The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Jendaron.
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 paper booklet on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Jendaron' scribed in glowing blue ink.
Author: Jendaron Date Mon Apr 22 16:39:13 2002 Subject The Summoning A frail looking black robed mage sat in his study. He read and read. Books of Necromancy and Conjuring, books with a blueish hue. These were my books, given to him by Trekos. This was the begining. I died 113 years ago to the hands of Khyldes and Terlyn, Red Robes of the Conclave. I betreyed their order and joined the dark one, Nuitari. I had become powerful in the time i had been upon Krynn. I died on a summer night, before the halls of the Tower of Wayereth. I lay there in a slump of Red and Black. The two colors that had caused all the concern. The mage continued to pour himself into the books. He read as is possessed by a demon. A draconian entered his room. Before he could speak the mage fell in a pile of black. When he arose Jendaron stood in his stead. The draconian spoke of illusions and tricks, he did not know the truth. Part of me had been summoned. I remained, in pergatory in the Abyss for over 100 years. Hidden... Forgotten. The mage, who read from my books, reactivated my powers. He called me from the Abyss. I inhabitied his body with my spirit for the time. The mage died protecting a member of his order to a Knight of Takhisis. He fell in a slump and my spirit was released to inhabit the body of another. I chose the newborn child of a human couple. I entered into his body, this time allowing it to be my own. The mage was my grandson, Buesephelus. I am the mage Jendaron. We carry the Mer-Kel bloodline. I have returned to the face of Krynn. Donning the Robes of Black, I bide my time until my untapped power is released. Krynn shall see a darkness that it has never before known. Author: Jendaron Date: Thu Sep 7 00:11:35 2006 Subject A Ritual Sacrifice. The young messenger traveled far and wide, in search of the person his assignment was to be delivered to. The mage, Jendaron, of the black robes. Word had it that he had been missing for several days, and this particular messanger had search through Palanthas, New Thalos, Gerighelm, Vingaard, and the High Clerist area. After an exhausting week, the messanger nearly gave up, when he made one last stop, the principality of Thelgaard. As he traveled toward the town, he noticed an acrid odor. The smell of burnt flesh and battle. As the messenger went further into town, towards the castle of Thelgaard, he noticed the town was completely silent, and completely empty. As he walked down the road, he man noticed that each door in the town was closed, the windows were shut, and all lanterns were extinguished. This was odd, considering the fact it was early evening, and had turned dark nearly minutes ago. As the man entered the keep, and headed towards the throne room, he found a ghastly site. A true abomonation, that would cause even the gods to cringe. Spears, used by the knights of Solamnia had been inverted, and forced into the ground by an inhuman force leaving the spiked ends facing upwards. The Lord of Thelgaard was atop those spikes, each limb held by one speak, as well as one through his stomach and another through his groin. This however was not the fearsome part, for the Lord of Thelgaard had been disemboweled. His stomach was sliced open, skin hanging from the sides as blood dripped down. His eye following the blood, saw what lay below. Each of the Lord of Thelgaard's organs had been left sitting below him. Stomach, lungs, heart and liver. The sight of this instantly made the messenger vomit and run from the scene of this ghastly horror. Running in and out of each house, the scene was the same. The man was killed and hung upside down by a hook in the ceiling. The wife was found nude and bloody, beaten to death obviously. And any children, lay fast asleep in their beds by magical spells, left alive only to be forced to see the dead parents that lie in the main rooms. Unsure of what to do, or where to head, the messenger left back outside of town. He overheard breathing as he passed by a temple of Paladine, hard breathing, troubled and sounding as though it was gurgled, like blood in the throat. As he entered the temple, the man was shocked to find something worse than the Lord's death scene. A cleric of Paladine had been placed upon a crucifix, tied up to it with the white robes of the good clerics who inhabit the town. The man had been left underneath flame apparently, he had been burned severely. His eyes, a type of liquid good, nearly oozing out of the sockets. The man walked up to the cleric, tears streaming down his face. The cleric moved ever so slightly, though the messanger believed it to be a hallucination. Speaking only to himself and not expecting an answer, the messanger asked himself "Who could do a thing such as this?" The cleric opened what was left of his charred eyeleds