knights, as she called them, gathered with
their friends, and together, they attacked. In the end, the friends and
allies stood together with the knights and, with what she could do to help,
the creature fell to the ground. 

She started to walk away to round up the horses that got scattered in the
process, but stopped short, almost running into the GrandMaster. He had
watched her efforts and her success on the field of battle and, then and
there, ordered her to kneel. He took the still bloody sword, and with her
oath, she stood a shocked look on her face. The GrandMaster merely smiled
and walked away to gather his thoughts. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Fri Oct  1 13:42:21 2010
Subject     Grief for the past

Even where she stood, the news of the happenings in her homeland hit her
hard. People she knew were gone or captured, and she could do little but
mourn them where she was.

She didn't really know exactly what had occurred, only that the people
around the forest had been overran and beaten. One part of her just wanted
to open a portal and step through to see if she could find any survivors and
take them to safety, but another part knew her duty to her oath. It was now
that the reality of what her father had gone through seemed to dawn on her.
He too did what he knew was right, forsaking everything else. And as his
daughter, she too had to make the difficult decision to remain where she
was. It wasn't only the elves that she had grown up with and had played with
as a child that mattered, the safety of others who looked up to those like
her was at stake. 

The walls were really the only things that seemed to know her pain and her
sorrow. She would not show it to anyone else, that was not her way. Instead,
she barred herself in a lonely room and grieved, pouring out her emotions. 

She finished late into the afternoon. Clearing her face of emotion and
locking her pain and grief inside her, she exited the lonely room and made
her way to recieve orders from the leaders. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sun Oct 24 15:02:14 2010
Subject     Pushing forward

The land was different than how she remembered it. The trees were no
longer happy. Instead they drooped and almost seemed angry and sad in their
appearance. All together, Zanra was angry and saddened at what had happened
to her childhood homeland.

The atmosphere, too, seemed familiar, but the same from her youth. With a
glance over her shoulder at the GrandMaster, she dismounted and walked into
the forest. She found what she searched for. With careful hands, she lifted
the old box from it's resting place and emptied the contents into an unused
pouch. With a silent prayer to Paladine, she lit the old wooden box on fire
and watched it burn. Once it was completely destroyed, she returned to the
rest of the Solamnics and mounted her horse. With another glance at the
GrandMaster, she followed them back to the camp.

That night seemed cold and eerie. The battle ravaged land was quiet. The
darkness had dwarfed even the hottest bonfire. Yet, from the forest came a
sound that only Zanra knew. She rose from her fitfull sleep, donned her
clothing and a cloak and followed the noise.

A sheltered fire burned inside a well concealed cave. She was met at the
entrance by Qualinosti elves, their weapons pointed directly at her.
Reluctantly, they lowered their weapons when she gave the passcode that made
her known to them.

Their leader sat near the fire, his arm broken and bloody. Near him, others
fared little better. Zanra approached them with caution. "Quenta solari nen
heth y mori Firthing D'l'athil. Droviala Zanra d'Zaradene," she said to him.
He glanced at her and glared. "Is your true heritage so degraded by your
human blood that you forgot your true name and who you are?" he asked,
attempting to rise. She beat him to it, kneeling next to him. "I've
forgotten nothing Firth. I know exactly who I am," she retorted, lifting his
injured arm and starting to unwrap the bandages. He merely looked at her
with a hooded glance. "Prove it, Zanralansana," he said, the challenge
ringing in his voice. She dropped the bloody bandages to the ground and drew
on what she knew as a healer, healing the break and closing the open wounds.
He merely watched her, his gaze still challenging her.

With Firth's gaze still on her, she moved around and healed the others who
were hurt by the battles. When she'd finished she stood up, heading for the
cave entrance. Firth stood in front of her, his battered sword brandished.
"Firth, move aside," she said, stepping to one side to pass. Instead, Firth
moved in front of her. "Does the blood of the Caladon line run so cowardly
that you hide behind armor bound oafs who use you? Or do you still possess
what you once did? " he said, dropping the sword in challenge. She merely
stepped back. "Firth, they need you to lead them. I am in no position to do
that anymore," Zanra said. "I gave my oath." Firth laughed. "Gave your oath
to those who took you from us to begin with. You should have stayed here
instead of turning Valth like your mother," he said. 

Zanra dropped her cloak behind her before she even realized she did it. She
reached for a weapon, realizing that she had not brought one. Firth laughed.
"Do you rely on steel like them?" he taunted, grabbing her arm and flipping
her over his shoulder. 

