The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Raaksida.
A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 80. 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 heavy leather-bound book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Raaksida' scribed in white ink.
Author: Raaksida Date: Tue May 3 22:22:45 2016 Subject Evidence of the Wicked, pt. 1
The kender priestess steps gingerly around the holes in the road filled with water, as she leads the horse attached to the cart. She pulls her snow white cloak tight around her and buttons it in the front, trying to keep the bottom out of the mud. One of the cart wheels falls into a particularly deep hole with a thud, and a whimper issues from within the cart. "I know, the road is rough here, but we shall soon be in town," Raaksida says, an owner to her pet. A smile crosses her face as she looks at the closing town and the thought of the hospitality she would be shown. As she approaches, however, she notices a near complete lack of noise coming from the town. Even a one road town like this one should have some noise coming from the inn. As she makes her way towards the inn, an older man with a long beard appears. He seems to begin to wave her down the road till he sees the cart and speaks up, "You are a priestess of Mishakal?" The kender looks to the symbol on the cart, then gives the man a smile, "I am. Is there something that I can assist you with?" The old man seems visibly relieved, and moves to help her with her cart. The priestess holds up her hand to stop him, and another whimper comes from the cart. "Everything is okay," she says into the cart, then turns towards the man, "She does not much like strangers." The man seems almost off put but speaks out of desperation, "Very well. We would graciously accept your help. One of our young returned from the city, ill, and now a number of others here have fallen ill as well. Could you please look at them, and possibly heal them in your way." Raaksida grins and nods, "Of course I will." She then follows the man into the inn, and upon entering is confronted with a number of men and women in makeshift cots. A frown plays across her face, making her tattoos contort almost menacingly. All the villagers are sweating profusely and a few are even breaking out in sores, but she does not let it stop her work. She pulls her translucent veil over her nose and mouth and moves to hold the head of each one stricken with the pestilence. Her frown grows deeper and deeper and she moves from one to the next. Once she has looked them over and said her prayers, she pulls the old man aside, "Are you the leader of these people?" The man merely nods in reply. "I do not like to be the one to say this, but these people have been touched by the Black Wind. I have heard rumors lately that he has been gathering his people, and this is the first step. There is nothing I can do for them. The only thing that might save the village is to quarantine these people." The man gives her a horrified looks, but nods, "I understand, priestess, we will do what you say." He looks over the sick as if they are vipers preparing to strike. "That is good. I would like to check the rest of the village if you do not mind. You will want to make sure that all those afflicted are quarantined, even those that have not shown signs."
The man again nods to the priestess, then sets about having the sick moved to the back rooms of the inn, and the others sent for. Raaksida begin setting up to see the rest of the village, and sees them one by one, a smile on her face as she cups each ones head in her small hands. She indicates that many more should be put back in the quarantined rooms in the back before she is done, those not sent to the back rooms remain in the common room. When she has seen the last of the villagers, she removes the veil from her face and addresses those that are in the common room, "I know this is sad news. You must separate yourselves from your brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers...your family, but it will help in the cleansing of this town. You will get through this crisis. The agents have been more brazen lately, and they convince the righteous to accept Morgion into their hearts. This is what you are seeing here. No doubt someone here has the Black Wind in their heart, but it means that one of his agents is out there and I must move on to find this insidious being." With that, she packs up her gear and makes for the door, wishing the leader the best as she leaves, and encourages him to keep up with the quarantine and be vigilant for more that show the signs. She leaves the inn with thanks from the leader and loads her cart. As the cart lurches forward, another whimper comes from its depths. "Dont worry, our business here is done."