and let out a final gurgle. He managed to sputter the word "Jendaron," from his blackened lips. A horrible gasp, and a small spasm was all that remained of the cleric. The messenger quickly exited the town, and headed north for Palanthas, where he could contact the knights of Solamnia and the countryside's guard to help clean up the town. No one has seen Jendaron since two days before this incident, and no one knows of the message this man had for him. Though the messanger wondered to himself, perhaps Jendaron already knew the contents of the message, the question it contained. And perhaps the world had seen its answer. Author: Jendaron Date: Thu Sep 7 16:10:47 2006 Subject The Howl of a Wolf No one had seen him in days, his bed remain perfectly made. The Archmages had searched for him, using powers of scrye and gate, but each time failing to reach him. They knew not where he was or whether he was safe. Inside his room, tucked deep away in the basements of the Tower of Wayreth, a mystery began to unfold. Jendaron's room is plain, non-descript, you would not be able to discern his room from any initiate or apprentice, though he had recently become a Master. The door swung open as the Archmage Ralmus entered the room. Finding it empty, hoping to find Jendaron, Ralmus was dismayed to see the nearly abandoned looking quarters. "Where the hell could he be, rumor has it he went mad in Thelgaard and apparently he's wanted by Takhisis' knights for assault on one of their Lily Knights as "Where the hell could he be, rumor has it he went mad in Thelgaard and apparently he's wanted by Takhisis' knights for assault on one of their Lily Knights as well," Ralmus muttered the words not knowing he even spoke. At that exact same moment, Jendaron was in Neraka. Having first stopped in Palanthas, he managed to nearly murder a Lily Knight of Takhisis before he traveled off, disappearing into a rift to the unknown. That rift, which no one else saw but the injured knight, led directly to Neraka, the city of evil and former home base of the Knights of Takhisis and her Dragonarmies. Author: Jendaron Date: Sat Sep 23 20:03:59 2006 Subject Culmination of a Purpose "Welcome to the jail of the conclave of mages, renegade." Jendaron spoke in a cynical manner. This sentance would be spoken three more times on this day before the sun would set upon Krynn. The black robed mage had used his powerful charming magic and acts of persuasion to lure the renegades into trusting him. The three mages, Kanon, Xithious and Arikaih all were members of the Knights of Takhisis, an order infamous for conflict with the Wizards of High Sorcery. "Each of you will be tried before the Wizard of High Sorcery, with members of each order present, there you will either be punished for you renegade crimes, or may opt to leave your renegade ways and join the Order of High Sorcery under the laws of arcane magic" Jendaron looked deeply into the eyes of each mage, hoping to see perhaps a change from the ways of a renegade. The trial ensued and the mages remained unwilling to conform to the laws of the arcane, therefore each was punished accordingly and released into the Forest of Wayreth, to wander aimlessly and die to the horrible monsters that call that place home. "You are now to be known as Archmage, second in charge of the Black Robed Wizards of High Sorcery," Ralmus spoke with a raspy voice. The promotion was a result of the capture of the renegades, even though they were unable to be converted to members of this conclave of mages. Jendaron now understood his powers and also understood his goal. He wanted to destroy the Knights of Takhisis, and end the renegades and their harbor once and for all. Author: Jendaron Date: Sat Sep 23 20:26:26 2006 Subject The Search The black robed man arrived in Tarsis in the late hours of the night on the Day of Soldai, the 2nd day of the month H'rarmont. The year was 386 and the man had arrived to realize a vision brought about long ago. The city of Tarsis had once been the place of great plans, which had never been executed and lay in wait since the Time of Light in the Age of Dreams. Dreams that lie awaiting fulfillment and realization. Jendaron arrived in a small Inn, and rapped quietly on the door hoping to gain entrance and shelter for the evening. A man huddled in a wool cloak opened the door quickly and ushered Jendaron inside. After a small conversation and the passing of a silver coin, Jendaron headed to a small room with a cot and a window for the evening. The light of the two moons glowed brightly in the sky, illuminating the room and dissatisfying the archmage. With a quick thought, the mage opened his eyes widely and the darkness of the black moon flooded inside of the room, swallowing the red and white light in the darkness. In the morning Jendaron headed towards the north gate of Tarsis, passing unbeknownst to the guards, a testament to his ability to blend in. Northwest of the town, through a deep forest before the beginings of Southgate, there