Zanra hit the ground, rolling to her feet. She stood, watching him. He
circled her, taunting her with the names she was called as a child. When he
insulted her mother a second time, she stepped toward him, lunging at him,
only to land on her back again. She rolled, finding a crude dagger at her
throat. "You've gone soft Zanralansana. Did the armor wearers not test your
skills, or did they merely hand you gear and say fight like they did to
traitors like your mother?" he asked, pushing on the knife. With a growl,
Zanra grabbed the hand with the knife and flipped him. She rolled, coming to
her feet. "You know nothing Firth," she said, moving carefully. 

They fought, each of them seeming to take advantage, then the other turning
the fight around. A rustle brought the fight to a halt as a sentry came
rushing in, blood streaming from a large cut on his shoulder. Zanra healed
him as he delivered the message of a fight nearby. Firth tossed Zanra a
knife. "Prove your skills or be branded traitor like your mother," he said
as he left. She needed no other encouragement. 

The fight was mostly one sided, the newly healed elves outnumbering the
intruders. Zanra and Firth finished off the last few, then stood and looked
at each other. "You haven't forgotten what you once knew," Firth said, his
voice now normal and calm. Zanra handed him back the knife she was given. "I
haven't forgotten, and I won't ever forget who I once was. You made this my
home, even when my mother did what she did to make sure that we could get
weapons to the others. On the outside, she was HIS whore. Never on the
inside, " she said, dropping her head. Firth walked to her. "I know. I was
just seeing if you were still hot tempered," he said, laughing. 

The cave was much more friendly when she entered it this time. The fighters
included her in the jokes, making her laugh. Firth sat for a while,
watching. Finally he stood up, raising one hand. "At one time, you stood
with us and led part of us against THEM. Something happened and somehow one
of THEM got ahold of you and you left us. I saw when you took your box out
of it's hiding place, burning the box, but not the contents. That says
something for you. That box could have gotten lots of us in trouble. I trust
that you will not use the contents of the box against us," he said, looking
directly at her. Zanra nodded. "The contents are safe and will be used only
by me. THEY have no need for what was in there, nor will the items fall into
the hands of THEM," she said, nodding. Firth smiled. "Although you are one
of the armor wearers, I name Zanralansana, daughter of Aileansana
Ravensister, one of us." The elves cheered, showing their approval. Zanra
merely nodded. "The secrets of us are safe. I must return before I'm missed.
Quenta solari nen heth y mori my brothers and sisters," she said, leaving
the cave. 

The sun was just beginning to rise as she slipped back into her tent. Mere
moments later the call from the sentries was made to rise and make ready for
travel. Zanra merely smiled and put her armor on. 

As the Solamnics left the forest, Zanra heard the sound from the night
before and smiled, following along. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Nov  3 20:13:06 2010
Subject     Re-awakening

The travelers moved only as fast as the horses pulling the wagons with
supplies. Zanra sat on the horse that she had been given at the head of the
lines, just behind the GrandMaster and the Lord of the Crown. She listened
to everything around her, her elven ears straining to hear what could be
around her. Nothing sounded amiss. In fact, everything sounded like it

She noticed that the fields seemed greener than normal as they traveled.
With a shake of her head, she wondered why plans had changed, but then
again, she had been privy to little of the planning as she had just recently
stepped into her current assignment.

The young half-elf heard something strange and turned her head to look. As
soon as she did, her vision was filled with blood. She slipped off her mount
and stood her ground, for mere moments. She was thrown off her feet by a
blast from a nearby enemy. She landed hard, dropping her shield in the
process. She managed to rise to her feet, dazed and fighting as well as she

Zanra looked around her as she fought, trying to find which direction to go
next. Yet every direction seemed awash with the enemy. Her training and
practice with the skills that defined her as a cleric were not answering her
prayers and her faith in Paladine was seemingly non-existant. She couldn't
seem to actually heal anyone or anything around her. It seemed to her tha
Paladine had forsaken her in this time and place.

A voice in her head belayed her thoughts. "I have not forsaken you, young
one," the male voice said quietly. She darted one way, then the next in her
attempts to fight, but the numbers were overwhelming. 

She dropped to one knee, only to roll out of the way of an incoming attack.
Yet it wasn't enough. She saw her end before her eyes, and dropped her mace
at her side to recieve the killing blow... 

Brilliant light enveloped her. The blow seemed to pass through her and she
blacked out for moments in time.