The old woman sits beside her sons sick bed looking out at the grey skies, and muddy streets of their small town. Her heart is heavy with the fact that soon her son would die. She knew he should have never run off to join that horrible army of dragons, or whatever they call themselves. As she looks out the window, she sees a curious kender skipping down the street wearing dark grey traveling robes. She watches the female kender skip right up to the the town well then start digging in her pouches for something. The mother had never seen a kender quite like this one, with a shaved head and an overall lack of color. The kender pulls out a coin with a grin that the watcher in the window can barely make out, then seems to think a wish, kisses the coin, and throws it down the well. The mother watches the odd kender, expecting to see her skip her way back out of town, but instead turns to look up at her. The little creature gives her a broad, almost loving, smile and a white aura appears around her. The kender points to the door below the window then begins heading towards it. The womans hopes begin to soar. Perhaps this is one of the clerics that she has heard about. Perhaps she can fix whatever is wrong with her son. She races down the stairs as fast as her old legs can carry her. When she gets to the door, she throws it open, and is greeted by a warm smile. "I sense you are in need of help, my child," the presumed cleric says in a soft whisper. The old woman feels a warmth fill her and she knows everything will be alright, "Yes, it is my son. He fell ill in the city of Sanction after getting injured in some battle." The kender frowns, "I see. Another casualty of this war the Dragonarmies have brought to Ansalon. Please, let me see if there is anything I can do." The woman smiles with delight. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she says with joy, before leading the little cleric up the stairs and to her sons room. The cleric stops her at the door, "I know you are excited to have your son back, but I must go in there alone. Having others around interrupts my prayers. Please, go downstairs and make yourself some tea and relax. It will all be over soon." The kender gives her another loving smile, and waits for her to nod before heading into the room. She heads downstairs and puts a kettle over the fire and watches it boil, trying not to think, not to hope. She fails and her hopes begin to rise as she prepares her tea, pouring the hot water over the leaves. Thoughts of the days to come with her son, happy and healthy begin to flood her mind. That is when she hears the heavy footsteps of her boy above her, and a grin crosses her face, but she waits in the kitchen like she was told. Soon her son and the kender come downstairs, and the grin on her face broadens. All signs of the illness were gone, and even the injury to his side seems to have been healed as he is no longer favoring it. The young man takes several long steps to his mother then gives her a giant bear hug, "Thank you, mother. It was your prayers that brought Raaksida to me, but I must leave with her." He lowers his head, saddened, "It seems this was all fate leading me to a greater cause, but I will miss you, mother." The woman does not seem saddened by this at all, "I do not care that you must go. A god has clearly chosen you, and if it means that you continue to live your life, I am glad for it." Her son seems to take comfort in her words, and her heart swells as she watches him and Raaksida leave her home to venture forth. Perhaps he will become a knight like he always wanted. She sits down at the table and drinks the rest of her tea with a smile on her face.
The tavern is dim, and smells of smoke and stale alcohol. The unusual kender steps into the room, her hood pulled low over her face. She scans around the room before going deeper into it. There are not many patrons, the loudest of which are a group of Dragonarmy soldiers in the corner of the room. The other customers are giving them plenty of room, with at least one empty table between them. It is clear the Dragonarmy soldiers have been harassing the others. Raaksida steps further into the room, and a large hulk of a man follows her in. story clear The tavern is dim, and smells of smoke and stale alcohol. The unusual kender steps into the room, her hood pulled low over her face. She scans around the room before going deeper into it. There are not many patrons, the loudest of which are a group of Dragonarmy soldiers in the corner of the room. The other customers are giving them plenty of room, with at least one empty table between them. It is clear the Dragonarmy soldiers have been harassing the others. Raaksida steps further into the room, and a large hulk of a man follows her in. "Oi," a burly officer calls from the group in the corner, "Oi, wee thing." The kender ignores the man, and keeps heading towards the bar at the back. The man stands up, too quickly for his state, and rocks for a moment. He then storms his way across the tavern, reaching the bar at the sametime the hooded female does. Raaksida pulls her hood down, still ignoring the man. The barkeep looks between the man and the kender, clearly uncomfortable. "I said, 'Oi, wee thing," the man stops for a moment after Raaksida removes her hood, then continues, "Everyone has been buying rounds for the heroes here, and since you are a kender, I imagine most the coin in your purse came from someone else's." The young man beside the kender begins lowering his hand towards his sword, but the priestess stops him with a glance. "I see no heroes here. And even though most my coin does come from others, that does not mean I will pay your extortion fee," Raaksida says, flashing the man a huge grin. The tattoos on her face contort to make her look almost demonic. The man bristles at the insult, "You will pay what is owed the soldiers of the magnificent goddess, Takhisis." The man seems proud of himself for his following the Dragon Queen. The kender gives a jovial laugh, and as she does, she responds, "I have heard her called many things, magnificient is the furthest off. I would probably go with whore." The man's face turns red from anger, and he stammers, "You dare call her that, in front of one of her clerics?" The man reaches out with both hands and lifts the small woman off the ground by the front of her robes. She continues to laugh, now directly in the man's face, "I did not realize you were one of her chosen." As she talks, she deftly pulls a vial from a pouch and dumps its contents into her hand, "I am sorry you serve such a whore." She waits for the man to open his mouth to retort, then raises her hand and blows the powder in his face. The man immediately begins coughing, and Raaksida goes to work. Her charred and rotting hoopak is a blur as she lands many quick blows to the man's knees, finally sending one to the ground. The young man that entered with her steps up to meet the other two soldiers as they cross the room. The grin on the kender's face is short lived however, as the man pulls a slender rod with markings on it from his belt. He speaks a word of prayer, and a spectral shield with the five headed dragon on it, appears around it. He does not waste time, and lunges forward and bashes the shield in her face. She tumbles backwards, but manages to spring back to her feet. She wipes the blood from under her nose as the man removes the mace from his belt.