was a plot of land unseen by human eyes for nearly a thousand years. This was the secret location of the planned Seventh Tower of High Sorcery, the tower of Tarsis. The plans fell through in the Age of Dreams and the tower laid, forgotten and asleep, beneath the sandy ground deep within a forest. This cursed forest was known as the Forest of Ith'Litar, though its name had never been spoken by any living man. The way was discovered by Jendaron when a journey brought him to an ancient text which refered to the buried tower. This book gave him not only the directions, but also instructions on how to revive a ruined or abandoned tower. In this case however, this would be the birth of a tower, for the Tower of Tarsis had never once risen. Protecting Ith'Litar's dark forest are Aeterna trees, which are known for their peculiar charectoristics. The trees grow only in the light of the moons of Krynn, and give off a strange fragrant odor, known to cause extreme sleepiness in the feebleminded and great confusion in the dangerous and unwanted. The trees were also an attractor of lightning, causing a rainstorm to arrive almost hourly each night, though the skies above Tarsis would remain calm. Anyone seeking entrance without the want of this tower's master, would not only face the odor released by the tree itself, but also the lightning and sound barraging them. Jendaron stood before the edge of this forest, on sandy ground where the tower lied buried beneath. The work would begin to raise this tower, and Jendaron would be the master of this tower, for it would play a pivotal role in his plans for the Knights of Takhisis. Weeks turn to days, days turn to hours, and hours turn to moments as Jendaron awaits the tower's rise from the depths of sand and stone. Author: Jendaron Date: Thu Jun 19 21:02:18 2008 Subject Life of an Archmage A few short weeks after leading a meeting of the Wizards of High Sorcery, the High Archmage set out to complete his next task. Something to possibly change the face of Krynn, yet again. Hours and hours of work went into each assignment, as slowly but surely mage after mage. Young and weak as well as powerful and wise mages offered their services in the quest to correct the ... rift. Each assignment was given out based upon both rank and qualification, Jendaron certainly didn't want to send any poor mage to his or her death, but neither did he want to bore the powerful ones with menial tasks. Quickly he wrote each scroll in the language of the wizards, so that if they had fallen into the hands of another they would be indecipherable. Hours and hours passed through the night as an entire candle burned away. The archmage looked up from his work and though to himself 'Surely this is worth the effort, not only does Nuitari guide me in these works, but all the moons.' He reached into the desk his sat before and retrieved another aromatic candle, blessed with the shavings of a mogwort's scale. It relaxed him from the tensions of his duties as well as cleared his problematic sinuses. As he spoke a quick word of summon a black imp appeared in his quarters, 'Yessssss master?' 'These are to go to the different mages of the Conclave whose names are etched onto the respective scroll, this is of utmost important.' The archmage nodded quietly at the creature and handed him a small satchel filled with 12 scrolls. It walked silently out the room and begun its task of doling out the assignments. 'There is a rift in our powers, I believe it to be caused by a renegade uprising in the northern lands.' The mages, young and old looked on as Jendaron spoke of the alteration in the powers of magic he had felt, that he believed to be caused by either a band of powerful renegades or a mage from another plane of existance draining the powers of the moons. 'It is not the duty of a Conclave mage, but a nescessity for our survival. We must become more powerful.' Jendaron left the fruition of his plans unknown to many of the mages, only a select few, those who had chosen to participate in the assignments, as to his full intentions. The Conclave of Mages would indeed be powerful again, and Jendaron would have his hand in it for certain. Author: Jendaron Date: Thu Jun 19 21:14:18 2008 Subject Life of an Archmage II Jendaron thought back to years ago, a time in the High Clerists Tower.... Arcs of lightning unleashed from the Taskmage's fingers, penetrating the chest of the local guards who screamed horrible cries of pain as they lie shaking in pain upon the ground. 'Why do you do this to us you horrible wizard!' the only remaining guard screamed as he fell to his knees praying to some pitiful holy entity. Jendaron's only response to the man's cries for mercy was a bit of pitch rolled in his fingers and tossed in the man's direction. The small black ball quickly turned to a red ball of flame. The man's eyes glowed red as the ball approached and smashed into his face. The eyes that glowed red now boiled and exploded as the fireball torched his face. 