The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Kael.
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 concise treatise on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kael' scribed in rich green ink.
Author: Kael Date Fri Oct 14 22:06:35 2005 Subject To our aggressors. To our would-be aggressors, Our Lordcity of Kalaman would like to refute the Knights of Takhisis' proposal as enunciated by Baroness Ayasana uth Matar. This note will serve as a stern warning that any Knight bearing the symbols of Takhisis spotted by the guardsmen of Kalaman will be thus imprisoned or slain if he/she administers any form of resistance. The Knighthood of Solamnia will never bow to a request for surrender by any entity. Let our aggressors beware. Est Sularus oth Mithas, Brother to brother, yours in life and death. Lord Kael of House Encuintras, for the Order of the Sword, Knighthood of Solamnia. Author: Kael Date Wed Oct 19 07:20:36 2005 Subject War plans Greetings my fellow brethren, I shall attempt to make this note as concise as possible. With the situation in the Lordcity of Kalaman not improving by any measure, I have decided to dispatch two fleets of Knights from the city of Palanthas to assist in the battle there. Since this idea was the brainchild of Sir Aliran Detrius, I shall grant him the honour of commanding the fleets. Due to Sir Aliran's ties with the Holy Order of the Stars, I believe that clerical assistance from our allies will undoubtedly be rendered. I have also sent a messenger to the city of Kalaman to inform them of our plans. The messenger would access the city through the underground water tunnels in order to avoid detection by enemy troops. He also bears the intricacies of our plans to evacuate the citizens via the tunnel should the city be doomed to fall. With that, I have also gave my promise to the people of Kalaman that we would do our utmost to recover the city and return them to their rightful residence should the city fall. Apart from a platoon of troops which would be placed near the exit of the underground tunnel to assist the people of Kalaman in their relocation, no more resources should be given to the battle in Kalaman unless a need arises. The raison de'tre for this is that we shall dedicate the bulk of our strength to the invasion of the city of Lemish. Having surrounded the city of Kalaman with four armies and having supported and supplied them for quite some time now, the Knights of Takhisis are likely to have exhausted much of their resources towards that cause. With this in mind, I think it would be prudent to advance upon Lemish while our enemies still have their resources distributed rather unevenly across the land. I propose to deploy three batallions of Knights to Lemish, with Lord Elarik uth Navar commanding. I speak only for the Sword Order, for Lord Galadir Fortescue will decide on which Crown Knight(s) would be involved in the co-commanding of this offensive. If no Crown Knight of higher rank is appointed to the offensive, Lord Elarik uth Navar will be the overall-in-command. To my knowledge, Lord Galadir will also be attending to the matters at Vingaard Keep. I thus find it proper that the Order of the Sword should render its assistance to him. I thereby appoint Sir Nathaniel Swordall to be seconded to Lord Galadir for the period of three months. Seeing how there is no Lord Knight as yet in the Order of the Rose, I would like to invite Lady Melody to make a choice as to which front she would prefer to grace. Her wisdom and experience would surely be one that is sorely needed. Last but not least, I extend my apology to all of you that I cannot as yet join you at the frontline due to my duties in planning the war movements. My priority has always been to lend my sword to you, my brothers-in-arms, and I will do so at first opportunity after discharging my duties as High Clerist. May my prayers be with you all even if my physical presence is not. Est Sularus oth Mithas. Lord Kael of House Encuintras, High Clerist, Order of the Sword. Author: Kael Date Fri Oct 21 04:14:26 2005 Subject An Unexpected Guest The Solamnic knight pored over a spread-out map of the continent of Ansalon, his face pensive in thought. There has been much development in the past few weeks - word getting around that the city of Kalaman was supposedly as good as lost; the High King of Thorbadin apparently defeated by a goblin. What was truth and what was rumour, no one really knew. But all the knight could do was to believe them and make his plans. It was little wonder then that when a squire of the Solamnic garrison in Palanthas hastily rapped on the oaken doors of Lord Kael Encuintras' chambers, the middle-aged knight responded with irritation at losing his train of thought. "What is it, young Vinius? I instructed for you not to enter unless emergency requires, did I not?" At this chiding, the squire looked to the outside of the chambers awkwardly, as if not really knowing how to respond. Then he said, "My Lord, there is an.. An elf at the gates. He purports to be a warrior of the wild and mentioned a war with goblins. He also claims he has some important information for you from his leader, my Lord." The