An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Kharthox.

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 book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Kharthox' scribed in glowing grey ink.

Author:  Kharthox
Date    Thu Dec 12 20:45:26 2002



SubjectThe Damned



He was born into slavery. His kind did not know freedom - they
knew the lash.

As a young bull he was taken to one of the Dark Queen's port
cities and
put to work in a shipyard. He was taught everything, from
building and sanding
hulls, to climbing masts and setting rigging. All lesson were
learned while
wearing iron shackles around his wrists and a thick iron collar.
They were
reinforced with the constant whippings for the ogre taskmasters
that the
Dark Queen employed as well as the occasional torment from
one of the
visiting Draconian higher-ups.

Yet, he showed no fear.

He listened to the stories that the old ones passed down around
the firepit at
night. He used to stare into the dancing flames and listen to
their words,
their talks about the way minotaurs used to rule the lands and
will take them
back one day. He fought imaginary battles in his mind and he saw
bloodshed
in the flickering flames.

He also learned of honor. He learned that honor was the
driving force
in a minotaur's life. Without honor, he is disgraced and to
signify this,
one of his horns would be lopped off, forever showing to others
that he was
unworthy to be called a minotaur. Knowing this, sometimes for
cruel pleasures
and to discipline unruly slaves, Bozaks would saw off the horns
of some of the
slaves, knowing that they would be shunned and forever make a
mockery of in
the eyes of their peers.

Kharthox resented being a slave. He hated the Dark Queen the
ogres and
Draconians that caused pain and fought with no honor against
a bound foe.

One day, while raising a mast on a new Royal Frigate, he heard
warning horns
sound. Those horns meant one thing - dragons.

Upon the sounding, all hell broke loose. Minotaurs, began pouring
off the
ships they were working on and looked for weapons in order to
defend
themselves. The ogres beat the minotaurs harder, in fear that
those weapons
found would be used against them. Silver and gold dragons
circled in
the sky while Solamnic knights began to pour through the city
gates. The
Knights were here to destroy this shipyard and return the
town to it's
rightful owners, the people who fled at first site of the ogres
and minotaurs
as they disembarked their troops ships so long ago.

The ogres and Dragonarmy regulars defending the town would not go
without a
fight. The dragons in the air gave support with their breath
weapons and began
the task of destroying the Queen's Navy that was present in
dry-dock as
well as the few completed ships in port.

Flames engulfed Kharthox as he stood on the ship's deck, burning
him, singeing
his flesh. He attempted to run off the ship, but his leg chains
got tangled
around a broken mast. He was trapped. And he felt something that
he had never
felt before... fear.

He feared nothing, not standing dozens of feet in the air on a
mast hanging
sailcloth. Not the Dragonarmy ogres lash. Not the overzealous
brawls prevalent
in the slave pens. Nothing - until now. The flames licked at
him... timbers
collapsed... everything went dark...

(continued next story)



Author:  Kharthox
Date    Thu Dec 12 20:54:35 2002



SubjectThe Damned (Part 2)



Kharthox awoke sometime later. The city had been evacuated,
cleaned out of the
evil presence of the Dragonarmy. No Solamnic Knights or their
Dragons were
to be seen. He was alone... and dying.

He was badly burned and physically hurt. He managed to pull his
hulking mass
from the burnt out hull and stumbled to the edge of a dock. There
he collapsed
in the waning sunlight.

Leaning up against a piling, Kharthox looked out to see the sun
rising over
the ocean. His throat burned, his skin swelled. He looked out
again and saw
large bird slowly guiding his way. It alighted on top of a piling
directly in
front of him. Maybe it was a mirage due to his dehydration, or
because of his
grievous injuries... but no, perched in front of him was a great
red
condor.

This beast seemed to speak with him without using words, again he
thought he
was hallucinating...

"You hate them yes? You wish to recover yes? You wish to strike
back yes?
You want vengeance yes?"

Kharthox nodded his head, the chains from the iron collar
rattling loudly.
Kharthox thought "I hate the Dragonarmy and what they have done
to me and my
people. They stripped me and others of honor. I hate the Knights
of Solamnia
for burning me and reducing me to this. I hate them... I hate
them all. They
made me feel, they made me afraid. They all made a mockery of me
- I hate
myself for being weak..."

The condor bobbed its head as if listening. Again, Kharthox heard
unspoken
words "All will be forgiven. Amends will be made. The fires of
vengeance
burn inside of you. You will claim victory..." With a rustling
of feathers,
the bird leaps into the air and swiftly glides off.

Clenching his fists, almost passing out due to the immense pain
of the burns
all on his body Kharthox stands and unleashes a warcry so loud,
so heavy with
ire, that everything around him suddenly became silent and what
looked like
flames could be seen smoldering within Kharthox's eyes...
Hate,
vengeance, retribution for finding his weakness, all will be
his.

(OOC - thanks for reading- this is a story for that Mishy
quest- thanks!)

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.'