The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Cronis.
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 journal on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Cronis' scribed in rich brown ink.
Author: Cronis Date: Thu Oct 26 22:45:26 2006 Subject Death is Only the Beginning Perched atop the rocky crag, Cronis shivered as the chill winds whirled about his broken and naked frame. Dried blood caked his face and body and as his swollen eyes peered skyward from where he lay he thought vague shapes could be discerned flying high overhead, circling him and watching his slow demise with anticipation. Somewhere in his shattered and tortured brain he knew them to be vultures and as they slowly descended to rest at his side he cackled softly in madness, then sighed in relief as one began to pick away pieces of his all but dead body. He was far beyond feeling anything, pain or otherwise, and as another chunk of bicep was torn from him he finaly found the peace he had yearned for in life. Soon it will be over he thought. This unbearable world of pain and suffering will be gone and I will know not but oblivion. Finaly I shall be free. He tried to move against his chain, to make himself an easier meal for the carrion birds and to hasten his end, but the iron links resisted and he had to settle for the pace set by fate. They picked at his arms until only scraps of meat hung from his once magnificent and powerful body then began working on his legs. Gradually the flow of blood slowed as his body's supply ran low and eventually, when the foul birds of prey began to rip into his stomach, his violet hued eyes closed for the final time. He could feel tugging on his intestines but his final thought was simple academic curiosisty about the philosophical implications of one who is aware of his own death as it happens slowly and welcomes it like a dear old lost friend. Time slipped away and he knew naught. Nothing enveloped him, comforted and consoled him, gave him serenity and his long saught after freedom. For the first time in he knew not how long he felt at ease and at home. Strange, he thought. I am dead and gone, yet still I contemplate though all I see and feel is the sweet caress of oblivion. He shrugged inwardly. Not any kind of afterlife he had considered but then again it didn't really matter. Nothing did anymore. After a few minutes, or maybe eons, he began to become aware of something. At first it was just a faint glimmer of sorts, a slightly different shade of nothing. Slowly though it began to lighten and, as he focused his thoughts on it, to coalesce. Suddenly it took form and in a flash brighter and yet somehow darker as well than anything he had imagined a form appeared before him. Instantly he was awestruck at the beauty of it and the nothingness of oblivion was replaced by the divine glory of eternity in the form of the most magnificent being ever seen by a mortal. It was feminine but of indeterminate race. Although seemingly human she somehow exuded and Ogre essence, pure blood Ogre like himself and not the stupid and unthinking brutish nature which held most of his race in thrall. She gazed upon him with compassion mixed with rage, love blended with hate and above all intelligence and understanding. He knew she was aware of his innermost thoughts, hopes, fears and desires. He was an open book for her to read at will. She spoke softly then, her voice a husky, sultry whisper which commanded his attention and admiration. Instinctively he knew her name, knew her to be the Everlasting Queen, Lady of Darkness, Mistress of the Dark and the Liege of his race. "Cronis, do you know who I am ? " she asked simply. "Yes my Queen. I know you. What is your wish ? " he answered. "It is not your time to enter my embrace Cronis. You have tasks yet to accomplish in the Land of the Living. You must return. " she told him. He shivered at the thought. He did not want to live again. Now that he had seen her in all her etherial glory he yearned to sit at her feet for eternity and bask in that divine essence. "That is not to be, yet. This is your task, your legacy. You must bequeath this to the world. Only you carry the old blood from the Age of Dreams. It is your fate, Cronis. ". With that he saw a dream, a Vision, and he accepted it. Author: Cronis Date: Thu Oct 26 23:07:32 2006 Subject Death is Only the Beginning, Finis "As you command, Lady. I live, again, to serve you. " he replied. She smiled upon him and nodded. With a slight gesture, she was gone and he again became aware of the chill wind and pain as the world of life enveloped him again. He sighed and opened his eyes. Looking about he found the vulture gone and he sat up slowly. His body complained with stiffness and pain at the movement but he ignored it. He gazed upon his body and found himself whole again and the enchanted iron chain which had bound him upon this high precipice were broken at his side. A small pack lay at his side and he opened it to find a small store of food, a dagger and a simple silken robe. And one more thing lay in the bag. A small medallion formed of some strange black material. Shaped like a crescent it seemed to absorb the light and yet somehow exuded an odd