already-defined lines upon the forehead of the senior knight creased further. "Bring me to this elf you speak of," he ordered. The squire bowed and duly beckoned his lord to the gates. ------------------- Lord Kael Encuintras strode out to the gates of the Solamnic garrison in Palanthas, accompanied by his squire. There, he caught the peculiar sight of an elven warrior, dressed in simple yet hardy garb. A young gryphon stood irritably by his side, scratching at its fleas, quite obviously tiring of the wait. Kael approached the elf with formality, extending his hand in invitation and apologising for the time the elf and his animal spent in waiting. Yet, the elf did not speak, but instead handed the knight a piece of parchment, secured by the vines of Zhan. It read: "We need to meet. Air Marshal Snefru Maleekee of the Wildrunners." After a moment of ponderence over the significance of the letter, the knight assented and bowed once more before the elven warrior. Beckoning his squire to fetch him his parchment and quill, Kael wrote in reply to the Air Marshal. He would ride to meet the leader of the Wildrunners this night, for he may very well provide an answer for the many questions he had. Author: Kael Date Wed Dec 7 06:02:33 2005 Subject Impending War A knight resplendent in the armor of Solamnia stood in the middle of the vast plains, taking his place amongst the ranks of the many knights awaiting the grand battle. The towering spires of the city of Kalaman can be seen in the distance behind the battalion, silently granting the warriors strength. Archers stand upon its bleak walls supporting the valiant fighters on the ground, gently, some may say nervously, caressing their well-used bowstrings. All lay still and tranquil, if only for a moment, as the adrenaline pumped steadily within their veins. A slight clearing of the misty fog then reveals a faint line on the horizon, what one could only deduce to be the formation of soldiers serving the Dark Queen. The knight on the plains edged in his armor, irritably swiping away a persistent grasshopper with a wave of his gloved hand. Beads of sweat now formed freely on his forehead, making the musk and stuffiness of his helm that much more abhorrent. The battle-lust burned deep within his soul, and all of his will and swordarm concentrated on the inevitable... Then the horns of war bellowed. A cloud of dust rose from where the faint line once was in the distance, merging with a similar cloud kicked up by the sudden charge of the knight and his comrades. To a mere onlooker, the time before actual battle where each side rushes towards the other appears to be a negligible commodity. To a warrior in the fray, that rush appears to be an eternity. And so it was, to the knight on the plains; his legs aching in their greaves even before his blade had drawn any blood, his eyes half-blinded by the incessant dripping of salty sweat. He was thus, almost thankful, when the two sides collided with devastating fury, sword upon sword, shield upon shield. Overcome by the passion of the moment, the knight slashed out furiously at any advancing foe, felling several at one time. His ears could not discern the screams of the dying for they all melded into a confusing grey. His mind was occupied with the continued slashing, parrying, thrusting - never mind the ache and pain in the arms. It would be over soon. So the knight went, slashing, parrying and thrusting; and many a foe fell before his might that day. Soon, the dust cleared and all that could be seen were bodies upon bodies, stacked in a gruesome tribute on a land gleaming with the blood of the dead. The knight collapsed then onto the soft ground, exhaustion finally overwhelming him. A smile crossed his face even as his body ached, for he knew his deed was done and his rest was well-deserved. Wait, what was this? What was this dull pain he felt in his lower back? The knight whirled around at lightning speed, swordarm at the ready for he had been trained for such surprises countless times over. 'Fight me as I face you, dishonorable vermin, ' he exclaimed to a figure clad solemnly in the emblems of the black lily. Yet even as he spoke, poison rushed through his very being paralysing him. His sunlight turned slowly but surely to darkness as the figure plunged his serrated blade deeply into his torso... ----------------------------------- The knight woke up with a start, his eyes pinned on the domed ceiling above him. 