'I do this in Nuitari's name, his curse be upon you!' Jendaron slowly stood up from his desk in the quarters of the High Archmage. Shaking his head he constantly had flashbacks of the hundreds of murders he had comminted over the 45 years of his life. In his younger days he had understood less the true power of Nuitari's blessing and instead plagued the land with a curse of violence. Only upon achieving the rank of archmage did entrance to the shrine of Nuitari give him the enlightenment he needed to control the violence, and the magic, to his own whims instead of his lords. Quickly the high archmage left the tower of the black robe mages and begun a long and arduous walk to lands far away. His mission was secret, and unknown to all but a fellow archmage, Leodas. His search for an ancient spellbook would bring him several places throughout the lands of Abanasia, including the islands far north of Krynn. Perhaps in these lands would he find access to the ancient and powerful spells he saught to grasp in his own mind. His travels first brought him deep into the ruins of Xak Khalan, where he found himself stalking the largest green dragon he had ever seen. A cloud of green mist that choked all but the most powerful of lungs surrounded a towering form that must stand over fifty feet tall. The pitiful looking by comparison six foot man stood trembling slightly before this massive being, but spoke a word of prayer to Nuitari and his eyes began turn a darker color. The whites of his eyes began to glow a grey color as his iris' glowed a midnight black. The blessing of Nuitari was upon him. The battle between dragon and mage would be an epic one indeed. Author: Jendaron Date: Thu Jun 19 21:25:53 2008 Subject Life of an Archmage III The dragon had been a worthy opponent, Jendaron's robes were torn slightly on the right side and his bicep's tendon had been torn, leaving his main hand useless for all except for magic. The dragon on the other hand lay dead before him, his powerful draconian magic had proven to be quite alot for the archmage, yet still he had prevailed again. At this point he wasn't quite sure what had kept him alive, the white aura of protection he had focused upon himself, or the blessing of Nuitari that thwarted the poisons that certainly would have killed him given his condition. The man quickly did what he needed with the dragon, disecting his corpse to retrieve his liver, stomach and heart, as well as skinning his hide from the most prized part of his body, his chest. He removed the eyes, the teeth and the tongue of the dragon, speaking words of magic to create containers of appropriate size and then shrinking them to fit into his pocuhes. Finally he removed the tail of the dragon, below the spike, where it could be brewed into something useful. All this work would prove to be worthwhile, as the archmage rode a small black horse back from the ruins through the mists of a dark swamp. Trodding slowly through the mists and into the forest, the mage left the horse for the wild and returned to the tower of High Sorcery at Wayereth. Jendaron was stopped by multiple mages on the way to his quarters, each time he handled them with more and more frustration as his arm began to throb with pain. 'Certainly the white robes have mages that can answer your questions about herbal lore? Why must you stop me with things you can find in the library apprentice mage!' Jendaron snapped at the white robe apprentice, and then quickly sneered a word of apology and quickly and silently headed for his quarters. Unloaded his pouches into a chest that he protected with ancient magic, Jendaron his upper body from his robes and gasped as he saw a large piece of flesh hanging from his right arm, his bicep muscle. No cleric would ever offer healing services to the most feared and hated black robe on Krynn, therefore the mage had snuck once into the halls of the Holy Order clerics and stolen scrolls from them. Though they had jailed him he had the opportunity to at least learn about how the body worked more than his previous knowledge. Jendaron stitched the flesh back into place but knew his arm would never work properly again. Combat would certainly prove to be a challenge indeed. Though Jendaron knew, if he could get ahold of the magic he saught, combat would prove to be unescessary. Author: Jendaron Date: Thu Jun 19 23:34:02 2008 Subject Life of an Archmage IV 'Do you think we would find anything of use? Clearly there is valuable information to find but how to bring it back is the question.', the black robed figure spoke with a quick tongue to the red robed high archmage. 