inky blackness at the same time. And it throbbed, as if to some unknown pulse. He hung it around his neck and it hung upon his chest. He knew the pulse to which it was attuned, and as it rested near his own heart he felt the pulse of Takhisis through his flesh. It warmed him, gave him strength, comfort and warmth. He stood and gazed out over the lands of Ansalon, spread out below him like some child's model. In his mind's eye he saw his Vision. It was incomplete but he knew in time more would be made clear to him as he progressed. He nodded. It is as it should be. Looking out over the landscape again he peered into the distance, into lands unknown and whispered into the wind. "Alright you bastards. It's time. In the name of the Dark Lady, for you I come. " His long strides carried him quickly down the steep slope and he vanished into the forests below. Simple forest creatures were the only witness to his passing and, sensing the Darkness which he carried with him, remained silent and said naught to any of his passage. Author: Cronis Date: Sat Oct 28 11:07:48 2006 Subject Revenge... the Dish Best Served Hot Gazing up the path ahead from within the concealing shadows of the forest edge Cronis waited patiently for the sentries to move and thereby reveal their positions. It took a while but eventually he saw what he was looking for. As he suspected a slight rustle of the bushes near the cave entrance confirmed that there were two guards on duty and with a gesture and a muttered incantation Cronis' eyes tingled slightly. The simple spell allowed him to see through the guard's cloak of invisibility and he could see them now, two very large Ogres armed with serrated glaives. Another simple spell and Cronis vanished from sight. Standing up he made his way towards them, being carefull not to step on any twigs or anything else which might reveal his approach. Once within a few yards he crouched down and waited. An hour went by, then another. Then he heard a noise from within the cave and in a moment two more Ogres emerged to relieve the others. Using the noise of the guard changeover to cover his own footsteps Cronis carefully but quickly walked up and, unbeknownst to the now off-duty guards, followed them into the tunnel which bored it's way into the hillside. The guards he followed soon stepped off the main tunnel into a side chamber where he knew they had a guard station set up but Cronis continued down the main tunnel a way. He knew these tunnels like the back of his hand. After all, this had been his home for many years. He passed by many openings off to either side, each leading to different chambers, and continued on towards his goal. After a few minutes a faint light began to become apparent ahead and as he neared the Chieftain's chamber he stopped and listened intently. Not hearing anything he slowly made his way forward and peered into the dimly lit cavern ahead. There, on a bed of animal hides, lay the Chieftain and two of his whores. Waiting until he certain they were depp asleep Cronis made his way into the chamber, past the bed and to the far end of the room. There he found the chest where the master of this band kept his most valuable booty. Kneeling beside it Cronis gently lifted the lid and, ignoring the glittering gold and bags of coins lifted a tattered old scroll out of the box. Unfurling it enough to confirm that it was the correct parchment he stuffed it into his small pack and began to leave the way he had entered. As he neared the entrance he spied two small casks nearby and, with an evil grin on his face, grabbed one and removed the bung from it. Silently he poured the vile smelling contents in a circle around the bed and them back again to the other cask and over it. Laying the now half empty cask on it's side he nudged it and it rolled across the floor until it bumped into the bed. The Chief stirred in his sleep but didn't wake and Cronis' grin widened. He hadn't planned on revenge but it was an opportunity not to be passed by. Taking a flint and steel from his bag he knelt and struck the two together. A few small sparks flew and hit the powerfull alcohol and instantly it lit. Very quickly a trail of fire made it's way to the bed and before they could awake all three were hidden by a curtain of flame. Cronis quickly made his way down the tunnel and a moment later heard the Chieftain yelling in rage behind him. Footsteps ahead warned him of the approach of guards and he flatened himself against the wall, allowing them to pass without noticing his invisible form. Once they had gone he continued toward the entrance and, as he exited the Ogre den he heard what he had hoped for. While the guards tried in vain to dowse the flames around their Chief's bed the second cask exploded so powerfully it sent a column of fire down the tunnel. As far as he was from the blast even Cronis felt the heat and shock wave. In the chamber itself the blast would most certainly have been lethal. Running full speed he pelted past the entry guards and they, not hearing him pass by due to the sounds from within, moved to enter the warren. Author: Cronis Date: Sat Oct 28 11:33:47 2006 Subject Revenge... the Dish Best Served Hot, Finis Cronis ignored the