An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Nefaria.

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 an elegant book bound in elf-skin on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Nefaria' scribed in faded grey ink.

Author:    Nefaria        
Date:      Thu Mar 19
17:39:35 2009
Subject     The wounds fester, Part 1

In
Sanction, only two things mattered more to Governor Commin: food
and music.
He was lucky enough to attain a position which
adforded him the best meals he
could buy - his wife,
unfortunately, could hardly boil a pot of water properly.
His
other passion, however, was sadly lacking from his life.
 
Until
Teria Fejere made her first appearance at Sanction's Market
Square.

It was the third day of Sanction's annual, week-long
Festival of Shinare.
Hundred of people flooded the square, and
dozen of merchants peddled goods
to whomever came within shouting
distance.  The air was uncommonly crisp and
cool for a late
summer's day, but the mood of the crowd was undaunted. 
Some
might say it was the ale flowing through their veins; others
would (rightly)
attribute the light-hearted mood to the melodious
offerings of Teria Fejere.
 
She was one of the most alluring
women of the countryside.  Red locks framed
her soft-featured
face, flowed over her shoulders, and ran down the back
of her
curvacious figure.  But her body was only the tip of the iceberg
of
her allure; her angelic voice enthralled, enchanted, and took
hostage of the
most hardened heart.  People say she might have
been Branchala's daughter.
 
Governor Commin was not immune to
her inadvertant charms.  Like anyone within
hearing range, he had
to stop and listen to whatever magic flowed out of her
delicate
mouth.  But few others were as obsessive over music as he, and it
was
this obsession which set in motion the cause of both of their
demises.

Teria roamed the various town celebrations with her
family.  Her husband, Tam,
accompanied his wife with beautiful
lyre-work and often lent his tender tenor
to his wife's songs. 
Though he was not nearly as talented as Teria, Tam's
voice was
the perfect undertone compliment to his wife.  Their eldest
child,
Palao, was also developing into a musician in his own
right; he had concocted
a new musical instrument out of a lyre,
and used a slender branch with golden
hairs strecthed across it
to saw-out notes on the device, creating a flowing
tone which
almost seemed to emulate his mother's melodious voice.

The
family's youngest child, Aria, had been studying with her mother
for the
past several festival seasons, and was even beginning to
lend her 12 year-old
voice as an opening act for her more
experienced family members.  There was
little doubt that the
child would one day carry on the family trade, for not
only did
she seem to have her mother's voice, she also had her mother's
fine
red hair and emerald green eyes.

But family ties and
beautiful children did not interest Governor Commin; only
his
desire to possess this wondrous voice seemed to matter.  He knew
that he
MUST have Teria as his own so that only he could be privy
to that voice.

After her fifth performance of the day, of which
Commin sat through all but
one - he had to put in an appearance
with his wife for some mundane public
ceremony - Commin
approached Teria and requested that she remain in the city
as
Sanction's official vocalist.
 
So husky was his voice that Teria
knew exactly where his true desires were
focused.  She
respectfully declined his initial request, then more and
more
forcibly she declined as more and more forcibly he made his
requests, which
quickly turned from polite to indignant, from
indignant to angry, and from
angry to threatening.  It was only
after Palao walked in that the Governor
finally
relented.

Moments later, Tam entered as well, and seeing his
wife in a profound state
of disarray, he demanded to know what
had just happened.  Though his wife
denied any problems, Tam
suspected something had occurred and asked Commin
to leave. 
Commin, worried that he might have jeopardized his elite
position,
abruptly left, but knew he had to do something in order
to hold onto his
governorship.  As he pushed past young Aria, who
had been standing outside
the door, he knew he had to hide the
evidence of his near-indescretion.

Later that evening, he had
one of his trusted advisors hire some local thugs
to put an end
to Tam and his wife.  Though it would be a tragedy to the
area,
Commin considered that a small sacrifice to maintain his
position of power.
 
Tam and Teria were throttled in their sleep.
 Young Palao was slain as well,
his throat slit when he came
running down the hall of the inn after having
heard his mother's
scream.  And little Aria had been hurt, too, bludgeoned
across
the face and left for dead at the bottom of the inn steps.  Not
a
one of their prayers to Branchala, lover of music, was ever
answered.
 
