An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Nathaniel.

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 'Nathaniel' scribed in dull brown ink.

Author:  Nathaniel
Date    Thu Oct 28 10:04:43 2004



Subject  To be or not to be



Nathaniel looks up at the scorching sun and lick his dry lips.
This is not as
fruitful as I had hope, he thought to himself, defeated by the
heat and
fatigue. It has been months since he left the vallenwoods in
search of his
birth parents. Growing up in Solace with his surrogate parents,
Nathaniel saw
all kinds of people who came to the Inn of the Last Home, a
favourite
gathering place amongst the beautiful vallenwoods.

At a tender age of five, Nathaniel used to stare in awe at the
well-built
swordmen and the enigmatic mages and kind clerics who came to
visit in Solace.
(Well of course there were the draconians as well but they were
stinky and
little Nate was afraid of them so he didn't even so much as look
at them.) The
war was raging in Solamnia then, and his birth parents had sent
him away from
Palanthas to a kind couple where Nathaniel sought refuge till he
was grown up.
At twenty, Nathaniel did mercenary work for some to earn his
keep, having
trained a good swordarm under his surrogate father. A semi-skiled
warrior, he
travelled much, hearing stories of glorious victories and
shameful defeats.
Stories of the spreading forces of the Dark Queen particularly
caught his
attention. He never cared for what was good and what was evil for
there never
was a point in his life thus far where he had to contemplate the
two. What he
was drawn to, was the glory and status warriors attained in
fighting for the
Dark Majesty Herself. He heard of the rapidly expanding forces
and longed in
his dreams to join them but what a man dreams remains elusive
until one day he
packs his sword and pursue it. Desire burning inside him,
Nathaniel set out to
join the dark forces south of the renowned High Clerist Tower.
Along with this
ambition, was his desire to find his birth parents. He therefore
decided to
return to Palanthas to look for them.

Arriving in Palanthas, he received strange stares that was at
best, hostile
and unwelcoming. The heat and fatigue soon caught up with him and
his knees
buckled just as he wearily stumbled in front of temple where a
soft blue glow
emanated from within. When he next woke, a lady dressed in
flowing soft white
robes was tending to him, asking another white-robed to fetch
some herbs for
Nathaniel.

"Fear not, we mean you no harm. We are clerics of the Holy
Order and we
found you passed out beyond consciousness outside the Temple of
Mishakal. Rest
is of utmost importance now." she said with a warm smile.

"Who are you?" Nathaniel ventured weakly as he laid
semi-conscious.

"Aryanne Encuintras is the name. Sleep for the night and you
will recover
swiftly by dusk on the morrow, Nathaniel," A smile played
around the corner
of her lips as she left the room, leaving Nate to wonder just who
in the world
she is.

To be continued...



Author:  Nathaniel
Date    Thu Oct 28 11:00:33 2004



Subject  To be or not to be (Part II)



A few days after he has recovered, Nathaniel spoke at length with
Lady
Aryanne, whom he came to learn is the leader of the white-robed
clerics.

He related the reason he came to Palanthas and told briefly of
what he could
remember of his parents. His father was a mercenary warrior, much
like
himself, and his mother was learned in the healing arts and made
off a living
selling herbs to the citizens. Nathaniel recalled his mother
telling him
stories of brave knights riding upon silver dragons against the
flaming skies
when the War first broke out. He listened in awe as would any
four-year-old
listening to fables and myths. But "All that is lost on me now
for I am too
world-weary to care anymore for righteousness or whatever that
was the moral
of the stories." He smiled wryly. Lady Aryanne looks at him
solemnly, "It
is not a fable that people just hear and forget. Brave men fought
for good to
prevail and their blood was not lost in vain."

She went on to tell Nathaniel of the battles that were on-going
in the South,
particularly in Thelgaard. "Other clerics like Rafaya, Fayelir
and Lydiel
have volunteered to help in the battle by tending to the sick and
the
injured..." Nathaniel turned sharply, "Did you say Fayelir?
Fayelir
Gunthar Swordall?" Lady Aryanne nods slowly. Nathaniel's eyes
were now
burning with hope, "At last, I have found my mother."

Nathaniel lost no time in procuring a fast steed and rode nonstop
to
Thelgaard, the excitement of finally meeting his mother after 15
years pushing
him forth at incredible speed. What met his eyes when he reached
Thelgaard
will haunt him for the rest of his life. Such massive bloodshed
and violence,
women and children fleeing, crying, knights fighting bravely and
the fervent
clashes of steel, never in his life has Nathaniel seen an
actually bloody
battlefield such as this. He saw the healing tents and covertly
made his way
to it, hoping not to rouse any attention. He asked every one of
the clerics if
they have seen Fayelir and they pointed him towards the last
tent. Adrenaline
rushing, he ran bursting into the last tent only to be met to
morose sights of
impending death. The patients in this tent was living their last
days. He
searched the face of every cleric who passed him by, unable to
find his mother
still. "Fayelir Gunthar Swordall!" he called out loud in a
desperate bid
to find her.

A hand raised slightly two beds away from where he was standing.
He looked
upon the dying frame of Fayelir.

Blood was everywhere, Fayelir frantically searched the
battlefield for any
survivors to help them into the healing tents. She saw a slight
movement at
the far end of the battlefield and she hurried over to see that a
poor
villager had be struck in the arm with a bloody throwing axe. As
she was
kneeling over her, trying to dislodge the axe from her flesh,
suddenly Fayelir
let out a sharp cry as cold steel penetrated her unguarded
back.