stupid brutes and made his way back to the concealment and safety of the forest. Not slackening his pace he contiued to run until he felt he had put enough distance between himself and his former family. There he rested for a few minutes and drew forth his prize. It was what he had hoped for. An archaic map annotated in an equally ancient language. He had glimpsed it once before and although none of the Ogres, including Cronis, had been able to read it the scroll was the band's most prized possession for it was a tangible link to their ancient past. Passed down from generation to generation for countles centuries it contained information which led to an item, a weapon, of power. It was the birthright of the Chieftain's bloodline and Cronis, as his son and heir, was determined to lay claim to that heritage. Beside the fact that it was something he had always dreamed of aquiring his Vision from his Queen commanded him to find it. Nodding to himself in satisfaction he returned the scroll to his pack and stood up. Turning his gaze back east towards the den he saw a thin trail of smoke rising from the entrance. "Well, father. Now you have been repaid. I have claimed my right of vengence and my birthright. May Chemosh gnaw on your fetid soul for eternity" A gesture and incantation and Cronis' feet left the ground. He flew swiftly and invisibly above the tree tops and made his way west. He needed to find the one who could read the scroll and he knew where to look. His Vision guided him onwards, towards the city of Palanthas and the Master of the Library there. He knew that, even after Astinus translated the writing that it would take a long time to find his birthright but he knew he would eventually be successful. His Vision told him this was so, and he trusted his Queen implicitly. On through the night he sped, toward his desire and the destiny laid out for him. He mused about his Vision and wondered what form it would take after he found the weapon but what it would be he knew and cared not. All that really mattered was that he served his Liege faithfully. The future would unfold as it must and however it evolved he knew she would guide and protect him. The dark medallion upon his breast pulsed slightly and he knew the Dark Queen knew of his progress and was happy. Her pulse warmed him and he smiled as he flew on. Author: Cronis Date: Tue Oct 31 14:54:00 2006 Subject A Path Revealed Cronis gazed questioningly into the golden depths of his mug as if it were a scrying pool which held the answers he saught. Alas the aged meade stayed silent, denying the young Ogre the knowledge he craved. Sighing slighty he looked up and peered about the smoky chamber. Half a dozen others sat nearby, some quietly and others in subdued conversations. A good place to think, and Cronis had some figuring to do. After a very long trip he had arrived in Palanthas and gone to the Library immediately to make an appointment to see the Master, Astinus. To his surprise instead of having to wait months (as he had feared) he was instead informed that the great historian was expecting him. He was taken to meet the ancient Master and within the hour was out and sitting here, in this run down tavern, sipping a drink and mulling over what he had learned. Astinus had easily translated the scroll, as if the ancient Ogre language were his native tongue. Indeed, it seemed as the scholar read the words that he was more remembering them than reading them, as if he had been present when they were penned. And as he had translated the text aloud Cronis had felt a shiver of recognition run down his spine. He was at a complete loss as to what the riddle had meant but something in it tugged at his mind. He felt as if he knew the answer already but it was so dark his own mind refused to acknowledge it. In their conversation Astinus had seemed to imply (if one were to read between the words) that this was the case. Cronis dredged his mind but could not find what he saught. Raising his mug he drained it, hoping the alcohol would loosen up his too structured mind. While good for wielding magic a mind too rigidly focused is not as yielding to instinct, and Cronis thought that maybe he needed to let go his conscious self in order to allow the knowledge to surface on it's own. Ordering another mug he sat back in his chair and prepared to get comfortably numb. He awoke early the next morning, somehow in his bedchamber above the tavern. Sitting up he winced and goaned aloud. Holding his head in both hands he swung his feet from bed and stood up. Promptly, he fell to his knees as the blood rushed from his head and he almost blacked out. Oh, gods, he thought. What did I do to myself last night ? Slowly, carefully, he got his feet under himself and pushed up gingerly, holding onto the bedpost with both hands. Once vertical he made his way, very slowly, to the washbasin. Being carefull not to drown himself in it he splashed the cool water over his face. The shock woke him completely and he splashed more onto his head and face, feeling more refreshed with every drop. In a minute he felt good enough to try tackling the stairs down to the common room for breakfast. Making sure his moneybelt was still full after last