The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Oggan.
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 concise treatise on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Oggan' scribed in vibrant orange ink.
Author: Oggan Date Wed Oct 31 03:12:23 2007 Subject Where Oggan come from Stark desolation is in the past, present, and future of the Ogre people. They live in it. They thrive in it. They leave it in their wake. They strive to bring their way of life to all they encounter in the most persuasive of ways. The strong survive. The weak are amusing. For a time... The Ogre known as Oggan would never have bothered to put these thoughts into anything resembling that kind of order. He has known only that violence is to be worshipped as a god. Violence has no emotion, force has no remourse, and the dead have nothing they deserve to keep. The windswept plains of Kern did little to curb his enthuisiasm for domination. He owned only what he could take, and he learned to take as much as he could. His way of life went unchanged, untill outsiders began to take from him, from his people. At first only the weak of his tribe were killed. They deserved death. But as time went on, even the strong began to succumb to the outsiders. The outsiders shouted and spat curses at them in their apish tongues, and killed Oggan's tribesmen with their foul weapons and strange magics. Finally there were too few in the tribe and too many outside. The shaman led them away from their homeland. No one asked where they were going. The shaman tried briefly to explain, but no one cared. They were to meet their cousins, and their cousins cousins, and so on. It was all meaningless. They were to become a new tribe. So be it. As long as the outsiders would die sputtering on the end of their swords, die choking on their own teeth as Ogre fists tore them out... Oggan didn't care. He wasn't thinking about the outsiders. He was eyeing the axe the Ogre in front of him carried, and wondering how hard he would have to swing his club to crush their skull, and claim it for his own. His grip tightening, he lifts the club skyward and brings it down with all his might. It takes more than one try. Good. Good...
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