An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Snorgle.

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 giant book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Snorgle' scribed in dull brown ink.

Author:    Snorgle        
Date:      Mon Oct  9 13:31:14
2017
Subject     Reality Bites

Behold, the dance of life and
death.

Snorgle and the wolf circled each other, goblin red eyes and golden
wolf
eyes locked. The wolf had its black lips peeled back, exposing its
slavering
jaws and long sharp teeth. Snorgle had his spear raised in his left
hand,
poised to strike. The wolf dropped low, and a deep throated growl rose
from
its throat. Snorgle shook his spear, the two rat skulls tied under the
sharp
point rattling together in answer to the wolf's threat. Snorgle tensed,
and
as the wolf leaped at his throat, he thrust out, releasing the spear in
a
throw. The blow struck true, the spearpoint entering through the wolf's
open
jaws and exiting out the back of its skull. Mid leap, the wolf went
boneless
and landed with a thud to the ground, rendered harmless in death.
Bending
down, Snorgle grapsed the haft of the spear and gave a jerk, removing
the
weapon from the corpse with the sickening sound of steel sliding over
dead
meat. He shoved the stick point down into the forest floor, and took out
his
skinning knife, flipping it and catching it by the handle. He approached
the
corpse. Winter wasn't too far off now, and a nice wolfskin cloak might
be
exactly what he needed.

He crouched down and made his first cut, slitting
the wolf down the middle.
He expected blood, but not what happened next. A
handful of objects fell out
onto the ground. He picked one up, his brow
wrinkling in confusion. It
appeared to be a braised turkey drumstick. Snorgle
held it under his nose
and sniffed. It smelled normal, but he didn't trust it
enough to eat. He
reached into the slit in the wolf's belly, and was even more
confused by
what happened next. He pulled out a leather drinking skin, about
half filled
with liquid based on the sloshing he heard from inside. Snorgle
placed the
skin on the ground, and reached into the dead wolf once more. He felt
a
handful of small objects. Pulling them out, he noticed they were small
tiles,
some of wood, some of cork, some of exotic materials like dolemite,
each with a
small letter in Common inscribed upon it. One had an "O",
another a "Q". What in
the world could these be for? And how did they ever
get INSIDE a dead wolf?
Snorgle began to feel uneasy. This wasn't natural.
He thought of what the
shamans said, that reality itself was out of balance,
the gods had turned their
backs on the world, and strange things like this
might start to occur. Dropping
the handful of tiles, he reached a trembling
hand back inside the wolf again. He
came out holding a collection of various
dice of different sides. Small cubes,
little pyramid shapes, and more exotic
many sided dice. He flung them to the
ground, now becoming frightened. He
looked down at the wolf in disgust, now.
What was going on? Standing up and
brushing the leaves from his legs, he studied
the tableau before him. A dead
wolf, and an armload full of useless items that
just seemed to appear on its
corpse, more than should have been possible without
magic. Snorgle back up a
few steps, turned, and began walking back towards his
village at a quick
pace. Soon, he was trotting. He finally broke into a
run.

Snorgle decided that he had enough warm pelts in his tent. Enough for
winter
after all. 

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 mentions 'We have had over 868 storytellers on Ansalon pen their epic stories here for all to read.'