An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Aedon.

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 worn tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Aedon' scribed in dull white ink.

Author:    Aedon          
Date:      Sun Dec  6 05:57:28 2009
Subject     A cold day

The winds swept through the fridged temple of paladine as Aedon knelt on
the flagstones. The metal of the symbol of paladine was freezing to his
skin, but still he knelt, relishing the pain for his God. 

From the temple, a priest watched him, slowly shaking his head. Aedon's
worship boarderd on fanatisism. He had once beat a fellow acolyte because of
a dissenting opinion of sacred texts. The priest walked out to Aedon. 

"My son. Day after day, you have tormented yourself. And why? Paladine does
not require such pain-laden devotion."

Aedon didn't even look up.

"But I require it, Father." 

The priest sighed, looking down at Aedon, kneeling in the snow. 

"My son, why do you seek such violence in Paladine's service? surely a life
of healing would better suit the Gods needs?"

Aedon seemed to flinch at the words, although he did not move. 

"There are many who are called to violence by our enemies, Father. Paladine
has called me to right the balance somewhat. The fact that many others serve
him by healing is of no consequence to my actions."

The priest looked out over the fresh snow that coated the grounds.

"And you will not be convinced that your path is contrary to what is right?"


Aedon stared straight ahead.

"No father."

The Priest sighed, and walked back into the temple. Outside, Aedon continued
to kneel in the snow. 

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