An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Lisciarant.

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 leather bound tome with glowing glyphs on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Lisciarant' scribed in faded yellow ink.

Author:  Lisciarant
Date    Sat Apr 30 03:35:52 2005
Stamp   1114850152
Subject  The Scent of Darkness


The trees provided little shade in the piercing sunlight of
mid-summer, the
blistering heat beat down upon the dusty path. Lisciarant felt as
though his
skin was on fire, while he stood at the outside the city of
Jelek. He was
heading south towards the city of Neraka, overhearing about a
certain
gathering that was happening there had caught his interest.
Though Lisciarant
was not sure if this so called gathering would be of any interest
to him, he
still thought he would make an unnoticed visit.

He made a slow pace as he strolled down the path, the sun would
soon be fading
behind the horizon, allowing him to move much more quickly in the
coolness of
night. Knowing full well that he verily should not make his
appearance known
to most persons moving towards the city. The stench of his
rotting flesh would
alert even those deprived of a sense of smell. His cloak could
only cover his
deathly appearance, it could not possibly hide it in this threat
of hot
weather.

The gathering itself was not to be held for another week,
Lisciarant intended
to reach his destination much later. The path of travel had
treated him well,
as it seems, for he had only wished to reach Neraka with 2 days
to spare.
Merely to scout the city briefly for the location of the meeting
and wait for
the proper time. Now he had to move entirely too slow to pass
time, and even
in doing so he will still have to wait outside the city for at
least a day or
two.

As the sun went down and the light of Solinari and Lunitari shone
down,
Lisciarant removed his heavy cloak, allowing his dark and
tarnished armor to
shine in the light of the moons. As he removed his cloak two
nightblooming
flowers given to him as a symbol of loyalty and servide, opened
from their
place upon his shoulder. The scent of the amaranth flower mingled
with the
scent of his mangled flesh, creating a sour sweetness to the air
around him.



Author:  Lisciarant
Date    Sun May  1 02:34:42 2005
Stamp   1114932882
Subject  The Words of Empty Souls (part I)


The gathering was set to occur at dusk and the light of day was
quickly fading
away. Lisciarant was preparing himself to make a quiet visit to
this
gathering, wrapping the chains attached to his wrists and ankles
around his
arms and legs, keeping them from constantly jingling as he moved.
Taking the
chain attached to his unbroken horn and twisting it down around
his horn, he
was no longer clinking with every step he took.

Creeping through the shadows of buildings he arrived near the end
of an alley
that opened into a large culdesac where a large tent with only 3
sides stood.
The open side of the tent faced the alley, the large flaps of the
tent held
back by thick ropes. No one had yet arrived inside the tent,
Lisciarant moved
into the outskirts of the culdesac still hidden by the depths of
shadows.

Lisciarant had only waited a few more minutes before armored men
had began to
arrive at the tent and form conversations about the meeting.
Lisciarant stood
quite some distance away, but he could hear everything that was
said very
clearly. As he suspected it was a meeting that would present
itself as
interesting to him, but he needed to hear more for it to make it
what he is
hoping for.



Author:  Lisciarant
Date    Tue May 24 03:54:55 2005
Stamp   1116924895
Subject  The Words of Empty Souls (part II)


Various different soldiers arrived, warriors of no known
affiliation as well
as robed figures with strange etchings done along the edges. As
soon as people
stopped arriving two pairs of sentries walked out to the entrance
of the
culdesac and stood side by side, apparently prepared to bar the
entry of
anyone else. Lisciarant smiled to himself, amused at the fact
that they had no
idea he stood within the shadows listening to their every word.
Someone inside
the tent had begun talking, Lisciarant turned back to his
listening and waited
for what was being said.

The words delved into his mind, he absorbed all that was being
said by
everyone who spoke. Their words hollow, specious words flowing
endlessly, the
will of his dark lord pulsing within him he felt as though their
words were in
need of something. Something more meaningful, eternal. After
about an hours
time had passed the sentries returned to the tent and most of the
various
armored and robed people began to leave. Hearing all that he
needed to hear,
Lisciarant walked along the dark shadows back out into the alley.
Reaching the
end of the alley he looked up to the star filled sky and saw the
constellation
of his lord, glowing slightly brighter than the rest. The chains
that he had
wrapped up fell lightly from their place and began clinking about
once more,
grinning once more he pulled his cloak about himself and headed
in the
direction of his deity's temple.



Author:  Lisciarant
Date    Thu Jun  2 23:05:37 2005
Stamp   1117771537
Subject  The Lord of the Dark


The color of day was barely visible from the gates leaving
Neraka, the trees
framing the distance also obscured it. He had wanted to reach his
lords temple
before the sun could manage to brighten the land. His cloak
fluttered,
slightly pulling at the knot tied about his neck, reaching with a
shackled
hand he gripped the rim of the cloak, pulling it closer about
him. His broken
shackles clanking about him as he moved, he remembered the day he
managed to
snap the links that maintained his restraints. As he walked he
made a quiet
prayer of gratitude to his lord once more, not wanting his great
deity to
think what he had done for him had been forgotten.

He arrived at before the temple doors just as dawn had begun
stealing away the
calming darkness. Birds could be heard chirping within the trees,
animals had
started rustling in the underbrush. The dirt underneath his feet
was soft, the
guardians of the temple were aware of his presence. He walked
towards the
doors, murmuring the words of allegiance to the lord of the dark
in his native
tongue, the magically locked doors quietly lowering their
barriers so that he
could push them open. He lightly ran his fingers over the bright
white rams
head as he pushed open the door, being granted the blessing of
Chemosh...

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.'