An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Zirgad.

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 well written novel on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Zirgad' scribed in unearthly orange ink.

Author:    Zirgad         
Date:      Thu Aug 23 06:56:49 2018
Subject     Discrimination, Rejection, and Acceptance

This is the tale of my youth, a tale of discrimination and rejection,
followed by acceptance. When I was very young, my family travelled between
villages, trading goods with nearby peoples. They often took me with them,
and even as a small boy, I saw many things. I even saw the unequalled
brutality of some of the races in this realm. One day, a huge band of troll
raiders ambushed our caravan. They looted all our supplies and killed more
than half of our group. Whoever they didn't kill, they took as prisoners,
tied up and gagged so we couldn't escape. They splayed our legs out, bound
together in the most uncomfortable and painful of positions. I was their
prisoner for many days, and watched in horror as they brutally slaughtered
one of us every day, consuming their flesh in an elaborate feast. This went
on for some time, one by one we were slain, slowly and agonizingly. On the
second to last day of my captivity, they came for my mother. My father
begged and pleaded with them to leave her and I alone, so they turned their
attention to him instead. As my mother and I watched in terror, they severed
one body part at a time, slowly killing him. First the fingers and toes,
then they would bandage them to keep them from bleeding out. Next the hands
and feet, then another stop gap so they could extend their amusement. One
arm, the other, one leg, then another, another, and the last one, and they
didn't finally put him out of his misery until there was nothing but a head
and a torso left. With one giant swing of his scythe, the troll leader
decapitated my father right in front of my eyes and those of my mother. It
was terrifying, and it made us wish minotaurs weren't so resilient. Then
perhaps he wouldn't have suffered so much. After their feast, the trolls
brought my mother and I a huge chunk of meat. They insisted that we eat it,
but we refused, knowing full well what it was. The trolls insisted, and
force fed us the flesh of my father. They would have killed us if we hadn't
swallowed the meat. That didn't stop them. The next day, they took my mother
from her restraints, held her down, and were even more brutal to her than to
my father. In addition to carving off every extremity, more slowly than they
had done with my father, they fiercely ripped off my mothers horns, then
forcefully impaled her with them. However, even this did not kill her, and
as she shreaked in agony, they told me they would let me go if I took the
finishing blow. I refused, knowing they would likely kill me anyway. I
wasn't going to hurt her, no matter what. I was small and feeble, but she
was so near death that even a small puncture would have finished her off.
Despite my protests, one of the large trolls placed the horn in my hand,
tightened his grip around it, and with my own hand, drove the horn deep into
my mother's heart. After that, he took the horn and drove it into my chest.
Then the gang of trolls left me for dead. As I lay bleeding, a group of
humans found me, a tiny minotaur child about to take my final breath. There
was an apprentice healer among them who patched me up as best as possible
while they carefully tried to move me from the site and summon their most
experienced healer to help. The village healer came and did what he could
for me, but I was unconscious. They took me to the safety of their village,
where the healer looked after me for many days. Finally, after about a week,
I started to regain consciousness, but it would only last a short while.
Then I would lose consciousness again. This happened many times over the
following weeks, with my moments of lucidity becoming longer and longer each
time, until finally I did not pass out again. As I begun to heal, and the
villagers finally realized that I was going to recover from my ordeal, there
was much unrest. The humans had great disagreements on what was to be my
fate. Many of them feared minotaurs, even though they had no experience with
us. They'd heard stories of our vicious attacks and our deadly razor sharp
horns. They believed I would turn on them and go on a wild rampage. However,
the healer and his wife took a liking to me, as did their two children, a
small boy and an adolescent girl. I was well treated by my new adoptive
family, and protected from those who meant me harm. As I grew up, I was
ostracized by the villagers, especially the children. No one wanted to play
with me and I was always an outkast. Even the adults gave me a great deal of
space, and whenever they did need to approach, did so with caution and fear.
I had never harmed a human, and neither had any of my family or anyone else
from my village, but these humans let their distrust and tendency to take
rumor as truth blind them. Nonetheless, for some reason I developed a
fondness for these ignorant humans. They may have hated me, but the feeling
was definitely not mutual. As I got older, the humans started having
problems with nuissance creatures invading their territory. They were too
frightened to stop it, so I stepped in. Later, a group of ogre rogues came
to the village. They insisted that the villagers give them everything they
had. I, with the support of just a few brave men, faced the ogres and drove
them away, never to raid our village again. Finally, a swarm of harpies came
to the village. They instilled great fear into the hearts of the villagers.
I had heard of this band of harpies before. They were a wandering group who
thrived on the stories of other races. If they didn't get their stories,
they would wreak havoc until they did. I hadn't met them in person before,
but my parents, my minotaur parents, had told me stories of them when I was
little. They made for frightening bedtime stories, but at least I knew how
to handle the harpies when they came. In fact, I told them this very story I
am passing on to you now, at least the story before this point. The harpies
were satisfied, and left the village. After several noble feats, the humans
finally started to show me respect and recognition. They no longer treated
me like an outsider, but treated me just the same as any other human,
despite the fact that I had four legs instead of two. They finally realized
I was no threat to them, and that in fact, having me in their village was a
great asset. They told stories and gave praise to my adoptive family for
having rescued me, and the village thrived. When I decided to leave to
embark on my adventures, they gave me encouragement, and told me that I was
welcome to return any time. They also wanted me to introduce them to other
minotaurs, which I did, and a strong bond was forged between them. Now,
these humans and minotaurs live happily in a shared village isolated deep in
a serene forest. Few other races ever come to disturb them, and when they
do, all of the villagers unite to drive them off and protect the serenity
that I helped to create. 

