An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Brynn.

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 'Brynn' scribed in deep maroon ink.

Author:    Brynn          
Date:      Thu Sep  2
16:54:08 2010
Subject     traveling the past

Soft,
silken strands of darkness danced upon the lands,
heavenly
orchestra by beast and insect danced upon gentlest
breeze. Accompany by
gentle brook, and winds faint touch beauty
lay all around. Lay and was for a
time lost to spinning form.
Present future all failed to exist as lithe body
twirled in
complex arts. As staff danced and sang its soft song, and
feet
flashed in fluid arcs. Mind itself lost in the swirling
chaos of what had
been, in words spoken long ago. Lifetimes for
those that had told the story,
yet to the listener a blink of a
slightly tilted sapphire and emerald eyes.


Though watchers eyes
could see the tall, lithely muscled form, could watch
the silken
waves of blue black hair dance and spin. See the ripple
of
tattooed flesh, none could follow down the minds path he
traveled. Again he
stood naked kneeling in snow, and ice the bite
of mountain air the breath of
a white dragon. Numbing mind and
flesh, raising goose pimples and tinting
brown skin to blue.
Again the old man stared down at him sadly shaking his
head, his
voice a s Again he stood naked kneeling in snow, and ice the
bite
of mountain air the breath of a white dragon. Numbing mind
and flesh,
raising goose pimples and tinting brown skin to blue.
Again the old man
stared down at him sadly shaking his head, his
voice a soft sweet lullaby
filled with encroaching
disappointment. Brynn why must you turn your
thoughts to the
past. you ever ask about your mother and father. I know not
no
more today then what I did yesterday, or the day before. Perhaps
a few
more hours in the cold will help focus your mind on the
task ahead, and not
what lays shrouded in mystery. please master
just once more tell me how you
found me. What my mother looked
like. Oddly deep for age and race Brynns
voice carried a hint of
sorrow, and double dose of pain. Sighing heavily a
fond smile
creasing the line flesh the old monk spoke again twas night
cold
and dark a storm was brewing and I like have done for many
years was upon
the road. Traveling when I came upon a the scene
of a fierce battle. Goblins
and there ilk lay strewn about some
to many eyes uninjured yet dead none the
less. I took my time
looking at each and found the mark that many would over
look.
Twas while bending over I heard a faint cry, soft and sweet. T
The cry
of a newborn infant, I searched slowly and found you
within the bushes,
still attached to the body of a slender elf
maid. Wounded she was grievously
yet still breathing after
fighting and birthing. Her skin was soft as silk
and brown as the
nuts you continually gorge yourself on. Hair blue black
dark as
night and eyes that glowed with merriment behind the fog of
pain.
Her voice was so sweet the gentle babble of a brook, she
asked me to look
out for you to take care of you. When I agreed
and had taken you into my
arms and wrapped you in my cloak she
smiled like the dawning of the sun and
passed. There now get back
to your task you ungrateful wretch or I shall
have you digging
and filling holes for the rest of the day! The old monk
smiled as
the elf child leaped swiftly to his feet and raced across snow
and
ice to the monastery that was their hom There now get back to
your task you
ungrateful wretch or I shall have you digging and
filling holes for the rest
of the day! The old monk smiled as the
elf child leaped swiftly to his feet
and raced across snow and
ice to the monastery that was their home. Wonder
filled him as he
watched the child snatch clothes and don them seemingly
without
breaking stride. Within the present brynn twisted and turned
dodging
foes only he could see, knowing that upon the morrow he
would be leaving his
home, would begin a quest long in the
making, and one he and the Master had
decided needed fulfilled.
Seeming simple yet how could one know themselves
with such a
gaping whole in their existence. 
(sorry half asleep and brain
not working)

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 868 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'