An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Lorcan.

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 'Lorcan' scribed in rich red ink.

Author:    Lorcan         
Date:      Tue Dec  2
02:11:49 2008
Subject     Lorcan uth Dukar



Lorcan was
raised at a small Solamnic outpost in the Vingaard mountains,
the
son of a Solamnic knight and a local noblewoman.  His mother
is a descendant
of Lord Dukar, honored blacksmith of the Solamnic
knights.  As a young child,
Lorcan showed an affinity to the
clerical arts, and was placed under the tutelage
of the Solamnic
cleric stationed at the outpost.  As a young man, he put what he
had
learned to use when shadow cultists infiltrated the outpost
and contaminated
the food and water supply with plague.  Men were
dispatched on horseback
to seek help from Vingaard, but were
quickly slain by cultist road agents.
Lorcan watched as his
mother, as well as many other people who he knew
and loved,
succumb to the plague and its horrifying effects.  He helped to
tend
to them the best he could, but there was little he and his
tutor could do with
such limited resources.  By the end of the
first week of the cultist siege,
half the population of the
outpost lay dead.  His grief-stricken father and
the remaining
knights at the outpost rode out into the wild in a
last-ditch
attempt to defeat the cultists.  They never returned. 
Stubborn as only a
young man could be, Lorcan had been adamant
that he would ride out with
his father to avenge the death of his
mother.  However, after his father appeared
to relent and said he
would allow it, he was knocked unconscious from
behind shortly
before the men were to ride out.

He awoke in an outpost cellar
that was boarded up from the outside, 
and found himself amongst
a stock of uncontaminated food and drink.
His pounding on the
cellar door and screaming elicited no response from
the other
side, and it wasn't long before he gave up hope.  He passed
his
time with meditation and breathing exercises that the outpost
cleric
had taught him, and he ate and drank frugally.  There was
no way for
him to tell whether it was night or day, or how much
time had passed, but
it seemed to him an eternity before he heard
the voices of men from
above the cellar door.

The men who let
him out were Knights of Solamnia, a band that had ridden
from
Vingaard to investigate after there had been no communication
for
weeks.  As Lorcan was led out into the sunlight, he could see
through squinted
and tearing eyes that the knights were tossing
bodies into a firepit.  One knight
laid a mailed glove on his
shoulder and with a sad gaze told him that the
cremations were
necessary, and that no one else had survived.

He rode with the
knights to Vingaard where he found shelter with his
mother's
noble relatives, whom he had never met.  He soon
discovered that his mother was 
quite estranged from her family. 
Even though they gave him a place to stay in
the interim, they
treated him quite coldly and made clear that the arrangement
was
to be temporary, and that he was on his own.

Several days
passed, and after gaining a stamped letter from his
mother's
brother affirming that he is indeed of noble blood and a
descendant of Dukar
the Smith, Lorcan bought a limping saddle
horse off a one-armed dwarf with
the last of his gold and struck
out for Palanthas - to enlist with the Knights
of Solamnia.

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