An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Merek.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap Off 65 80.'
The gully continues 'Want color back? Turn Color Back ON!!

Astinus says 'Enter the main library here to view only the author list.'
Astinus gently places a heavy leather-bound book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Merek' scribed in brilliant purple ink.

Author:    Merek          
Date:      Thu May  3 02:27:53 2007
Subject     Berserk.

From a very young age I was raised to believe that death in combat is the
greatest honor one could achieve for his people...  From a young age many of
my teachers and even family doubted I would live to see my golden years..  I
was born different from the warriors who are raised in our village.  You see
as solamnia is famous for it's knights, and wayreth it's wizards..  So are
we famous for our berserkers.  From a very young age we are trained, to draw
upon massive rage, a magic that was passed down from our ancestors bloodline
still to flow through us as freely as we please.  Not me, however.  I am
what they call a natural berserker.  A detriment to my allies and loved
ones, for no matter how much training I received, no matter how much I could
master, I could never control the rage that flows through me.  Intense
moments of combat, perhaps a natural instinct to live...  Or perhaps even
die, triggers it.  I am merely 20 years of age, I have fought on the
frontline for my people many times, and then they retired me with honors... 
But the truth is simple, I am considered a terrible risk for those I would
die to defend.  I have set out on a long journey from my home, hoping to
find a way to master my terrible curse, or die trying.  I have heard that
there are those who take in warriors to their service, so I have come
searching for you now.  The Dark Queen is my peoples' patron Goddess, though
I am not a religious man, I claim my heritage.  I have run out of coins to
fund my journey, at this point I begin a new search, one that will fuel my
original journey, for it is ever in the back of my mind.  Perhaps there are
those who will find my swordarm useful, only time will tell.  As I was
written as a legend to my people, perhaps one day the world will see fit to
claim me as the same.  

Author:    Merek          
Date:      Tue Jul 10 21:22:32 2007
Subject     A temporary reprieve.

I was sent on with a war party to find out the source of a disturbance
for Saige and his Knights.  I was more than willing to repay the "favor"
done to control my berserk.  I began to wonder what other underlying magics
this amulet may have had attached to it, sensitivity towards energies such
as that were not uncommon to my people.  I took up rear guard, barely
knowing the people I was with made me uneasy, knowing even less about our
destination even more so.  It wasn't long before I noticed eyes upon us. 
The shadows were moving as we passed along the outlying range of the Lords
of Doom.  I knew better than to second guess, shortly after we were ambushed
and I was separated from the rest of the party.  The men who attacked us
were too well dressed to be simple brigands, too well armed to be novices to
battle.  These were soldiers.  For whom I could not begin to guess, but the
weapons they carried were nearly as large as my own and the ease with which
they carried them made me doubt their appearance even more so.  I could only
begin to wield my weapon with the strength required were I berserking, and
for some reason this time it would not come.  I could not lose myself in the
rage.  Still, I was trained from the time I could walk to be a warrior. 
Squaring off with a group of these...  "men" they quickly circled me, I
pulled a pair of axes from my belt and bid them to come and die.  

Author:    Merek          
Date:      Tue Jul 10 21:58:55 2007
Subject     The tide of war.

The two in front of me carried impressively large war spears, though the
make seemed familiar I could not place them, the two coming in diagonally
behind me carried similar tribal weapons, though the flails and cudgels were
indeed made of a blackened iron, indigenous to the rare ore mined by ogres
from the Lords of Doom.  Ogres!  It hit me suddenly that I might be very
outmatched indeed if my curse were in fact lifted...  Watching the way the
"men" moved it was easier for me to place where I had seen such weapons
before...  Ogre raiding parties were quite normal in my homeland...  It was
rare that I ever fought an enemy back then in a normal state.  

Brandishing their weapons with a primal fury few humans could muster, they
came in a frenzy, I stepped forward to meet the charge with a measured
balance of speed and skill, not daring to give my true ability away so
early.  I would need every trick I could devise to win this fight.  

I ducked into a low roll as the two facing me immedietly thrust their spears
to end the battle quickly, I brought my left hand-axe up to deflect one
spear and brought the other down in a powerful chop, splintering the stock
of the other's spear and comprimising the weapon's integrity.  Coming from a
crouch I sprung up to my feet and charged right past the two as the others
behind me rushed in right on my heels.  The spear wielder regained his
stance and again stabbed just as I turned to face all of them, it struck
hard, denting my shoulder-plate as I rolled with the blow and again brought
down a vicious double chop that tore the weapon apart in his hand.  The two
with weapons yet still in hand took advantage as the other two looked at
each other and headed over to the rocky lands a few yards away.  Knowing
then that whatever chance I had before was quickly sinking I began to
despair, They were going to find rocks to throw at me from afar.  

Whatever enchantment that hid the true forms of these ogres suddenly wore
off, before me stood a pair of hulking brutes, mottled and pock marked faces
eager for my blood.  

Author:    Merek          
Date:      Tue Jul 10 22:27:16 2007
Subject     The art of killing.

