The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Menith.

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 'Menith' scribed in light orange ink.


Author:    Menith         
Date:      Thu Nov 13
06:10:00 2008
Subject     Menith 

Farming in the shadow
of the city of Neraka was a difficult life at best.
Menith leaned
on the plow wearily, and glanced towards the house, where
Gina
was inside, sleeping.  His sister had woken up this morning
feeling sick, so
he had told her to stay inside by the fire for a
day or two.  He glanced at
the sun, which was slowly sinking
behind the mountains, and judged that he 
could leave the field
as it was.  The rocky soil would not be harmed by an 
hour of
neglect.  

He was trudging towards the house, when the door flew
open and Gina stood in
the doorway, a blanket wrapped around her
and a stricken look on her face.  
Blood dribbled down her face
and she sagged against the doorframe.  Menith
broke into a run
and grabbed Gina before her head could strike the floor, 
mopping
some of the blood from her mouth with the edge of the blanket.

"That's rarely a good sign, you know.  The blood out of the
mouth."  
 
Menith turned at the harsh whispered voice and saw
a priest standing there,
black hood pulled low, and a veil
covering his face.  He leaned in close, 
examining Gina.

"Yes,
that's a very bad sign.  She doesn't have much time left.  It's a

really nasty plague she's got there.  I'm surprised she lasted
this long.  
Some of them last longer than others."

Menith set
Gina down slowly and lunged at the stranger, reaching to grip
him
by the throat.  A flash of light and he pulled back, holding
a hand that 
withered and shrivled before his eyes.  He gasped at
looked at the stranger.

"Who are you?"  He gasped, cradling
the withered hand before him.  The
Stranger's eyes glowed red
over the veil. 

"I am Morgion, mortal, and I would suggest you
not do that again.  I'll only
remove the disease from you
once."  

Morgion passed his hand over Menith's, and the
disease crept backwards, and the
hand was healthy again.  Menith
stared at the healthy flesh, then at the god.  

"What do you
want from me?"

"Oh, it's quite simple, Menith.  You're mine
now.  Where ever you go, you will
spread disease.  Gina will be
held as...protection of your new aliegence.  There
is a band of
mercenaries working out of Solace.  You will go with them. 
Follow 
where they go, and spread disease in your wake.  Gina can
stay here.  Don't 
fail me, Menith.  You'll regret it."

With
that, Morgion's figure blurred, and became a fine mist that
drifted away on
the wind.  

Menith looked back to Gina.  The
blood had ceased to flow from her mouth, and she
opened her eyes
slowly.  

"Menith?  What's happening?"

He looked out
accross the farm, seeing the only life he had ever known.  
It
would be hard to leave.  

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.'
\n