An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Malsvir.

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 worn book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Malsvir' scribed in dull white ink.

Author:  Malsvir
Date    Fri Apr 29 20:50:59 2005
Stamp   1114825859
Subject  The Beginning...


"Son, you can not leave.  Harvest will be here here in a couple
of
days...  I need you to help me.  I can not do it by myself." 
Stated a stern
figure sitting across the table from me.  I looked defiantly into
his eyes,
and replied, "And after that there will be something else.  I
have waited
patiently and helped you for the last five winters.  I am done
with helping
you.  You are not even my Father, I should have left a long time
ago." 
"Malsvir, son, you do not really mean that?"  Stated a simple
dressed lady
sitting by the hearth, "He has treated you as though you were his
own son. 
Show him some respect!"  "No, Mother," I yelled, "I will not, I
am not going
to live my life in misery as the both of you do.  I want more out
of life
besides being a poor farmer..."  The lady interrupts, "Stop
it!!!!  I have
had enough of this, you will do as your told."  I violently stand
up from my
chair knocking it over, "I will not hear this anymore.  You can
stand by my
decision and support me, or forget you ever had a son."  I
proceeded to walk
to my bunk to pack my things, when the stern man busted out of
his chair and
tackled me.  Furious, I fought desperately to push the brute off
of me, but
his strength overpowered me.  Fatigue soon settled into my every
muscle, but
anger fueled me to continue.  I knew I could not defeat this foe,
by test of
strength, so I slowly gathered my self to relax.  Concentrating
with all my
mind, I began to recite the words I had studied for so long. 
Reaching my
hands, I could see my hands glowing a deathly blue.  Reaching
out, I touched
my oppressor on the face and released the magic that flowed
through them. 
The stern man turned a sickly blue and shook from the blast of
cold that I
thrusted at him.  His deathly grip went limp, and I wiggled free.
 Standing
up, I looked at my Mother.  A look of shock blanketed her face,
"Get out you
witch!  Get out!  Get out!!!!"  , she yelled.  Tears rolled down
her eyes,
as I turned and walked out the front door...  I was free, but at
a cost. 
With nothing but the clothes on back, I stepped out into the
night sky...  
To be Continued....

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.'