Taking advantage of the momentary surprise, I rushed in throwing my left
hand-axe to the ogre on the right while yanking a dagger from my belt, I
jumped, leg muscles snapping perfectlyas I willed them to.  I brought my
right hand down into a chop on the left ogre, smashing the blade between two
ribs and holding on for dear life, I continued stabbing with the dagger
repeatedly.  The monster howled in agony and dropped it's club, instead it
wrapped it's arms around me in a crushing hug and squeezed with a terrible
fervor.  The air blasted out of my lungs and I knew it wouldnt be long
before it crushed my ribs through my lungs and silenced me forever.  As the
darkness began creeping into the sides of my vision, it happened.  The heat
radiating from me became intense, stifling, all consuming.  The necklace
placed upon me and magically sealed began to smoke, the rage was too much
even for the power Saige had imbued into the amulet, too much for any
temporary solution to ever hold in check.  

My eyes blazed a horrible blue this time, (It was always orange before!) 
Instead of feeling myself slipping back as the rage come forward, I felt it
flood into my conscious, into my thoughts, over-riding all coherent idea of
survival.  It was always fire and ice before, The fire of all the Hells to
power the beast that was my body...  The icy prison of me watching from
afar, but unable to to do anything about it...  Now it was just fire.  A
wretched fire, but a fire that I could touch, a power that I could wield to
destroy these assholes who were ever dumb enough to believe they could stand
against me.  

The surprised look on the ogre holding me said volumes, I growled a deep
inhuman growl, a voice over a voice.  Instead of him looking down as he
crushed me, he was facing me as though our height were equal.  And then I
bite down on his throat as he held me close, then I jerked my head sideways,
tearing the flesh and cartiledge away, spraying myself and the ground around
us.  Unaware that I had dropped my weapons I balled my fist and send the
ogre flying back with a vicious blow that rang out like two stones smashing
together.  The other ogre turned and fled at the horrible sight.  But I
would not let him go so easily.  He ran as fast as he could, but in my blue
tinged vision, he was running away in slow motion, as though time had nearly
stopped for all but me.  I picked up the axe I dropped and threw it with
inhuman force.  The blade whistled from the force, head over head to slam
into the ogre's back.  With a gurgle and a look of surprise the monster
looked down to see bone grissle and the tip end of the blade protruding from
his chest, then slumped over and died in a growing pool of it's own blood. 


Without anything but a vacant, horrible smile crossing my face, a smile that
would never fade in this wretched form, I began to casually walk over to
where the other ogres had stopped picking up rocks and just stared at me,
dumbfounded.  

Author:    Merek          
Date:      Wed Jul 11 02:49:12 2007
Subject     A life in the rain.

I went from a casual walk to a trot, to a full out run, closing the
distance between me and the two remaining enemies.  I could smell their
fear, almost feel it more than anything else, and it only made my charge
increase.  A giddy feeling crawled up my skin though it was more my
imagination Im sure.  I could register no feeling in my current state.  They
began throwing rocks as soon as their surprise wore away, they couldnt know
that I saw them coming and simply sidestepped them as though they were being
thrown through water.  My pace increased yet again as I yanked my vicious
sword from it's sheath across my shoulder, splitting one rock and taking a
direct hit in the chest from another, still my pace never slowed.  The blow
had broken a rib but still I smiled, still they threw, though one was on his
last rock, he turn and ran right afterwards.  

Upon closing the distance to my first target, the other leaving him to die
to make his escape, I leaped into the air, much higher than previously and
brought my sword down with both hands.  The ensuing retort rang off the
cliff walls, but not before he brought his arm up to smack me hard, sending
me flying back several feet, my sword still stuck somewhere between his left
hip and right shoulder, the gore reached me even as I hit the ground, hard. 
My movements were slower now, his blow was wrought of sheer desperation, a
final attempt to take his killer with him to the 9 Hells.  But I didnt die,
I got back up, I walked over to the gruesome scene before me and reclaimed
my blade, yanking it and the top half of him off with it.  Still smiling, I
found the other ogre running back towards me, hoping to catch me by surprise
and wounded.  The coward said outloud in broken common, "But sword not
sharp!"  He looked down at his companion, both pieces, and though
dumbfounded by the fact a blunted blade could cleave his friend in twain, he
knew today he would breath his last, and it wouldnt be painless.  

He couldnt have followed my next movement, for noticing the blood flowing
freely from my mouth, I became even more enraged, my time was short.  His
had to be shorter.  I turned and with both hands threw my blade with all of
the rage left in me, all of the power left in my broken body.  It flew blade
over hilt to slam into the ogre.  The blade smashing right through his
throat to pin him to the boulder behind him, like a gushing pincushion, he
died on the spot.  I fell to one knee, scanning the carnage of this
pointless battle, seeing the ogre who's throat I tore out with my own teeth
still choking on his own blood, the pool growing deeper, more sticky.  It
began to rain, and as I bit the stopper from my flask and took one last
hearty swig of Soulburner, I capped it again and saw only darkness.  

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