'You need a tower master to open a portal to the past, and that means you need my help.' Reluctantly the black robe nodded his head and bowed before his superior. Though the trip would not be his own, he would still travel with the Head of the Conclave through a chronomancy portal. Thinking to himself, Jendaron went over in his head what Lelthas had said they would need for the journey. Several of the ingredient he already had procured from either the work of other mages, or his own collecting. Each of these ingredients would be used be the two high archmages in their work. Jendaron then traveled by foot to Solace, seeking out the assistance of Frelquen, a black robed elf who served the mages of the conclave well with his spying eyes. A short distance after begining his journey, he arrived at his destination and met with the long eared elf. This meeting proved to be worthwhile, as Jendaron discovered the location of a cleric of the dark arts who would be able to help him further with the injury to his arm that had become more and more painful. Unable to use anything but a torch and his magic, Jendaron trodded through the forest just outside of Solace and found the entrance to a small cave the elf had described to him. Within, he met with a fellow he could hardly describe he was so hideous, but the man proved to be of great assistance to Jendaron. The two exchanged services, the cleric providing healing to the mage, the mage enchanting a few choice items of the cleric's and providing him with a magical ring of protection. Jendaron would have to rest the arm for several weeks before he would be able to use a staff properly, though he had begun working with his left hand and a magical floating light, but this proved a challenge indeed. Jendaron headed back to the tower to rest his damaged arm and plan his next move. Author: Jendaron Date: Tue Jun 24 12:56:09 2008 Subject Renegades' Blood I A red robed man sits at a table in 'The Roaming Swindler' Inn, within the walls of Caergoth. He sips a glass of blood red wine and watches the door, waiting. A black robed man slowly walks towards 'The Roaming Swindler', but stops and speaks a few words of magic, obscuring his alignment and altering his appearance to that of a common traveller. An average looking man opens the door to the Inn and takes in the scene. Couples and families are rare in this Inn and dozens of eyes turn quickly to him. The place turns silent for a moment as the crowd judges him, and just as quickly as it stopped, the crowd again started talking amongst themselves and return to the cheerful and jubulent drunk mood. The mage's spell had been successful, he had not drawn the unnescesary attention his robes would certainly receive. He had also spotted the blood red robes of his Conclavian brother and slowly began to approach the table. 'I have come as you have requested, Archmage Leodas, ' in a muffled whisper the man speaks, Leodas able to see him for who he is through his enchantments. 'Much appreciated Jendaron, you know the reason?' the red robed man spoke as he slowly swirls his wine before sipping it. 'Hmm, I have a general idea. Same story as always isn't it?' almost mockingly of the situation, Jendaron gets a slight sneer on his face at his own thoughts. The exchange continued for several more minutes as Leodas explained to Jendaron the depths of his plans, how he had discovered a warehouse of stolen artifacts and suspected renegades to be the culprits. Leodas also informed Jendaron that he had setup several powerful traps inside the warehouse as well as an enchantment of alarming, which would allow him to know when the warehouse had been entered. 'The other reason was I did not intend to stay here long after you'd arrive if you did come. I felt my alarm trap release not long ago, ' Leodas looked seriously at the High Archmage. 'Let us go then, the matters are surely pressing are they not?, ' Jendaron and Leodas slowly stand and head towards the exit of the Inn. Author: Jendaron Date: Tue Jun 24 13:18:40 2008 Subject Renegades Blood II 'It could be a rat or something benign. I happen to believe my spell was cast well enough to alert me only to the presence of a sentient being, ' Leodas commented to Jendaron. 'I'd certainly hope so. Either way you've got me interested in it myself.' At this point Jendaron spoke a single magical word and faded from existance, invisible. Leodas on the other hand used a rarer cantrip, transforming his figure to that of a middle aged man, then a librarian, and finally a small child. An average looking man is also walking towards the warehouse, though he is much closer. He walks the familiar alleyways and heads slowly towards the warehouse, lost in thought. The man opens the door and feels a slight pressure at the base of his skull. 'Some sort of ward? Andros most likely, paranoid as always about his cache.' The man shouts into the warehouse 'Andros, it's me.' The man closes the warehouse door tightly behind himself and walks back towards the makeshift office set up in the back. 'They must have left already. Impatient as always, though the deal will be done quicker for it I suppose, ' a slight crackle catches his attention and thin stream of jagged light blasts across the room causing his hair to stand on end in its wake. The bolt had already passed, missing him narrowly, but he still dives to the ground with a curse. 