An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Ashea.

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 private journal on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Ashea' scribed in blue ink.

Author:    Ashea          
Date:      Sat Dec  6 18:36:53 2008
Subject     A fiery beginning

The nightfall descended stealthily upon the spired towers of Silvanost. A
single candle remained lit in the chambers of the House Lorendien at this
late hour. A young elven apprentice by the name of Ashea was busy packing
his belongings for a lengthy trip to the place of his dreams -- the High
Tower of Sorcery. Every decade or so, the esteemed House found it fit to
release one of its own to learn the ways of magic such that the chosen one
may return to lead the House in the future. Needless to say, only the best
were annointed and Ashea fully expected that it would be his honor this time
around. He had worked hard for this grand appointment.

The young Ashea crept out of his room with his crumpled linen backpack and
walked briskly to his father's chambers. The announcement will be made any
time now and he wanted to be ready for it. He knelt beside the door of the
chambers and waited with great trepidation. Eighty whole years of endless
study has finally met its fruition. 

"Talen, first-born of Oriel, you are summoned as the 104th representive of
the House Lorendien to the High Tower of Sorcery," a passionless voice
boomed through the hallways. Ashea's eyes first widened with surprise, which
slowly descended to unbridled hurt and hate. He knew that his father
favoured his first-born over him, but to this extent? Talen could hardly
muster an armor spell without bleeding out of his nose, much less ascend in
the complexities of the higher arcane. He watched with teary eyes as his
father appeared out of his chambers with a smug Talen, a backpack
embroidered with the coat of arms of the House slung neatly over his
shoulder. They have been expecting this. It was planned way before this
day.

Fuming with anger and blinded with his depthless disappointment, Ashea
reached out his hand and grabbed his elder brother, meaning to render a
forceful uppercut. But the magic that Ashea once controlled so diligently no
longer had a sober master. Talen and Oriel of the House Lorendien caught
fire as quickly as a dry bush. Through the chaos and the painful screams,
Ashea grabbed Talen's backpack and the sealed letter addressed to the High
Tower of Sorcery and took flight. An invisibility spell and a conjuring of
magical haste. Ashea left quickly into the night.

---

That was the situation as it was five years ago and I still search for the
High Tower amongst the lonely vallenwoods. My hands carress the now faded
seal on the letter I once stole and... is that an opening in the woods I
see? I smile wryly to myself and stepped in. They have found me. 

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.'