The Great Library of Palanthas
An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.
Stories of Ansalon from the view of Sikandar.
A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap 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 leather bound tome with glowing glyphs on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Sikandar' scribed in burnt maroon ink.
Author: Sikandar Date: Sun Sep 7 00:48:47 2014 Subject About time!
Sikandar chuckled as he set down the piece of fine parchment down on his desk. With a smile, he stroked his long, white beard and stared into the flickering candle on his desk. He had long ago given up ever being noticed by the Conclave of High Sorcery and had instead busied himself with helping the population of Garnet. Respected for his benevolence and tireless work for the community, none in Garnet mentioned that, though he was not of the Order of High Sorcery, he still donned immaculately cleaned white robes every morning. He had a knack for finding where help was needed, although he attributed this to his long and almost consuming study of divination. And so it was that he would wander about the city, helping people mend broken objects, giving advice, telling stories to adults and children alike, and resolving petty disputes before they grew into conflicts. In the evening he would return home and study whatever paltry spells were in his grandfather's spellbooks. He had held this routine for well on thirty years, ever since his wife had died in childbirth, taking their unborn son with her. The only break in his schedule occured on his annual visit to their graves. As a testament of his good deeds to the city, he never visited the graves alone, but instead found them covered with more flowers and tokens of care then the previous year. And now, he would have to leave all of this behind. He had been noticed and would now have to make the long journey to Wayreth. He would be leaving behind the city he had called home for more than six decades, the only one he had ever known. Sighing, a bemused smile still on his face, Sikandar grabbed a quill and began to write a noet to tack to his door, informing Garnet's inhabitants of his departure. "I will return," he finished the note, "though I cannot say with certainty when."
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
\n