An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Kelden.

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 brief catalogue on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kelden' scribed in earth-colored orange ink.

Author:    Kelden         
Date:      Thu Mar 22
11:59:56 2007
Subject     Return

Holding his dying
comrade in his arms, Kelden tried to staunch the bleeding.
But he
knew at this point there wasn't much time left. Holding back
tears, 
he held his old friend close.

"Don't worry," He
whispered assuringly, "I'll get you to a healer. It'll be 
all
right, you'll see."

Kelden had been born in Qualinesti. His
father had been a soldier in the army. 
Kelden, his mother,
father and sister had all lived happily there. That is 
until the
dragonarmies came. His father had been in the raid of Pax
Tharkas,
the raid that had gone so horribly wrong. Captured by
the dragonarmies, he was 
tied to a stake in Solace and burned
alive by the red dragon Ember.

Kelden was distraught. When the
call came to flee Qualinesti, Kelden grew 
disillusioned and
hateful. Why had no one helped his father? Why was his 
country
now fleeing? Where were the Solamnics? His country had sent his
father 
to his death. They forfeit his life so easily yet refused
to fight themselves. 
His father had died in vain.

Kelden looked
down at the body shuddering in his arms. He looked at the gaping

wound in its gut. His friend was mortally wounded. There was
nothing he could 
do.

Kelden hadn't stayed long in Southern
Ergoth. The city of tents harboring 
Qualinesti's refugees mad
him sick. It reminded him of his country's cowardly
flight. It
reminded him of his father's abandonment. He decided that he
would 
not flee. He would leave Ergoth and seek out his enemies.
He would fight.

It was shortly afterwards that he found
Dalanthus, the half-elf. They traveled 
across Abasasia and
Solamnia, aiding whomever they could. It became clear to 
Kelden
that many people cared little for elves, and those who did had
problems 
of their own. There was no one to aid Qualinesti. His
country was on it's own.

Kelden watched as the corpses around
him turned to dust. Dalanthus had stopped 
moving. He was gone.
Kelden made him a small grave and prayed for him. He 
recalled
clearly when Dalanthas deflected the blow that was meant for him.
He 
recalled the blade sliding into Dalanthus' gut. He recalled
Dalanthus' 
sacrifice. Just like his fathers.

Kelden lost his
misguided hatred for his homeland at that moment. His father 
had
not died in vain. He was not sent to his death. His father had
given up 
his life in hopes that others would live. He gave his
life for his homeland, 
his people and his family, for everything
he cared about.

Kelden returned to the homeland he missed
dearly. He wished to see his mother 
and sister once again, to
smell the sweet forest air. He walked through the 
familiar
streets to his old house. Knocking, his heart fell as an elderly
man 
answered the door.

"What? The previous owner?" the old man
asked loudly, "She died of grief soon 
after her son ran away. It
was very sad. She left a daughter, but with no 
relatives to care
for her she ran away too. Nobody's seen anything of her for

years. Why do ask?"

Kelden didn't answer. Grieving, he walked
away.

Wandering down the streets he remembered fondly, Kelden
thought about his 
life. All he had left was the home he
shamefully abandoned. He thought about 
how the dragonarmies so
easily destroyed his life. He remembered how no one 
came to
Qualinesti's aid, forcing them to flee. He knew they could depend
on 
no one.

He came upon a poster. He knew now what he cared
about most. The poster read 
"TO all those with Elven blood..."

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 869 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'