The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Alexander.
A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 65. You change? 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 giant book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Alexander' scribed in rich yellow ink.
Author: Alexander Date: Fri Mar 16 22:34:55 2012 Subject Awaiting the Storm
Alexander dusted the signs of his road weariness from him as he dismounted, walking into the Inn. Years had passed since he had seen his brother, and he felt strangely pensive. What changes had time wrought on Teague, was he still as strong willed and frustrating, was he still the only person who could fight Alex to a draw. Alex had learned hard and fast once he became a squire that he was not as Teague on the other hand, Alex never underestimated him. He was smart, and in a way that led him to manipulate those around him. Alex knew when Teague manipulated him, but he loved his brother and would pretend to be swayed, when he would willingly have done whatever his brother asked. Teague had left when they where in their teens, going the gods only know where. Their mother had secretly given them rings that would summon a messenger owl to send letters between them, insisting that no matter what the world put between them, they should stay in contact. Which is how he knew to meet him at this inn.
Alex poured over the inteligence reports for the umptenth time. If you could call them that. It wasnt as if these Dragon Armies were making any secret of where they were going. The stronger of the two contingents having just smashed the port of Kalaman, while the still imposing lesser flight had been burning a path to Silvanesti. Yet, The Solomnics, his brothers in arms hid in their walls, and did nothing. The time for maps and spies was through. Alex had petitioned his commander for permission to mobilize and repeatedly been denied. So he had put in for his accumulated leave, several months worth, and now he packed up his maps, and his gear and walked to the courtyard where his platoon was waiting, he had called them there with a special purpose. This would be the first time they saw him since he shaved his mustache. He gulped back the anxieties that had come with that decision, but the road he planned to travel would have no place for frivolities, even one with as much history as that. He stepped out of the archway into the sunlight where his men could see him. The sparring and practicing came to a stop. Stepping up onto one of the taller stones he addressed his men. All of you know me, and it is with great anticipation that I tell you, I will be taking Leave of you this day. I have trained beside you, and now I have chosen to undertake a PERSONAL battle. The forces of Darkness are crushing ansalon in its grips. I do not think foolishly that I alone can stop this, but I would forfeit my heritage if I chose to stay behind these walls another night while evil flexed its might at the expense of the innocent. So I have shaved my face and stowed my armor, and I l eave for Silvanesti with the first Mariner boat that will take me. There are no orders, and no legal compulsion for any of you to follow me, but I tell you this, I would rather die a Solomnic Knight, defying evil until my breath is crushed from my body, than to hide like a coward. My ship leaves from Caergoth in 3 days. If I see any of you there, I will gladly welcome you on my journey...
Alexander stood at the crest of the cliff, stroking the neck of this recently acquired stallion. The natives who had traded them had seemingly gifted them to us. Looking back out at the sea, The storm that had ridden behind them, seemed to have pushed them across the sea at breakneck speeds, but never quite caught up. He glanced down the cliff to where 150 men stood gathered, each with a fresh horse, a shaven face, and their armor in bundles, being stowed on the backs of their horses. Ahead of them was the plains of dust. An impossible journey, but then again, This unit specialized in the impossible. He bowed his head in prayer a moment. Paladine, I have never yet received an answer, and yet somehow still I know you hear me. Protect these men so that they can die embracing their great destiny. Guide me, a resolute fool, in this journey to stand against your enemies. If the light we represent must go out, let it blind our enemies with its brilliance in the final moments. He lifted his head, strapped his mace to his back and swung up onto the Stallion. He raised his voice to the ears of his men as the mounted already moving out in a single file line. Paladine guide us to Huma's breast Beyond the wild, impartial skies Grant us a warrior's rest And set the last spark of our eyes Free from the smothering clouds of wars, Upon the torches of the stars. Let the last surge of our breath Take refuge in the cradling air Above the dreams of ravens, where Only the hawk remembers death. Then let our shades to Huma rise, Beyond the wild, impartial skies. Hyah! He spurred his horse to the fast gallop he had been assured they could maintain for days, with only a few hours rest. They have a desert to cross, the impossible to achieve, and for now, all seemed to be with them, be it hastening them to glory, or to worthless deaths at the hands of the merciless, remained to be seen.
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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