Twenty days later, when she had finally woken up, she
brought to the city
officials to provide whatever information she
could.  The only information
they could get off of her - other
than general descriptions of big, cloaked
men - was of an
argument she had with a man matching Governor
Commin's
description.  He of course denied any such encounter,
claiming to have been
with his trusted advisors after the
performances in question.
 
Aria was left in the care of the
city, for she had no other relatives who
came forward to claim
kinship.  She wasn't even allowed any property of
her deceased
parents or brother; those items had been pawned to pay for
the
funeral expenses and medical costs to revive Aria.  She wound
up in the
care of a local potion shop owner who was a cousin of
the Governor.

Author:    Nefaria        
Date:  
   Thu Mar 19 17:45:50 2009
Subject     The wounds fester, Part
2

A week later, Governor Commin came to Aria.  He brought
her down to the shop
to see if she could be a threat to him. 
Something about the man touched
off a part of her memory, and she
clearly saw the altercation which had taken
place nearly a month
beforehand.  When she told him her relevation, he
simply
responded, "So?  No one will ever believe you."
 
She ran at him,
and he simply stepped aside, pushing the young girl into
a
display of potions, which promptly shattered and caused many
cuts to her face
and hands.  He shoved her out of the back alley
of the shop, and proceeded to
kick her, all the while hissing at
her that this time she'd never wake up.
 
At that moment, a
blackness enveloped her.  For a moment, she though she had
died,
but then light began to slowly come up - like the slow rise of
the two
moons.  She was on the alley floor,  Commin frozen next
to her.  Next to her
was a small knife.  She heard a voice rasp,
"Take. Hurt him as he hurt you."
 
Standing up, knife in hand,
she stumbled over to Commin's frozen figure.  As
she came closer,
she could see his eyes were wide and moving, the only part
of him
able to express the terror presently gripping him.  Finally he
found
his voice: "Please don't kill me.  I'll admit to my
crimes."
 
Moving closer, Aria hissed back, "You didn't listen to
my mother."  Plunging
the blade into his chest, she moved closer
and added, "You deserve more than
just the one death I can give
you."
 
The small, single, 2-inch wide wound in his chest began
to pulsate.  Aria
found she could not remove the blade, nor could
she detach her hand from it.
She watched in fascination as a dull
yellow-green light spider-webbed out
from the wound and crept up
to Commin's face.  He began to gag and convulse
in rhythm to the
pulsing of his knife wound.  Froth and blood bubbled up and
out
through his lips, and darker blood began to seep from the edges
of his
eye sockets.  Commin shook violently sevral times, and
then was still.
 
A gravely voice whispered in the dark, "Why
didn't you turn him in?"
 
 
Before she even turned around, Aria
replied, "He deserved to suffer."
 
 
"Hrm," commented the raspy
voice.
 
"What?" she asked, as she turned around.  She did not
know what to expect,
but she did not anticpate seeing the owner
of the potion shop, Commin's
cousin.  At first, Aria's eyes
widened in alarm, then in curiosity. "Why
didn't you stop me? 
He's your cousin, right?"
 
"Correction: WAS my cousin.  Why I
didn't stop you is not as important as
why I'm not turning you
in."
 
"And why is that?"
 
"Because your rage, your anger, was
delicious.  Your thrist for him to
suffer a hundred deaths for
each of your family members, it was divine."
He grinned evilly
and continued, "Tell me, child, what do you know of the
god of
cleansing suffering, Morgion?"
 
In the nearly seven years that
have passed since that exchange, the
young and formerly-innocent
girl has allowed herelf to change.  Not once
did she seek healing
for the initial scars of her face.  Though the
potions she was
doused in had no harming effects, she constantly picked
at the
scabs, relishing the pain, and remembering the blind eye
turned
on her and her family as they all desperately prayed for
Branchala's help.
 
After sneaking out of Sanction, having slain
all six advisors who provided
false alibi for Commin, and having
murdered the three local thugs who did
Commin's dirty work, she
stopped going by her name, ending any inquiries as
to how she
look liked that daughter of the tragically famous singer.  She
no
longer believed that music (or any god of music) could save
anyone.  She
no longer felt like a beautiful work of melodious
art, an aria, but something
more sinister.  Something more
disrupting, less palatable, less pleasing, and
infinitely more
painfull.  Something corrupting.
 
Something nefarious.  And she
has enjoyed her calling ever since.

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.'