An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Bromen.

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 massive tome lined with fake jewels on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Bromen' scribed in vibrant blue ink.

Author:  Bromen
Date    Fri Dec  3 06:32:20 2001

Subject Goblins!



A piercing light stabbed into his eyes, forcing him to slam them
shut with a
grimace. The aching in his head had dulled to a dull throbbing,
with only an
occasional sharp piercing that lanced through his skull with a
fire's edge.

With an agonizing slowness, he forced his lids to part, the light
creasing his
mind though as something long forgotten. As the hazy blur began
to form into
an image, he became aware of a nauseating stench that was
threatening to force
his bereft stomach to attempt yet another purge.

After the sensation passed, a vague awareness began to
reestablish itself in
his mind...

He had been crouched on a bluff overlooking the gates to
Thorbardin...
Something of great importance, what.. was it. A wash of pain
overtook him.
With a steely grimace he fought the red haze.

All was dark, yet his eyes open. Gradually his eyes adjusted to
the lack of
light, nightfall had come.

Goblins! That was it, goblins he recollected the bluff again.
Campfires
burning, the stench of goblinkin, the army ready to move toward
his beloved
Palanthas..

He recalled the cracking of a twig behind him, a guttural
voice... Turning, he
had glimpsed a huge form towering over him, the light of his lord
Solinari had
illuminated the terrible face of his attacker Then a blinding
flash and
darkness...

"I must get back to warn them, if it isn't already too late..."
he whispered
to himself.

Shoving the putrid corpse off his prone form, he recognized the
face of the
stench through the carnage... "Dear lords, Pandrogas my old
friend... You
weren't as lucky." he winced.

How long have I laid here in death's cold embrace? he pondered.

I must return to warn them...

He crawled his way out of the gulch with a shudder and quietly
crawled to the
edge of the bluff. Below him, the campfires long gone, a
stillness held the
air.

Fumbling through his pouches he finds the small glass ball and
removed it.
Uttering the words, 'xafe ay candusqarr'. A small distortion to
his senses and
he stands before a glassy pool.

"Home, what a sight for these sore eyes." he mutters.
"Now to find Kestren, I must warn him."

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.'