Author:    Zirgad         
Date:      Wed Sep  5 00:53:54 2018
Subject     Fight or Flight

You've heard the story of how I survived my near death experience with a
band of trolls, and performed many noble feats for my adoptive human
village, but that is not the only tale I have to share. One day, after I
united the humans and minotaurs of my region in peaceful coexistence, A
mixed group of explorers, myself included, decided to go exploring in the
mountains. Some were new to adventuring, like me, and believed in the safety
of numbers, so chose to travel in a group. Others were seasoned adventurers,
and knew much of the dangers in this realm, but wished to lend their
expertise to those of us who wanted to test our metal. We trekked for many
days, a few nearly succumbing to frost bite, until we reached a spot in the
mountains we thought would be good to set up camp. The view was awe
inspiring, and everyone made a point to appreciate it. However, what we
didn't realize is that we were being watched. Slowly, we started spotting
the glint from several pairs of eyes all around us. As they slowly
approached, we were close enough to see that there were several terrifying
frost giants encircling us, brandishing enormous clubs. The fight or flight
instinct kicked in for the entire group. Most of the amateur adventurers
tucked tail and ran as fast as they could down the mountain. But the
experienced adventurers knew that if they did not face these fearsome
beasts, the frost giants would only pursue the rest of the group down the
mountain. I was torn as to what I should do. I wanted to flee, but my legs
were locked up tight and wouldn't budge. I couldn't fight alongside them, as
I didn't believe I had the necessary experience. At the last moment, a wave
of adrenaline washed over me and I knew what I had to do. I stalwartly
approached and positioned myself between the minotaur/human defence team and
stared the largest of them in the face. He raised his huge club high into
the air, and in that moment, I knew I had made a mistake. As he begun to
bring it down on my head, a man wielding a mighty flail intercepted the
attack, nearly taking my head off in the process. While I appreciated his
help, I didn't want to get nearly killed in the process. I thanked him for
his help, then promptly raised my sword to meet the giant's weapon. I then
charged at the giant fiercely. However, he came at me once again, and
another parry from the vicious flail deflected the attack once more. I then
realized there was nothing I could do there. I grabbed what I could and left
quickly, just like every other initiate. As I fled for my life, I turned
back momentarily and glimpsed the giant's monstrous club coming down hard on
the flail wielder's head. I felt bad for abandoning him, but glad I had
preserved my own life, as there would have been little or nothing I could
have done. No one knows what happened to the rest of the group, as they
never returned to the village, but everyone assumed that they were all lost
at the brutal attacks of the giants. 

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