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 80. 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 small book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Ashea' scribed in grey 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 869 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'