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 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 journal on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kael' scribed in light red 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

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.'