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 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 dirty book showing much wear on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Ashea' scribed in unearthly green 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 sighs as he recants 'We saved 868 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'