The light disappeared, and she was on the sand where her journey all began,
water lapping nearby. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled, refusing to
hold her weight. She managed to make her way to her knees and turned her
head from side to side. Instead of the bloody battlefield, she saw others
who had stood on the battlefield beside her, all of them struggling to rise,
and a good many more struggling to make sense of it all. The rush of feet
from nearby, brought her head back toward them. Squires in Solamnic clothes
and the healers who were their allies came toward them, anxious of all the
commotion. Inside her head, the voice seemed saddened. "That was unexpected
and unwarranted, youngling. I gave you a gift. I won't be around to help all
the time. Use it a bit more wisely this time," it said before Zanra's eyes
rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground with a thud.

The sensation of flying was the next thing she felt. Pure and total
weightlessness, followed by an excrutiating pain in her shoulder and neck.
She managed to force one eye open, glancing around her. She was being
carried on a stretcher by squires who had been left for defenses. She tried
to sit up, but a light hand on her shoulder had her dropping back to the
cloth beneath her, exclaiming in pain. "Rest Lady Knight. You need to be
seen by the healers," a voice said from beside her. Zanra shook her head,
again attempting to sit up. This time she managed it, hissing in pain and
frustration. Around her, similar scenes were being replayed.

A nearby healer knelt beside her. Zanra heard the prayers to Mishakal as a
feeling of content and the healer's prayers were answered. Zanra felt her
body lay back down. She closed her eyes, bringing darkness to her mind. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sun Nov  7 04:54:46 2010
Subject     Healing the wounded

Stiffness and a throbbing ache was the first thing that Zanra noticed as
she slowly wakened from her healing sleep. She opened her eyes. The lights
around her were dim. She raised a hand and lifted it to her neck. She felt
the light bandage there. With a careful probe, she felt under the bandage,
assessing her injury. The cut ran from just under her ear to under the light
tunic she wore. She turned her head, looking around at the other injured
people in the beds, all of them bandaged and being cared for. Another glance
showed her that all around her clerics and squires moved meticulously, their
efforts to make the injured better, apparent in their actions.

A nearby cleric noticed her movements and quickly made her way to the
bedside. Zanra lowered her hand to the bed, letting the woman look her over.
After a cursory check, the woman nodded. "How do you feel today, Lady?" she
asks, her fingertips lightly probing the bandage on her neck. Zanra hissed,
but remained still. The woman shook her head. "There's nothing we can do for
the scar that wound is going to leave." Zanra nodded. "It can't be helped,"
she said. With some effort, she managed to sit up. Again she looked at the
cleric. "I'll heal."

She sat back as the cleric checked over her. When the cleric finished with
her ministration. "You can move around the camp, but please, don't cause
more injury to yourself," the cleric said, a stern look on her face. Zanra
smiled shyly and nodded. "Tell me, have all the survivors been healed?"
Zanra asked, glancing around again. The cleric sighed and shook her head.
"We have healed everyone who has allowed us. The only one who has refused
anything we can do has been Lord Lanfer. To this day, he sits outside or in
a small room nearby and refuses to let us heal his wounds," the cleric said.
Zanra shook her head, sighing. "I'll talk to him. He needs to be seen," she
said quietly. The cleric nodded, standing and returning to healing.

Zanra rose to her feet, taking a few moments to gather her balance. With an
unsteady center of balance, she made her way to an area where warm water
steamed in pools. With unsteady hands, she slowly slipped into the water,
biting back the cry of pain as the steaming water hit the sore muscles and
open wounds. Once she got used to the water, she sat back in the highback
tub and closed her eyes, resting and letting the water help with the sore,
stiff muscles. She rose from the water before it got cold. A young squire
brought her a cotton clerical robe. With a smile, she donned it, as well as
simple footwear before she set out into the daylight. Seeing the building
that the cleric had mentioned, she carefully made her way to it. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Nov 17 15:37:15 2010
Subject     Seeker

The tent city was held by a strange eerie silence as the sun peeked over
the horizon. Very few people moved in the early rays of the morning. Zanra
sat quietly on a tall tree branch, her back braced against the bark of the
large tree. She merely sat and watched as the sentries changed and new ones
took their places.

One glance back toward the main healing area showed her that the doors to
the buildings were still closed and, perhaps, those who needed sleep still
grasped the healing that it could do. Her own wounds were all but healed,
still aching if she overused the muscles that had been pulled and injured.

She carefully climbed down from the branch, landing back on the ground. With
a sigh, she walked quietly to her tent and entered it. Allowing her eyes to
adjust to the dim light within, she picked up an empty backpack and started
stuffing things that she should need into it. When she finished, she pulled
a piece of parchment from nearby and quickly penned a note.

Her armor tucked under cloth, she quietly made her way to the GrandMaster's
quarters. With slow, deliberate movements, she slid the note under the door
and made her way out of the tent city and into the forests nearby. 

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