'Damnit! Andros is very paranoid if he set offensive spells.' The man slowly begins to search the area for anymore ... protective... spells and finds none. Though never one to believe what he sees, the man continues to search slowly as he stands and continues to the office. The invisible black robe and the constantly altering red robe arrive at the entrance to the warehouse. 'Several of my offensive traps have been tripped, as well as the alarm. Whoever is inside is likely near death. With a tap of his staff upon the door, it explodes open as Leodas peers inside. Jendaron moves silently and swiftly, listening as Leodas says a quick word of protection creation a magical aura around himself and the black robe. 'Perhaps this is what you saught?' Jendaron nodded over to the figure of a man standing nervously on the other side of the warehouse. Leodas ends his casting and returns to the form of the maroon robed mage. The man across the warehouse had thoughts traveling faster than he could contemplate, but when the red robe faded into existance his worst fears and paranoia came to fruition. Thinking back to Palanthas the man, Orryn, tried to figure out when he had been tracked. Did the conclave mage in that town finally track him down? Orryn eyes the red robe with horror as the greatest fear of his life unfolds before him. Conclave has found him. Author: Jendaron Date: Tue Jun 24 13:35:58 2008 Subject Renegades' Blood III 'Renegade? I'm afraid you are sorely mistaken sir, ' the man abandons his thoughts of magic and attempts instead to trick the red robe, 'I came here looking for a friend of mine.' 'Does he take us for fools?' The unseen figure of Jendaron whispers quietly to Leodas and slowly begins to approach invisibly towards Orryn. 'Perhaps you have seen him, dwarf? Dark black beard..., 'Orryn tries to edge away from the mage while appearing unconcerned. 'Your friends are renegades, then. You choose to associate with them.' Leodas reaches his hand into a spell pouch, 'I leave you one further choice. Submit to the Conclave or die. The door leading to the back of the office slams shut as Jendaron presses against it closing off Orryn's alternate exit. With a snarl he abandons his act and begins a familiar chant. If Orryn could ensnare the mage's mind he might still walk out of this warehouse. Leodas speaks seemingly to himself 'It appears he chooses death.' The smile again grows on his face, full of confidence in his charm spell. 'Friend, truly, there has been a mistake here. I am no renegade and no friend of such. Let me leave and I will never bother you again.' Orryn begins to walk towards the charmed mage to pass him. 'Hold it right there. The unseen mage speaks from the doorway in the back of the warehouse. Orryn turns to the red robe, concerned but sees his still dazed appearence. 'What did you say friend?' Leodas shakes his head, 'Not me, him.' All he does is grin and point as the black robed High Archmage slowly fades back into reality from the fabric of magic. Jendaron slowly says, 'You've attracted alot of attention for yourself young man, we've tracked you and the entire group of renegades to Caergoth and now you are going to die. The black robe looks displeasingly at Orryn. Leodas grabs Orryns shoulder reassuringly. 'I'll handle this, friend. Leodas then shoves the Orryn between himself and Jendaron. 'Understand that there is no escape from this. Jendaron mockingly speaks to Orryn, 'Resistance will only result in your death, you see red robes are much more ... diplomatic in their approach to renegades than my order.' The exchange continues back and forth and ends with Leodas throwing a pinch of white sand towards Orryn face and him slumping to the ground in a magical slumber. Jendaron returns to invisibility as Leodas begins to prepare a portal to the Tower of Wayereth. At that very moment, the door opens again as Andros, and several other renegades enter into the warehouse shocked to discover the scene before them. Author: Jendaron Date: Mon Apr 20 23:25:03 2009 Subject Dark Winds Winds blow with a loud whistle through the trees of the dark valley. A lone man draped in black robes stands in the midst of the maelstrom of winds. A large staff with a green glowing crystal atop it is the only light that reveals the man. The winds begin to turn a dark color as the air itself dissolves into smoke, fire and anger. To be continued Author: Jendaron Date: Thu Jun 11 19:51:34 2009 Subject a story I woke up one day, and I was like woah its 6am. I went back to sleep. -fin Author: Jendaron Date: Fri Apr 16 03:24:48 2010 Subject Jendaron's Pro-Tips! Lesson #1 Introducing Jendaron's new Ansalon PRO-TIPS! Become l33t, pwn your opponents, make them all lolz at your glory! Tip #1 - If you can't swim, stay out of the water! More tips coming! Stay tuned!!
The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD
Astinus points to the massive wall of books behind him and bids you to make a selection.
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