An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Dyranel.

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 leather bound tome with glowing glyphs on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Dyranel' scribed in rich orange ink.

Author:          Dyranel
Date    Mon Dec 19 22:02:29 2005
Subject  Dark Ambitions

 Shadows crept across the land as the sun dipped slowly behind the 
horizon, the red moon shaded the land a light red as Lunitari appeared as 
nothing more than a crescent.  Dyranel slipped through the moaning trees as 
the wind creaked through the branches and breezed lightly upon his face.  
Upon reaching a valley, Dyranel knew he was getting close to his 
destination.  Peering through the darkness he could barely make out the end 
of the mountain range southeast of bloden, near the border of Silvanost.  
Knowing he must keep a wary eye out for would be elven watchmen, he stands 
behind a tree staring out for many moments just scanning the field.   
 
 
Finnally, Dyranel ducks down and charges into the tall, waving grass.  
Having not seen anyone he moves quickly hoping to reach the shadows of the 
mountains before it is possible for anyone to see him.  Needing to reach an 
outpost as the watches begin, knowing that would be his best chance to see 
the elves in the light of a fire before they ventured out to make their 
hourly rounds.  Certain traits must be seen before he can complete his quest 
he has set out to complete tonight, a quest that he has completed many 
times, and has only gotten harder because of his diligence.   
 
 
The shadows of the range washed over him, and he arose from beneath the 
cover of the grass, looking around he spotted a flickering glow near the 
base of a foothill rolling beside the mountain range.  Moving quickly in its 
direction it did not take Dyranel long to reach a point where he could see 
figures moving about the embers of a large bonfire.  Creeping as close as he 
dared, so as to not create a noise for the elves to hear and cause alarm, he 
stooped down low and rested upon a knee leaving his eyes just above the 
height of the grass and waited for his oppurtunity to arise.   
 
 
Looking closely he could see that there were only two elves that he had 
deemed unsuffice for his plans, as his luck it looked as though both of them 
would be staying at the camp.  Although, instead of sending out one of their 
number at a time, they were sending two of them out to do the watch round.  
Uncommon for the usual night, but they must be attempting to stop the 
disappearances of their watchmen.  Pulling a long dagger from his belt, he 
gripped it tightly in one hand.  The cords wrapped about the handle of the 
dagger gripping nicely in his great palm, he watched the elves walk away 
from the camp and become encompassed by the darkness.  Quickly glancing back 
at the camp before he made his way to follow the two elves.   
 
 
They walked slowly, bantering to each other heartily, as though they lacked 
worry about the disappearances previous to that which would soon be their 
own mishap.  Waiting for the perfect moment, Dyranel quietly padded along 
behind them until finally one of the burst out in laughter apparently at 
what the other had said.  Dyranel quickly lunged forward thrusting his 
dagger through the neck of the elf that had been laughing so happily and 
wrapping his enormous hand over the mouth of the other elf.  The laughing 
had become nothing more than a distraught gurgling as blood rushed warmly 
down the blade and over the hand of Dyranel.  The other elf squirmed in 
distress, trying to scream through the giant paw that nearly smothered his 
face.  Slightly twisting the dagger before wrenching it from the bleeding 
elf, he raised it above his head and gave a good swing knocking the elf atop 
the head with the hilt, knocking him unconcious.  Looking down he saw that 
the elf he had stabbed was still looking on in terror, Dyranel smiled at him 
before lugging the unconcious elf up over his shoulder and walking back 
toward the forest from whence he had come...   
 
 

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.'