'It was just a dream, just a dream, ' he repeated to himself. He wiped his forehead gently with his backhand and climbed out of his bed, taking with him his sword. Donning the mantle that only the High Clerist of the Knighthood could wear, he stepped out upon the balcony overlooking the plains of Kalaman. The faint line upon the horizon was still there, the archers upon the battlements of the city still patrolled. Heaving a sigh, the knight returned to his chambers, patiently waiting for the bugle horns which must inevitably sound. Author: Kael Date: Thu Dec 11 18:01:51 2008 Subject The Knife of Dracart: A Prelude A knight resplendent in the armor of Solamnia stood in the middle of the vast plains, taking his place amongst the ranks of the many knights awaiting the grand battle. The towering spires of the city of Kalaman can be seen in the distance behind the battalion, silently granting the warriors strength. Archers perched upon its bleak walls supporting the valiant fighters on the ground, gently (some may say nervously) caressing their well-used bowstrings. All lay still and calm, if only for a moment, as the adrenaline pumped steadily within their veins. A slight clearing of the misty fog then reveals a faint line on the horizon, what one could only deduce to be the formation of soldiers serving the Dark Queen. The knight on the plains fidgeted in his armor, irritably swiping away a persistent grasshopper with a wave of his gloved hand. Beads of sweat now formed freely on his forehead, making the musk and stuffiness of his helm that much more abhorrent. The bloodlust burned deep within his soul, and all of his will and swordarm concentrated on the battle at hand. The warhorns bellowed. A cloud of dust rose in the distance from where the faint line once, commingling with an equally immense cloud kicked up by the sudden charge of the knight and his comrades. To an onlooker, the time prior to the actual battle appears to be a negligible commodity. To a warrior in the fray, it is an eternity. And so it was to the knight on the plains. His legs ached in their greaves long before his blade had drawn any blood, his eyes half-blinded by the incessant dripping of salty sweat. He was thus almost thankful when the two sides collided with devastating fury, sword on sword, shield on shield. Overcome by the passion of the moment, the knight lashed out furiously at any advancing foe, felling several at one time. His ears could not discern the screams of the dying for they all melded into a confusing cacophony. His mind was preoccupied with the never-ceasing parrying and thrusting. Never mind the ache and pain in the arms -- it would all be over soon, the knight assured himself. So the knight went: slashing, parrying and thrusting. Many a foe fell that day. Soon, the dust cleared and all that could be seen were bodies upon bodies, stacked in a gruesome tribute on a land gleaming with the blood of the dead. The knight collapsed onto the soft ground, exhaustion finally overwhelming him. A smile crossed his face even as his body burned, for he knew his deed was done and his rest was well-deserved. But wait, what was this? What was this dull pain he felt in his lower back? The knight whirled around at lightning speed, swordarm at the ready for he had been trained for such contingencies countless times over. "Fight me as I face you, dishonorable vermin," he exclaimed to a figure clad solemnly in the emblem of the black lily. Even as he spoke, poison rushed through his very being, paralysing him. The sunlight turned slowly but surely to darkness as a serrated knife plunged deep into his torso... --------------------------------------------------------------------- The knight woke up with a start, his eyes pinned on the domed ceiling above him. "It was a dream, just a dream," he repeated to himself. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and took leave of his chambers, taking with him his sword. Donning his armour, he heaved a sigh for the long day ahead. Little did he know that this day, with the help of a tiny dagger adorned with a curiously curved handle, would be the one that changes his life. Author: Kael Date: Thu Dec 11 20:11:59 2008 Subject The Knife of Dracart: An Opportunity The weather sure is hot and humid today. The stuffy breastplate and helm aren't helping things much either. I walk the end of the patrolling route out of the Lordcity of Kalaman, one that I have covered 14 times today since the dawn broke and one that I have traversed countless times these past few months. "Lorcan, mind covering for me while I take a short break?" I tapped on the hollow helm of a lazy squire sprawled on a cot in the eastern guardhouse to draw his attention. He mumbled something inaudibly before acceding to my request. Ah, the benefits of being a senior knight. I strolled leisurely to the woods east of the city, meaning to catch a quick breath of fresh air. Being in the city stifled my senses - the characterless spired buildings and bustling of commerce all added to the dreariness of the dead heat. Leaning on the curvaceous roots of a solid oak tree, I finally found my solace, even if just for a while. The chirping of the birds and the tranquility of the forest calmed my mind. If only I could be here forever. "Beware the eastern gate... buregghh grrimm toreak. Nasty Solamnics there," a deep guttural voice carried itself through the quiet air. Eh, goblins? I peeked past the large trunk of the oak tree and spotted a minotaur clad in the trappings of a black dragonarmy warrior in conference with two wiry goblins. Not wanting to draw their attention quite so quickly, I drew my sword from its sheath in in the gentlest way I could. Why were they here? "Do not stir the Solamnics from their beauty sleep. We are here for the artifact and nothing else," the minotaur warrior bellowed. The goblins nodded their disproportionate heads in obedient acquiescence. The minotaur issued a field