An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Kerix.

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 pulp magazine on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kerix' scribed in dull maroon ink.

Author:    Kerix          
Date:      Fri Mar  6
20:14:45 2009
Subject     The Story of Kerix the
Pale

"Gather round young ones, it's time I told you the
tale of Kerix the
Pale... It starts not long ago - a score of
years by my reckoning. It was a
dark time. The gods had abandoned
us and we lost many ships to Zeboim's fury
that year. Kerix's
mother was crew on the Retribution. It was a fine
ship,
sturdy like a castle wall but slower than a dwarf. They
were months out at
sea, and her pregnancy had relegated her to
serving in the ship's galley.
The scurvy wench didn't even know
who the poor calf's father was. She was a
pirate scoundrel
through and through to be sure. No doubt her ways would
have
landed her imprisoned or worse on the mainland, but the sea has a
way
of erasing all that. 

The day of Kerix's birth started with
a glorious sunset. The sea was calm
and the skies clear. But as
the labor pains started, storm cloud's gathered
thick on the
horizon. Zeboim herself would not suffer the birth of this
child.
The whole of the crew was forced into action as the storm broke
over
the ship. None were there to see the birth - every able
bodied Minotaur was
pressed into duty to keep the Retribution
afloat in the gale. After hours of
fighting the mountainous
waves, a piercing shriek of anger and grief mixed
with the wail
of an infant cut through the sound and fury of the storm. 

The
cabin door burst open. She stood there, fur matter with the blood
of the
birthing. One hand clutched a bloody bundle while the
other slammed the
door. With a grimace of pain she staggered to
the rail, and hurled the
bundle into the storm. The whole crew
stopped to watch and wonder, wondering
what deformed beast her
loins had wrought. There was glimpse of white
followed by a
splash. None saw anything more, and were forced to turn
their
attentions back to sailing. The storm quickly faded, along
with any cares
for the fate of the infant. He was dead to
them." 

The old minotaur leans back, taking a long draw on his
pipe. His gnarled
form shudders as he coughs out the harsh smoke.
"We were not so lucky."

"Somehow the babe survived that
terrible fate. Some say he was saved by sea
elves, who took pity
on the new life. Others say the blanket his mother used
was
waterproofed canvas, and Zeboim saw kept him afloat for her
own
purposes. Perhaps a human vessel found him in the wake of the
storm and
fished him out. He's the only one who knows. I can tell
you that many years
later his mother was found dead, impaled on
her own broken horn. It was a
fate my daughter deserved, aye.
Clutched in her hand was long white fur,
ripped from her
attacker. Sargonnas did not deprive Kerix of his vengeance.
Those
who managed to spy him that night saw him only briefly - as a
pale
shadow in the night." 

The old minotaur smiles wistfully,
smoke trailing from his nostrils, "Kerix
is an abomination, but
also potent warrior in his own right. I have sought
tales of him
from the mainlanders. He still reveres Sargonnas in his way,
and
seeks to join with the forces of Her Dark Majesty. My grandson a
true
blooded minotaur, who shall never truly be a
minotaur."

He looks at each of the young ones in turn, "If
you see him, tell him I
honor him. Then kill him." 

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 mentions 'We have had over 869 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'