The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Selvenra.
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 large tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Selvenra' scribed in faded orange ink.
Author: Selvenra Date Sun Mar 23 13:52:34 2003 Subject An apothecary's promise. Our story begins in the lands of Silvanos, city of Balinost. My house......I still remember a warm fire, the smell of the birchwood and the rose petals thrown in. The Soft chairs, distinguished carvings, and the glyph my father brought from the last great war. The one with our family insignia, The Re'asill mark, mark of the Apothecaries guild. I was warned by my father of its strange powers, Given to him by a strange magician he said. I cant feel its power now, where I am......So far from my family, and friends, forced into a self-imposed exile, to avoid my own destruction at the hands of these men. I know why i would be hunted, I know the powers that allow them to call an innocent man a renegade. Ive seen the horrifying power of accidental magicks, wild magicks.....that were never meant to be cast. The Re'asill name is built upon our skill as brewers, though all most know is our wine. The Re'asill wine is the smoothest of elven wine, greatest tasting, and most awarded wine in most elven histories. Though what most dont understand is that an adult has never brewed a bottle of wine. The adults brewed the potions and cures for all the town, which cost more than it made for our family. In order to offset this cost, we began the brewery All the children were versed in the methods of brewing a fine wine. The adults trusted us the children with this task which funded our family and endeavors well. We were able to get rare reagents, and potion recipes to save more people. At the age of 80 I was to begin my apprenticeship with my father and say goodbye to the wine trade, to stop brewing the wine i never tasted. I learned many things in my apprenticeship such as how to process most reagents for potions. Bitterroot, Wormwood, Nightshade, and many other deadly potent poisons were made safe to imbibe in small doses and their curative properties were released through my work. Though I enjoyed my work immensely, I was quickly becoming more intersted in the brewing of the potions, And after asking my father to verse me in these ways many times, I was then allowed to watch him brew a potion of light healing. Many do not realize the fine line between a healing potion and a cancelling potion. For a healing potion to work the first step is to numb the pain.....Bitterroots anelgesics, quickly did this while the processed wormwood began to mend the wound till it was healed. However a twinge of magic changes this potion drastically....the reagents reacted quickly to my aura apparently and began to spark and flare......I was lucky to be standing behind my father when the potion began to bubble. The resultant blast took his life......and my innocence. I felt my power sucked into the potion in that moment.....that final moment of his existance.....I bless you my father even in death.....till I see you. The blast shook the house.......cracking the glyph my father recieved. The magic spread forth from the glyph souring the vineyard and our income as a family. After the grieving period I was allowed to speak of my fathers last moments.....After telling my family of my feelings the moment before they quickly asked me to get the glyph repaired. They said to do this I must find the conclave of mages. I can still see my mothers eyes and the tears with which she told me of this....Her motives not clear to me I seeked Wayreth for 10 years....hearing all I could and feeling my aura grow ever stronger. Now I feel that my trip may be nearing an end and the power is more than i can control myself. The weight of the glyph reminds me of my purpose as I stride past the Vallenwoods on my way to the Tower.
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