night he opened the door and cautiously made his way down the hallway, aware that the walls were seemingly swaying gently to and fro. Steading himself as he went, he descended to the bar and ordered a light breakfast with plenty of clean, cold water. As he ate he tried to piece together the previous evening. Ah, yes. Alcohol to massage the mind, to allow his subconsciousness to retrieve some deeply buried knowledge. He smiled and chuckled at himself. A silly idea which in the end had only lightened his moneybelt and not his mind. He shrugged and drained his mug of water. With a shock his eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, his gaze fixed on some distant and unseen image. In a flash of intuition and inspiration he saw it. He knew suddenly the first referance point on his ancient map. From there the rest of it made sense. He knew now where he must go, and what the dangers ahead would be. He shivered at the thought but was resolved to make the attempt anyway. Destiny or doom, he knew where the road lay. Now all he need do is walk it. Finishing his meal he quickly paid the innkeeper and ran to gather his things. Within the hour he was on the road, unaware of eyes watching from the shadows. Author: Cronis Date: Wed Nov 1 09:16:32 2006 Subject Changlings, I Cronis sat upon the stony height, resting a moment before descending into the swampy vale barely discernable below. Even with his excellent vision the misty air was an impenetrable wall. Glancing back the way he had come he wondered if his pursuers still followed. They must be there somewhere he thought. He didn't know who or what followed him but they were trackers second to none. Cronis had made this journey invisible and flying but still whoever followed had kept on his trail without faltering. Cronis had cast spells to enhance his vision, to see invisible and hidden objects, but they had remained elusive. Although he hadn't seen them the young Ogre knew they were out there somewhere, probably watching him as he strove to watch them. Looking again down into the vale he thought that maybe this might throw them off his scent. Magic sight or no, that mist was thick enough to restrict any vision to a few feet only. Casting his flight spell again he rose slightly off the ground and descended into the wall of white. Moist, misty tendrills carressed his face and arms and Cronis vanished from sight long before he reached the valley floor. At the bottom he paused and looked behind him for any sign of pursuit but, seeing none, shrugged and continued on his way. Obviously whoever trailed him wasn't interested in attacking or they would have done so already. Probably they wanted to steal whatever it was he quested for he thought. Cronis wasn't exactly sure of the precise nature of his objective, other than that it was a weapon of power, but he knew that once he had found it that no one would steal it from him. Any who tried would pay for their audacity with their lives. Sliding through the air a few feet off the ground Cronis noticed the earth was getting more wet and eventually solid ground vanished to be replaced by a quagmire of a swamp. Somewhere in this morbid, ruined land lay the debris of Xak Tsaroth. Although once famed as a powereful merchant city before the Cataclysm what was not well known is that it had been built upon older ruins and those upon still more ancient ruins. In the past so distant that only a few knew of it the site had been home to his people, the Firstborn, and had only been abandoned after the traitorous Igraine had destroyed their dominance with his pathetic weakness. It was there, deep beneath the merchant city's decaying buildings, that his quest would take him. Night fell and Cronis took refuge in the boughs of a tall tree, one of the few to reach any significant size in this fetid mess. It was hard enough to make out anything in daylight. Traveling by night here was was asking for disaster. He slept lightly and when the sun rose he descended again into the mist and continued, all the while wondering if the swirling mist might reveal the presence of his pursuer. So far it hadn't but eventualy everyone makes a mistake. All Cronis needed was for them to make one error. Two days passed in that quagmire and just as he was beginning to wonder if the swamp had swallowed the ruins completely Cronis found his first clue. A shattered stone column rose like a silent finger from the murly water. As he neared it Cronis could see it was covered in carved script and upon investigating recognised it as an old human dialect. He couldn't read it but knew it meant that Xak Tsaroth was nearby. The ground here was barely beneath the water's surface and carefull examination revealed the remains of an ancient paved road leading into the swamp. Deciding that this either led to or from the ruins he chose a direction and began to follow it. As he went the ground rose slightly and the road emerged from the swamp to continue into some small trees ahead. Rising higher into the air he crossed over the stunted trees and saw a ruined courtyard below. Flanked by the ruins of once fine buildings he knew he had finaly found the site.
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