The man follows Raaksida's eyes to the hoopak at his feet. He gives a laugh then kicks it, sending it across the room. He begins stalking towards her, hefting his mace as he draws closer. Raaksida can now hear the sounds of fighting coming from behind her, and knows there will be no help in this fight. She reaches to the heavy flail at her side, letting the heavy spiked ball fall to the ground. "Are you sure you know how to wield such a thing, wee girl?" the man says before taking a swing with his mace. Raaksida is able to get her flail up in time to slow down the blow, but the mace head lands squarely on her ribs, sending the air from her lungs. She staggers backwards, gasping for air and dragging the flail along with her. Her mouth begins moving as she struggles for breath. The man stalks forward slowly, "You see, little missy, the gods have returned, and chief among them is my Queen, Takhisis." The priestess stops dead, no longer gasping for air, and no longer mouthing words. Her voice goes from jovial and playful, to hollow and raspy, "Not all the gods truly left." She then hefts the flail with renewed strength, swinging the head around in slow lazy circles. The man makes another swing at Raaksida, but this time she is able to parry it with ease. She follows the parry with a one handed swing that is blocked by the spectral shield. However, the man is knocked backwards slightly, the grin now gone from his face. He attempts to bash her with the shield once more, but this time she deftly hops backwards. A coughing fit wracks his body briefly, and the blood seems to drain from his face. Raaksida now stalks forward, preparing a blow with her bronze flail. Gripping the handle with two hands, the little kender brings down the flail head with all her might. It clears the top of the raised shield and connects with his face, and he deliriously slumps to the floor. The spectral shield winks out of existence as he hits the ground, but the slender rod remains in his hand. The kender takes her time hanging the handle and head of the flail back on her belt, despite the clashing of swords behind her. She then reaches down and plucks the rod from the man's hand, and bats away his feeble attempts to grasp at it. The priestess studies the rod, discovering markings of every god from the dark pantheon. She giggles at it, then tucks it into her belt. She then drops down onto the man, straddling his chest, a mocking pout worn on her face. "You poor dear. You know that you are bleeding to death, right?" she says, unsettlingly calm with the jovial kender back in her voice. She then covers his neck where one of the spikes must have caught an artery. With sarcasm dripping from every word, she states, "It would do no good for you to die like this, oh great hero." She lifts her hand away after a quick prayer, revealing the healed portion of his neck. She leans over and kisses the man on his mangled forehead as he passes out. Hopping up, Raaksida looks over to see how her protector was faring, just in time to see him removing his rusting sword from the last of the soldiers. She frowns at him, and speaks with command, "What have I told you about killing them like that?"
The man puts a look of regret on his face, then shrugs his shoulders and sheathes the sword under his tattered cloak. As he does, the kender priestess turns to the barkeep. He looks at her face, covered in both her blood and the other man's blood, then gives her a mortified look. "What is the matter, my son? I have taken care of the men that have been chasing away business." She studies him a moment, "Is there something on my face?" She reaches up to her face, then looks at her hand. "Oh, right, well I will need a place to wash up. And could I get a good red wine, and something for my friend?" Some time later, the two depart the tavern cleaned up, but bruised. Raaksida already has two large black rings around her eyes, is breathing with a slight wheeze and favoring her side. The man, however, seems untouched. As they are nearly out of the town, they come across a mage slumped in the grass along the side of the road. The priestess hurries to the man. "My son, you are not well. Let me help you. What is your name?" "Hannakus," the mage replies weakly.
