An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Ralleos.

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 tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Ralleos' scribed in light blue ink.

Author:    Ralleos        
Date:      Thu Oct  1
22:41:49 2009
Subject     Going out into the world.

A
young man circles an older man, a look of pure hatred on his
face. The
boy, Ralleos Von Drake, was training with his father
Meric, who was a cruel
man who often beat Ralleos for the
slightest mistake. Granted, Ralleos had
be come a decent fighter
because of this, but he hated his father with a
passion. With a
grunt, Ralleos jumps forward, swinging his wooden sword at
his
father in an arc. Meric deflects the blow and sends Ralleos
spinning
with a massive blow to the face. Ralleos hits the ground
hard and curses,
wiping blood off his lip. "Youre Pathetic, boy.
Theres no way you came from
my loins." Meric says as he spits on
the ground and turns to walk away.

Uttering a curse as he
stands, Ralleos pulls a dagger out of his boot and
leaps forward,
plunging the dagger into Merics side. He pulls his father
close.
"Tell me, am I pathetic now father?" He whispers as he wrenches
the
dagger back and forth in his fathers back. He pushes the man
forward and
Meric stumbles before falling to his knees, holding
the massively bleeding
wound in his side. Ralleos walks calmly
over to where his sword was and
draws it from the sheath.
"You..no good.." Meric starts to say but his words
are cut off as
Ralleos sword passes through his neck. Ralleos watches as
his
fathers head soars through the air and lands face down in the
dirt.

He spits on the beheaded body before turning and walking
away. He cleans the
blood off his blade and sheathes it before
moving into the house and
gathering his belongings. With what he
needed in a pack on his back, he
grabs a torch and tosses it into
the house before shutting the door. He was
free now, at least
free from his father. Another had been calling to him, in
his
dreams and in his heart. With a smirk he pulls his hood up over
his head
and walks off into the world, the house up in flames
behind him. 

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.'