An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Thaeden.

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 heavy platinum-covered book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Thaeden' scribed in black ink.

Author:          Thaeden
Date    Sat Dec  3 14:03:38 2005
Subject  Deviant

 Day of Cuprig, 17th the Month of Dry-Anvil, Year 376 Post
Cataclysm 
 
I often wandered amongst the great Plains of Abanasia, searching
for new 
herbs to perhaps use as spell components.  It was on one such
trip that I 
happened to find a very rare weed that happened to be
particularly 
poisonous.  Mind you these were the Plains of Abanasia, not the
Swamps of 
Taman Busuk making this find even more rare.  As I set my bags
and spell 
pouches aside I procured a bit of shade from a nearby bush.   
 
It was then that as I stooped to retrieve the plant that I heard
a horse in 
the distance.  Frowning I stood up to see who it was when the
horse - as 
indeed it was a horse - blew by me and I heard a thud.  With
another frown I 
turned around to see a man on his face with a dagger in his back.
 It then 
occured to me that he was on top of my weed.  Furious, I
proceeded to kick 
him until he rolled off of it.  But Alas! , My weed was crushed
and no 
longer usable.  Furious at the man - whom I hoped to be still
living but 
presumed to be dead - I turned to gather my spell components to
use upon him 
when - to my dismay - I found a rather ugly man rummaging through
them.   
 
As the man was unaware of my presence I reached for my mace, only
to spot it 
lying next to my spell pouch.  Apparently my Lord was out for tea
at the 
time, for when I prayed to him I received no answer.  Racking my
mind 
frantically I became resolved to the only available course of
action.   
 
I snuck up behind the mand and proceeded to bite his kneecaps.   
 
Yes this might seem odd, but it worked rather magnificently. 
Screaming in 
pain, the man dropped my pouches and fled for his life - or
should I say 
limped for his life?   
 
Gathering what was left of my bags and pouches I returned to
where the 
former man lay to find him groaning and rolling over.  Back on
top of my 
weed.  Only further enraged I kicked him in the head, knocking
him out for 
hopefully some time.   

Author:          Thaeden
Date    Sun Feb  5 21:05:37 2006
Subject  Fiends of War (#3)

Gazing from the shadows of the Nerakan forest, the figure
speculated on
the activity inside the walls before him.  He had reports that
these
troops were suiting up for war.  Unfortunately for the
inhabitants of
Neraka this dark robed figure belonged to the sacred cult of
Morgion
worshippers.  The figure had specific, illicit instructions to
make sure
that this city started the war not unscathed.  And he was going
to see
to it that he followed out his instructions.

________________________________________________________________________
___

A tavern keeper in Neraka walks out of his cellar carrying three
dead
rats in one hand and pinching his nose with the other. 
Grumbling, he
proceeds to take the rodents out back to the dumpster.  At that
same
time, several cats were wandering the streets of Neraka looking
for a
meal.  Searching the dumpsters, many of them were fortunate
enough to
find newly deceased rodents.

________________________________________________________________________
___

There were also several birds of prey in the area, and the common
food
was beginning to be scarce.  Fortunately, there were plenty of
rats in
the area.

________________________________________________________________________
___

As the week drew to a close there were many scavengers and birds
of prey
found dead.  Yet, in a city of evil these deaths were not noted,
nor did
there appear to be anyone showing any concern.

________________________________________________________________________
___

In fact, in one army camp, a certain ogre was overjoyed as he
brought in
two dead hawks to share with his companions that night for
dinner...

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.'