An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Marik.

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 brief catalogue on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Marik' scribed in deep blue ink.

Author:              Marik
Date    Sun Oct 21 07:19:51 2007
Subject  Where Ogre come from


My tale is a simple one and one not uncommon amongst my people. 
My name
is Marik Clubfoot and my name is the source of my troubles. 
Rather I should
say the source of my name is the source of my troubles.  For it
is accurate,
I was born with a clubfoot.  Rank and respect is based on
physical prowess
in battle and my handicap assured me that for me this would not
happen.  My
sire regularly expressed his displeasure of the situation with
beatings
which in his mind would promoate greater efforts in the physical
arts on my
part.  Rather it only served to foster a deep and abiding hatred
in my
heart.  

I soon reconized that I would never survive as a warrior among my
people. 
If I wanted power I would have to choose a different path.  It
was then that
I reconized another source of power in my tribe.  The shaman,
weak and
feeble as he was, was respected by most and at the, least, feared
by the
rest.  If I could not have the former, I would settle for the
latter.  I
quickly endeared myself to the old one and soon became his
apprentice. 
After months of listening to his senile ramblings about the gods
and in
particular the Dark Queen I grew weary.  This was nothing I
hadn't heard as
a cub for years.  I wanted power and learning it from him would
take me
years.  I decided I would steal from him that which I preceived
to be the
source of his magic.  The amulet of the Dark Queen which he wore
around his
neck.  I would take it and flee this wretched hovel and make my
own way in
the world.  But first, I had something to take care of.  

My father barely grunted in his sleep as I slid my dagger between
the
vertabrae in his spine.  I had paid attention to some of my
lessons with the
old Shaman after all.  I threw some extra blankets over him,
figuring no one
would disturb him till at least noon.  I then proceeded to the
hut in which
the Shaman was sleeping.  

I knew this hut well from my many lessons here and silently made
my way to
the Shaman's bed.  I drew back his blanket slowly expecting to
find the old
fool sound asleep, just like my father minutes before.  He would
be even
easier to kill.  I was shocked to find his bed empty and even
more shocked
when I heard his voice behind me in the shadows.  I spun around
as he spoke,
ready to defend myself but all that happened was a torch flared
up on the
wall.  He looked hard at me and I wondered how I ever thought him
foolish
and senile.  His gaze was clear and steady as he stood in the
firelight.  

"You have come to kill me and steal my power have you cub?"  He
said as he
slowly reached up to grasp his softly glowing medallion.  "Do you
not yet
realize that the power comes from within, from faith in the
Queen?  Here,
take it.  It is nothing more then a symbol of my faith in the
Queen.  For
you it will do nothing unless you truly believe.  For me it is
not needed
because I truly believe," and saying so he yanked it from his
neck and
tossed it to me.  

By reflex I caught it as it came at me and as soon as my fingers
touched the
metal the glow winked out and the warmth of the amulet fled,
leaving a cold
lifeless hunk of metal in my hand.  I stood there suddenly unsure
of my
actions as I considered his words.  Seeing my hesitation he
stepped closer
and spoke once again.  

"Marik, dedicate yourself to the Queen.  I will show you the
glory to be
found in serving her and the power she will grant to you if you
are
faithful.  Look into your soul," he impeached of me as he again
stepped
closer, close enough to grab my arm.  "Consider what I am
offering you."  

And I did.  As I stared at the amulet in my hand the five dragon
heads seemed
to move of their own volition.  A soft voice whispered
seductively in my ear
of the power I would receive and the respect granted to me if I
would but
serve her.  I lifted my eyes to that of the old shaman clutching
my arm. 
And in them he saw my choice.  In his presence I spoke my vow to
the Queen,
the amulet clutched in both our hands.  As I finished speaking he
nodded and
began to smile.  Suddenly he stiffened in shock and pain as he
clutched at
my other arm.  The one that had driven the daffer into his chest.
 I felt
his warm blood on my hand as he looked at me in confusion.  