The red robe mage tells a tale of woe in the Great Moors, and with his dying breath, informs Raaksida that he had to leave behind a young kender girl. The mage has perished, but the cleric decides that she will try and find this lost kender. Perhaps this little one can be saved, unlike the unfortunate mage. The kender and her companion, far from the Great Moors, decide they need transportation. Raaksida sends her companion back into the town to grab some horses. He comes around the corner riding one horse, and leading a second, smaller horse. As he grows closer, she sees a bloody handprint on the side of his speckled horse. He notices her glance and preemptively says, "I left him alive." She gives him a nod and a small smile, then mounts the painted mare. They waste no time putting the animals into a full gallop.They are quiet on their travel, the wind rushing past their ears would make it hard to converse anyway. The two push their mounts to the point of exhaustion. The cleric saying a prayer and granting them further stamina to proceed at their pace, many times. As they reach the town the mage had mentioned hiring their mercenary crew, the horses collapse from fatigue. Raaksida places her hand on the mare's head, and its eyes roll back in its head and it convulses for a moment before going still. She does the same with the speckled horse, then they approach the nearest inn. Leading, as is usual, the kender walks up to the bar in the sitting room, "Excuse me, my son, might you know who I could talk to about a band of mercenaries hired recently to hunt down a couple of gnomes?" "I don't know nothin bout no gnomes, but that feller over there is the mayor," the barkeep says, pointing to a portly, red cheeked man. Her companion takes a seat at the bar and orders a drink as Raaksida approaches the man, deep into his mug of ale. "I understand you are the mayor?" "Aye, little lass, that is me." "I do not suppose you would be able to tell me about the mercenary crew you hired just recently, would you?" A deep scowl forms on the man's face. "Those scoundrels? They took our money and never returned with their prey. Thieves the lot of them!" he says, slurring his words. "To be sure," Raaksida replies, knowing full well the whole group died in the swamp, "I doubt it, but has a young kender girl come through here recently?" "No, ma'am, no kender other than you." The cleric frowns, "Could you point me in the direction the mercenaries went?" "Aye, I can that," he says, pointing, "They went that way." She frowns once more, "You have been more than helpful, Mr. Mayor." She leans in and gives the man a kiss on the forehead, then walks towards the door. Her companion meets her outside a few moments later, "Then man was of no help, we will have to find our way." The two set off into the swamp, the priestess trusting her deity will guide her to this poor lost child.
Raaksida sips the red wine the barmaid has brought her, then glances over to her protector. The hulk of a man leers at the barmaid as she walks away, then turns to meet the little kender's gaze. "He has not spoken to me in some time, perhaps we need to make a sacrifice?" she says, absently, in a raspy hollow voice. Her voice then changes to jovial as she addresses the man, "What do you think, my dear?" The massive human wearing a tattered traveling cloak and patches of plate armor covering in a dusting of rust, shrugs his shoulders and casually glances around the room. After a brief, uninterested assessment, he shrugs once more. "Well, that is of no" she cuts off as she spots a theiwar traveler preparing to leave the tavern. She grins as he begins to make his way to the door, "I believe I have found my sacrifice." The mercenary grins as his hand falls to the sword at his side, "Will you be needing my help?" The kender looks to him, then shakes her head, "I believe He wants me to do this alone. Watch my things." The man slumps a little, clearly disappointed, but nods his understanding. Raaksida stands retrieves her long brown coat from the back of the chair she is sitting in. She does not stop to dust the dirt from the floor off, and slides the coat on to cover her dark grey clerical robes. Leaving her bag behind, she makes her way out of the tavern and into the night. She spies the man making his way down the street. The kender pulls the translucent veil across the bottom half of her face, then the hood of her robes over her head. Once the large hood covers her head, she sets off after the man, waiting till they are in a quiet part of the town to confront him. As she approaches, she senses the taint of another deity about the dwarf and her expression within the darkness of her hood becomes anger. Her grasp on the charred and rotting hoopak tightens. She pulls out a vial of dust from within her robes and dumps the contents into her hand. Once she is close enough, she brings the hoopak down hard on the back of the dwarf's knees. She then blows the dust into the theiwar's face as he turns to see what hit him. Two jewel adorned blades appear in his hands and he slashes wildly with them, forcing her to step back. The space gives the dwarf the room to turn and kick a spray of dirt and gravel into her eyes. Raaksida brings out a rod from her belt, and suddenly a spectral shield appears around it. She holds it up in front of her blindly, as she attempts to rub the dirt from her eyes. She can feel strike after strike bouncing off the shield. Occasionally, a slash gets through that opens a gash on her arm or shoulder. Finally, she is able to clear the dirt from her eyes enough to see the dwarf's attacks, and begins actively defending herself against the combatant. As she defends herself, she whispers a prayer under her breath. Once the prayer is complete, she lunges forward with the shield. The lunge successfully connects with more power than the kender should ever have been able to generate. The dwarf is sent flying a few paces, but rolls back to his feet instantly. Seeing he may be out matched, he turns and begins to run. Raaksida lets the shield wink out of existence, then pulls a smooth stone from one of her pouches. She loads the stone into the leather seat at the top of the weapon, then draws it back, loosing it at the dwarf. The stone finds its target at the back of the dark dwarf's head and he crumples to the ground. Raaksida runs the short distance to the semi conscious body, then begins kicking. As she kicks the prone dwarf, her hood falls from her head revealing fury that is accented by the tattoos that wrap around her head to her face. She kicks the dwarf till blood begins to emerge from his mouth and nose. She then straddles him and sits down on his chest. Her look now becomes that of a jovial kender, "Do not worry, my child, you have been chosen." With this said, she leans down and kisses the theiwar's bloody forehead, leaving a lip shaped mark on it.
