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 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 manilla folder on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Merek' scribed in dull black 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

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