An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Loram.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap 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 dirty book showing much wear on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Loram' scribed in rich green ink.

Author:    Loram          
Date:      Sun Nov 12 21:34:57 2006
Subject  Kiri's farmhand

On a cool evening under the full red moon of Lunitari, Loram was born
in the city of Daltigoth.  Loram was born to the third son of the Solamnic
knight known as Gerath uth Brahven, Lythus.  His mother was of the Que-Shu
people.  They had a field on which they farmed and raised chickens.  Loram's
quiet life was joyful full of learning about farming, fighting with the
neighboring children for popularity.  At a young age, Loram spied a dire wolf
hunting chicken flesh near the coop.  Loram was deathly afraid of the dire wolf,
having never seen such a huge wolf in his life.  Its yellow eyes in the night
glowed eerily. Its fangs glinted, dirty with blood, yellow with plaque, dripping
with foaming saliva.  Its dark brown hair bristled as it let out a gutteral
growl. Loram was just 8 years old, old enough to know that the chickens were his
parents livelyhood.  To loose them was to be in danger of starving in winter. 
No one else was around, Loram spied no weapon in sight.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, Loram ran towards the wolf.

He jumped and grabbed onto the wolf's back, grasping hold of its fur.

He yelled, "Someone!  Help me defend my family!"

With that cry, a light shone down on Loram and his fists glowed bright blue. 
Each eight year old blow was like a sledge hammer hit from a brutal minotaur. 
The wolf's back broke from the force of the blows and his family was safe.

"Thank you!" He cried, and a man appeared. He was dressed in thick brown fur,
his hat covered his head with small horns of a bison, a faint blue glow
surrounded him.

"You are welcome."  The man said.  There was a moment of silence.

Loram looked up, ruddy and tear stained was his face.  "How can I repay you for
your help, sir?"  Loram asked, curious and a little afraid.

The man laughed, "Hah!  So eager to repay what you see as a debt? Very good of
you to ask.  No, it is I who wants to ask something of you.  Your bravery would
have saved your family had they not have been killed just hours ago by bandits
on the road.  I am sorry to tell you this news so soon, but I will help you
through this part but the rest of your life is your own.  Remember my kindness
and seek to help others who are in need of your help.  Be a sword to the weak
and benighted, though you shall not carry a sword.  Go now to the temple to the
north east off the road.

Loram headed to what he was later to know as the temple of Kiri. All he carried
with him was his courage and his name.

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 868 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'