"I will not grow old wasting my life in this hovel old one.  I
have seen
what our Queen offers and you should have been so much more.  She
has shown
me what you could have been if you had the courage to try. 
Instead you
wasted your life on these pitiful few hiding in the wilderness. 
But not I
old one.  Not I."  

And with that I let him fall to the floor, the life having faded
from his
eyes.  I hung the amulet around my own neck, happy to feel a bit
of warmth
returning to the cold metal.  I took it as a sign of approval
from my new
Mistress, approval that she was rid of one so weak.  I quickly
looked around
the hut before making my exit.  I wanted to be gone from the
place before
the bodies were discovered.  I would make my own way in the
world, serve my
Queen as she decided.  Her armies were scattered across the land
and I would
find them.


Author:    Marik          
Date:      Fri Sep 18
05:03:08 2009
Subject     Growing

Growing up in the
remote reaches of Solamnia, son to a sword knight
father, and a
cleric of kiri-jolith as a mother, to say it was a life
of
discipline would be an understatement. Since a young age it
was a given that
I would one day join the knighthood of my
father. I had read the code and
the measure until I had it
memorized. I went to church regularly as my
mother was the
ranking preistess in our small community, and I had the duty
as
my mothers son to attend both her and the church. 

My church
duties included the passing of the collection plate, as well
as
the lighting of the candles, and the cleaning of the church.
After which was
more hours spent studying the code and the
measure of the knights. Followed
by hours of training in the art
of weaponry with my father and his troops. I
had many bruises and
scars from the sparring matches I particpated in. All
to please
my father and mother, and make them proud. It was my fathers
dream
to follow in his footsteps, and my mother was only happy to
agree. 

At the age of seventeen a letter arrived for my father
summoning him back to
palanthas, the jewel of krynn my father
called it. Gathering his family and
his knights that he was
allowed to accompany him we set off for the city.
They traveled
many days through the foothills of the distant mountains.
On
their last day in the mountains his father pulled him aside as
his men made
camp. 

"From here into the plains of Solamnia is
going to be rough going. Goblins,
ogres, and thieves litter the
land until we reach the plains. Should I fall
in battle, if it
occurs, take my body to palanthas, and give this letter to
one of
the knights to deliver to the leaders". He said as he handed me
a
small envelope. "And above all else protect your mother. Love
her and honor
her, as you should." He said then ruffled my hair
as though I were still
eight years old. I nodded at my father,
understandi ng his instructions and
the responsibilty he was
giving to me, and tucked the letter into my tunic
and followed
him back into camp not saying a word to anyone of what he
had
said. We camped that night and were off again before the sun
the following
morn ing. 

As the sun came up over the horizon the
foothills glistening from the
morning dew, he smiled thinking it
was going to be a great day. When a
knight came back riding hard
into them, he had been sent to scout the road
ahead, and he came
back with news of a goblin raiding party about a mile up
the
road. His father strapped on his helmet and order half the
knights with
him, and the other half to remain behind with the
supplies as he rode off
after the goblins. We continued forward
at a slower pace to give the knights
time to clear the road
ahead. And we caught up to them about an hour later.
Only four
out of the ten knights remained standing, though scores
of
goblins, and a few ogres lay bleeding on the ground His
fathers body lay at
the foot of a large ogre, his helmet bashed
in by what looked to be the
ogres club and his fathers sword
still imbedded in the ogres belly. I did
not cry as I walked over
and knelt over my fathers body saying a prayer to
Kiri-Jolith,
then standing and freeing his sword from the ogres belly.
The
other knights joined me in collecting the bodies of their
fallen comrades.
As we loaded them onto the wagons and made our
way with heavy hearts to the
Jewel of Krynn. 

The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD

Astinus points to the massive wall of books behind him and bids you to make a selection.

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Astinus mentions 'We have had over 868 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'