signal to advance with a sharp cocking of his wrist and the goblins crept on after him. I followed a tree behind. So, it is an artifact that the Dragonarmy seeks. Interesting, I looked on as the three minions of evil scrouged the forest, burying their clawed feet and hooves into the muddied ground in search for the artifact. I bidded my time and once it was certain that their attention was all but diverted to their exploration, I emerged from the obscurity of an adjacent tree trunk. Uttering a cry to Kiri-Jolith, I sliced the heads of the goblins cleanly off their scaled shoulders and pressed the pointed end of my blade uncomfortably close against the throat of the startled minotaur. "Tell me what it is you seek. Speak, or I will slit your throat wide open." The blade drew a drop of fresh blood. The minotaur did not answer. A maniacal grin crossed his face and he promptly impaled himself on my blade. I frowned at the bovine blood that splattered all over my armour. I'll never be able to wash this off. Worse still, I have nothing in exchange for it. Even as those thoughts ran rapidly through my mind, the periphery of my vision caught a small sheet of parchment slip from the stiff grasp of the slain minotaur. Grabbing the parchment as excitedly as a newborn, I peered intently at its contents. A picture. A shining black blade. A strangely curved handle. Wait a minute, this was the very dagger that pierced me in my dream. I can still feel the cold of the blade on my back. What could this portend? Then, I smiled to myself. An opportunity to prove a knight's worth. Author: Kael Date: Thu Dec 11 21:42:16 2008 Subject The Knife of Dracart: The Discovery and the Blade The knight returned to the place within his dream. Just out of the north gate of Kalaman was where he met his untimely demise. This time, the faint line of the enemy in the distance no longer existed. There were no bodies gruesomely piled and no death in sight. Could he really find what he sought here? The knight swept his steel sabatons close to the ground in an arc to part the thickening grass. The field was simply too vast to comb this way. He turned to face the city to his back and was almost blinded by the oncoming rays of the sun. The distance from the gates seemed to be about right -- if his memory serves, the guards on the ramparts did appear that small from where he lay in his dream. The knight stared at the ground for an eternity, searching relentlessly for a visual clue. But there were none. Lifting the visor from his helm and wiping his sweat for the umpteenth time today, the knight chuckled and chastised himself for having been led by his own subconscious mind into this fool's errand. He flung the parchment he had earlier retrieved from the Dragonarmy minotaur into the wind. A gust blew. The knight's eyes followed the flapping parchment as it floated, light as a feather, to a pre-ordained spot in the grass. Parting the grass obscuring the parchment, this time with a gloved hand, the knight caught a glint of metal against the shining sun. His hands closed around the comfortably curved handle of a fine knife. He found it! Imagine what his superiors would say when he returned to the barracks with this gem -- an artifact lost by the Dragonarmies and discovered by a Knight of the Crown. Wars have been won and lost by such fortuitousness. The blade was just the right length and exactly balanced, making the knight's previous weapon pale in comparison. It was almost as if it were made solely for him. The knight looked up and his short-lived glee turned quickly to despair. A creature the size of an ogre and bearing the scales of a red dragon as skin towered over him. What sorcery is this? In the distance, the knight could once again see the formation of the minions of evil obliterating the horizon. The knight summoned up what little courage and vigour he had left. He was not about to die there. He wondered for a moment why the archers in the city had forsaken him, but he rapidly refocussed on the battle at hand. He was not alone. The fine knife imbued him with a magical strength he had never experienced before and the power exited with hellish fury from his swordarm. A quick thrust rendered the gargantuan beast flailing in its death throes, covered in electrical flames. The knight was pleased with his new find and decided to beat a hasty retreat in the face of the stiffer opposition that was to come. A dust cloud rose once again in the distance. ------------------------------------------------------------------- A farmer, by the name of Theodore, lay on the ground that day. The corpse was just out the north gate of Kalaman, the farmer's chest pierced by a single stab wound and his body burnt almost beyond recognition. The archers on the towers had miraculously missed any altercation that occured and the farmer's cause of death is still uncertain. All that is known is that the farmer was on his way home from a day in the fields. The Knighthood has not ruled out foul play. More guards are now stationed on the ramparts, but there is as yet no sign of enemy activity.
The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD
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