The priestess sits on a stoop in a busy part of the city as she waits for her companion to return from the task she sent him on. As she sits with her legs dangling off the ledge, she takes a bite from a large chunk of bread before ripping off that piece and handing it to a local street kid, before repeating the process for another. As she does so, she wears an insidious grin that seems fiendish with the tattoos that wrap around her head to converge on her face. Once the bread is gone, the little kender drops from her perch and begins to make her way out of the busy city square when she hears a gruff call, "Hey, little thing, are you lost?" To her, most ogres look the same, but spotting this one in the crowd is easy. The ogre is obviously well fed with his large gut. He chuckles at her quizzical look, but then frowns at the gesture she throws his way. He turns towards her and begins to stomp her way. The fiendish grin crosses her face once more and she pulls her translucent veil over her face. Her oversized hood then comes up and over her head causing her face to disappear within. Raaksida ducks through the crowd to the center of the square and hides behind a statue from the beast now chasing after her. As she hides, she pulls out a vial from one of her pouches and pours a fine grey powder into her hand. The ogre moves all around the statue looking for his prey, while his prey bides her time. Finally, he comes close the statue, and as he passes by, she taps him on the shoulder. He turns around enraged, and she blows the powder in his face. The ogre stumbles backwards as he coughs and tries to rub the powder from his eyes. As he tries to regain his senses, she pulls a rod from her belt and with a word, a spectral shield appears around it. She then casually pulls a massive bronze flail from her belt and lets the head drop to the ground with a thud. The ogre regains his senses enough to raise his spiked club and begin launching attacks in the direction of his assailant, despite the powder having blinded him. Raaksida raises the spectral shield and weathers the assault as the shield's magic thrums with every hit. After the the ogre begins to tire, the priestess attacks with quick targeted swings of the flail that quickly wear down her opponent. The ogre, seeing his situation is desperate, turns and runs blindly through the crowd. Raaksida takes her time fitting her flail back to her belt and the rod back in its pouch, then follows behind. She finally finds the ogre down a small alleyway and with a prayer to her god, launches a sickly green lightning bolt at him. The first one strikes true and he turns to run from the onslaught, still blind. The kender whispers one final prayer to her god, this time the the lightning bolt is followed by another, much larger bolt. The first one strikes home, lifting the ogre off his feet to slam against the ground. He makes as if to get up when the second slams him back into the ground and causes his body to convulse.
When the ogre's body finally stops flailing, Raaksida jumps up onto his chest and sits down. She pulls a dagger from her sleeve as she leans in and speaks in an almost motherly tone, "Oh, you poor dear. I will make it all better." She drags the tip of her dagger across his sweaty face, then places it over his eyelid. "You really should learn how to talk to your betters." She moves to put her weight behind the dagger and plunge it deep into his eye when she suddenly stops, then cocks her head as if listening to something. The fiendish grin returns to her face and as she speaks, her motherly tone is gone, replaced by a hollow raspy whisper, "You, my dear, are a very lucky creature. You get to receive the greatest gift of all." The kender leans further over the ogre, and takes his face in her hands, then kisses him on the forehead. The site where she kisses him begins to writhe, and as she pulls back from his face, a red festering wound in the shape of her lips remaining behind. She sheaths the dagger up her sleeve, then hops off the ogre and sashays back down the alleyway whistling a haunting tune. As she does, she spins her charred hoopak which makes its own whistling noise to accompany her own. OOC: As promised, here is the story for the pk yesterday.
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
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