Nathaniel spent the next few days with his mother, telling her of
his
adventures and tales of his childhood away from her. But these
few days were
not enough. Upon the Day of Summer Wind, Fayelir passed away. As
Nathaniel
held his mother's still frame in his trembling arms, he looked
through
brimming tears at the battle still raging outside. What good was
glory in
serving the Dark Queen if it costs evil like this? The
dragonarmies spared no
one, not woman, not child, not his mother.

During his short stay, Nathaniel became acquainted with several
knights and
squires who came to visit "Lady Fayelir" as they called her. She
has been like
a sister to the knighthood and in tending to the injured, and
helping so
willingly, she has earned the respect of many. "Take heart my
brother,
Paladin walk with you." said many of the knights to Nathaniel.
Nate appeared
to bow his thanks but was indeed bowing in shame. He sought
glory, riches and
fame, and in seeking those, lost all good that was in him. [to be
continued..]



Author:  Nathaniel
Date    Thu Oct 28 11:22:40 2004



Subject  To be or not to be (Part III this is the last)



Nathaniel had once worshipped and longed to be in ther services
of the Dark
Queen. Now that he have seen the destruction and cruelty that
comes of serving
the Dark Queen, he hung his head in shame as he recalled all that
his mother
has tried to teach him as a very young child. He turns his back
on the Queen,
now his soul belongs to no one. Death would be meaningless, as
meaningless as
life is. With a forlorn spirit, Nathaniel bade the knights
farewell and headed
back to Palanthas to say his thanks to Lady Aryanne and to
conclude his
journey. He plans to return to Solace. What materializes of his
life now, he
knows not. Leave it in the hands of destiny, he thought sullenly
to himself.

Upon his return, Nathaniel met Lord Mykas MarKenin, acting
Grandmaster of the
Solamnics, and Sir Kael Encuintras, Knight of the Sword Order.

He recounted his story to the two knights, grateful to the
knighthood for
having taken care of his mother in her dying days and for the
support they
have shown him in his grief.

They speak of evil that must be rid from Krynn, and of bravery
that emerged of
battles that have been and are being fought. Nathaniel would
gladly offer his
swordarm but felt himself unworthy of the knighthood.

Besides, he was now a man of no faith, and such a man would not
last long in
battle. Lord Mykas encouraged Nathaniel to meditate and seek
guidance in the
Temple of Paladine in Palanthas. "Perhaps I will heed your
advice. I thank
you my lords. And I am grateful to the knighthood for the
kindness and
graciousness you have shown my mother and I. If there is any way
in which I
can repay the knighthood, please, do not hesistate to ask."




Author:  Nathaniel
Date    Fri Oct 29 10:32:11 2004



Subject  An encounter with an old wizard



Many days has passed since the death of my mother, Fayelir
Gunthar Swordall.
Grief gave way to a certain numbness that I cannot begin to
describe. Since
meeting with Lord Mykas MarKenin his words kept recurring in my
head. There is
reason no more for me to stay any longer in the city of
Palanthas, yet
something tells me I should stay a little while more.

Coming back from the tavern one night, I passed a temple made of
smooth while
marble that glistened in the moonlight. The mere sight of it
invokes a sense
of calm and reprieve. It was outside this temple where I stood,
hesitant if I
should enter. After all, I did come from another land, people
might look upon
me with suspect and despise. Contemplating whether to enter, I
had not notice
an old fellow who seemed to have materialized out of thin air.
"Why!

You must be the new boy everyone's talking about! Now where's
that blasted
hat..." and my eyes widened as I saw a crooked wizard hat
floating
erratically above the old man's head as if it had a life of its
own! He
finally got a hold on and patted it on his head with a satisfied
smile.
"Come child, let's not stand here in the path of the chilly
wind when
promise of warmth lies before our very eyes. Besides, you can
meet some of
the others..." And before I could gather my wits around me and
utter a "No
thank you" the old man nudged me forward with the staff with what
I thought
was a slight chuckle.

To my surprise, instead of feeling ill at ease and unwelcome,
several knights
who appeared to have been kneeling in silent prayer stood up and
greeted me
with the knight's salute. I bowed deeply, not wanting to appear
disrespectful,
even though I had no clue who they were at all.

"Your mother was a brave and kind soul who helped the
knighthood
unconditionally. Her faith , along with others', helped the
knighthood
through the many battles we had to fight, both on the
battlefields and in
our hearts. And now her soul is at rest with Paladine who will
continue to
guide our path in the upcoming battles at Thelgaard. You are a
follower of
Paladine too?" I shifted uncomfortably in my armor, not knowing
what to say
when the silence was broken, "Would you like to join us in our
meditation
anyway? We have come to pray in the Temple of Paladine before
we have to
leave for battle early before dawn on the morrow." the same
knight who spoke
early on said with a grim smile. "Well I really only stumbled
upon
this..." and I turned around to look for the old wizard who
showed me into
the temple but much to my dismay, he was gone as enigmatically as
he had
appear. I nodded humbly "It is my honor to be amongst you and
I bid you a
swift victory in your battle so that there will be sufferance no
more."
The knight looked pleased that I have decided to stay and we
proceeded to the
inner chamber with the rest of the knights.

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.'