The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Zhaok.
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 large book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Zhaok' scribed in light grey ink.
Author: Zhaok Date: Mon Jan 8 22:20:14 2018 Subject The Dwarf in Schallsea (Cyklop PK)
Zhaok strode down the sidewalk, his steps thudding unevenly as he awkwardly limped along, glaring at the local populace of the seaport for no particular reason. Many shied away from him, though it wasnt due to his diverse heritage - other minotaur could be seen occasionally through the busy port. It was the way he moved, clumping angrily along, muttering softly and glowering that put them off. His unusual gait was a result of a previous battle that left his leg twisted and mutilated, constantly aching and swollen. Hed like to blame his poor disposition on the pain of that old injury - but that would be a lie. As far back as he could remember, hed simply been a mean cuss. He took to fighting and drinking young, and he was covered with injuries, old and new, as a result. Though he didnt cut an imposing figure due to his short stature (for a minotaur, at least), his twisted and broken body was a clear indicator that he didnt back down from a fight, no matter the odds. Odds are for sissies who liked numbers. Zhaok just liked to bash heads, and he was damn good at it. He couldnt even remember the name of this port, and his head ached when he tried too hard - Shelby or Sellsheet or Bellsea, something like that - but he didnt really care. He was still a bit foggy from the spirits the night before, and heading down to the docks to see if there was work to pay for more drink. He had two giant blades, shaped like cleaves, hanging from his belt. They were clearly too large for such a holster, and dragged loudly across the ground with each step. As he was stumping along the boardwalk, he caught a whiff of something rank. Sniffing a few times, he idly lifted his arm and inhaled. Yep - it was him. He shrugged as he continued his walk, missing the disgusted look of a passerby, but - due to his investigation of his own foul odor - he didnt notice a short, stocky figure that was in his path, and he barreled over the figure, stumbling and falling to his knees with a loud grunt. Nostrils flaring, he whipped his head around and caught sight of the dwarf that hed ran into. "Oi! Ye should watch where yer headed, ya little rat!" Zhaok rumbled loudly - not bothering to consider that he had been the one that ran into the dwarf. Rearing back, he smashed his fist in the the face of the unsuspecting creature who had been looking at Zhaok in surprise after the tumbled. Blood splattered as his fist blasted into the bulbous nose of the dwarf, and it tumbled backwards, reaching for its weapons. With a bestial grin, Zhaok did the same. He rose to his feet, the familiar heft of his unusual blades comfortable in his grip. The dwarf watched him warily, blade ready to strike. Without heed to his own safety, Zhaok raised both blades high and leapt at the smaller combatant. Seeing the opening, the dwarf struck soundly, his blade slipping post the motley armor on the minotaurs chest. The blade dug into the enraged creatures shoulder, leaving a wicked gash - yet he saw his mistake in an instant. With a howl of primal rage, Zhaok brought both blades down in a flurry of blows before the dwarf had an opportunity to bring his weapon back to a proper defensive position. Metal clanged loudly as the massive blades pummeled the armor of the dwarf, the sheer force of the strikes driving the smaller combatant to his knees. Immediately attempting to struggle to his feet, the dwarf raise his blade to parry the next downward swing of the huge blades. Just in time to catch a massive, mutilated and swollen hock right in the face. He flew backward from the force of the blow, blasting through a pile of crates and tumbling to the ground. Battered and bloody, he turned and ran, his short - but powerful - legs propelling him down the street. "OI! I AINT DUN WIT YOU YET, RAT!" Zhaok bellowed, his larger stride - uneven as it was - able to quickly close the distance between himself and the dwarf. With a roar, he jumped onto the dwarf, sending both tumbling. Using his larger frame to his advantage, Zhaok rolled atop the dwarf, dropping his blades, and began pounding away with his fists until the red began the leave his vision. With a grunt, he rose to his feet and - eerily calm - retrieved his dropped blades. Blood ran down his raw fists, and his shoulder was bleeding profusely. The small figure groaned loudly on the ground, battered but alive. Zhaok looked at him, tilting his head. His mind was always clearer after a good fight, and the ache in his head was all but gone. It would be back, soon enough, and hed have to satiate it again. With a shrug, he turned and stumped down the street, dripping blood. There was still time enough in the day to make a few coins at the docks if he was lucky, and the day was already off to a great start.
Zhaok stumbled drunkenly through the forest floor, trying to remember where he was. The last he could remember, hed been pulling guard duty on a smuggling ship carrying dwarven spirits, brought from a small village near the dwarven kingdom of Thorbardin. The job was boring but at least there was free food. After securing the illicit cargo, the ship was halfway back to the larger seaports - where the valuable cargo could be offloaded to interested buyers - when the captain had a temper tantrum and ordered the crew to throw Zhaok overboard. He offered some resistance as the mob had swarmed him, but - unwilling to release his hold on the moderate keg hed been in the process of consuming - hed had to make a difficult decision. Fight to stay on board, or fight to keep ahold of the booze. Several minutes later, as he hugged tight to the floating barrel, he figured he had made the right decision. As the ship disappeared into the horizon, the curses of the crew finally fading to the lapping of waves, Zhaok clumsily lashed the barrel to his back. He was thankful that the small vessel had stayed near to the shore, where it could quickly take advantage of its shallow draft and anchor in a small cove should pirates or storms threaten. After nearly an hour of drunken kicking, he was able to slog to shore, hauling the huge barrel behind him. Without any idea of where he was or what direction to head in, he randomly started off into the woods. Hes pause occasionally - frequently - to take pulls off the cask. Things got a little blurry there - he wasnt sure how many days passed, but after the cask had ran dry, he started to come to his senses a little bit. Which was unfortunate, because his head really, really hurt. And when his head hurt, his normally unpleasant disposition grew much, much worse. Stumbling around the forest of massive trees - the largest hed ever seen, that he could remember - he finally saw some signs of civilization. He staggered towards it, his swollen leg dragging noisily as he hobbled through the light undergrowth. Coming around the edge of one tree, he saw the small figure of a dwarf, its back to him. "I hates dwarves," he muttered to himself. "I hates emm more when me damn head hurts so much." At his gravelly muttering, the dwarf started and turned towards Zhaok, the blade in his hands already wet with blood. Instincts kicked in as Zhaok saw the flashing blade, and with a road he jumped forward, swinging wildly at the dwarf. The blow connected with a loud thud, and the dwarf slumped to the ground, unconcious. It was at this point Zhaok saw that the dwarf was already battered and bloody, clearly having been in battle recently. Head still pounding, Zhaok shrugged. "Oi, at least ye got a good fight in. Me damn head still hurts like the Abyss." With a sigh, Zhaok turned and wandered through the woods further. There had to be a tavern around here somewhere. (Jumped Agelmar in Solace a few days back, didn't see he was already banged up. Sorry!)
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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