An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Tyrolan.

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 leather bound tome on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Tyrolan' scribed in faded purple ink.

Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Wed Jun 25 19:21:20 2008
Subject     Background and Petition for the Conclave (Black)


Tyrolan never had a real hard life growing up.  He never had to
worry about
money or food.  He never had to fight to get his way.  In fact,
the
majority of his childhood would be that of any other child.

He grew up within his Aunt's home in Kalaman.  It was a place
that any kid
would give up a years worth of sugary sweets to live. It had
crooks and
crannies everywhere!  Being from a well to do family of Silk
Merchants, his
Aunt lavished whatever his heart's desire was at the time.  If he
wanted to
learn something, she would provide it.

This went on throughout his childhood.  Excitingly learning about
everything he could.  He had texts, tutors, and equiment were at
his
disposal.  A typical childhood, albeit a bit excentric and well
off.

His affinity for learning things finally caught up to him in
school. The
other teenagers scorned him for setting the curve so high.
Everytime they
could, they would prank, tease, or bully him as children do. 
After a time,
he started to resent this.  Even his childhood friend Cal started
to notice
the deep brooding that was starting to billow from him.

Tyrolan would spend days locked away in his room to whatever
ends.  The
curtains drawn shut during the day, a single candle lit his room.
 He
scoured over his studies, constantly striving to be the best.
Near daily,
he would go down to the local book shoppe to keep his interest.

On one day, a particular looking book for beginner magi showed on
the
shelf.  "What is that?" he pondered as he ran his hand across the
spine of
the book.  It tingled, strangely in a familiar way.  Lifting it
from the
shelf, the clerk noticed his interest.

"I see that you found another one..." he stopped short as he
noticed
Tyrolan looking over the pages.  "Bah, you sure you want that
accursed
thing?" the shop keep stated in disgust.
(to be continued)


Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Wed Jun 25 19:30:44 2008
Subject     Background and Petition for the Conclave (Black)
2


(continued) Tyrolan didn't respond right away, looking over the
crisp, yet
aged pages.  "Some crazy lady from the south end came to sell me
some
books.  Apparently it was one of her deceased husband's. Bunch of
devil
worship and spirits, if you ask me."

Looking up from the pages, Tyrolan stated, "I'll take it!" The
shop keep
shrugged, finding that his protest would go unheeded. Knowing the
teen's
Aunt, he let him run off with it back to her place understanding
he'd get
paid soon enough.

The next few weeks were spent memorizing and reading the book. 
It was
beautifully crafted.  Black leather bound the book and spine
together, with
a simple leather strap for a latch.  It felt warm to the touch
and gave the
tingle every time his fingertips brushed the surface.  He knew he
had found
something special!

After studying it for those few weeks, he attempted his first
cantrip.  It
was simply designed to make a sparkle of light glow and float
over his
palm.  A few gestures and concentration of words, the rush of
euphoria
washed over his whole and delved to his palm.  For a brief few
moments, a
small sparkling light danced and shined over his palm.  Elated,
he spent
the next month studying more, trying to get better and better.

As he progressed, the spells grew either more dangerous or larger
that he
couldn't very well perform them in his room.  He started to
perform out on
the edge of town where he could do so in private.  His privacy,
however,
did not last long.  The other teens of the town caught wind of
his work.

They watched him, fearfully, as he performed cantrip after
cantrip, spell
after spell.  "So the super genius is a freak!" spat out one.

"Yeah!  We should stop him!  we'll be heroes for bringing down a
witch!"
another chimed.  All six of them approached him.  Lost in the
esctasy of
the magic, he didn't hear them approach. In fact, he didn't
expect anyone
to be here at all until something sharp exploded on the back of
his head
coursing through his skull.  He fell hard, placing a hand to his
head. 
Pulling it back, he noticed the thick red liquid on his fingers.

(to be continued)


Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Wed Jun 25 19:41:53 2008
Subject     Background and Petition for the Conclave (Black)
3


(continued)
"Well, well, well, the genius can't know EVERYTHING, can he?"
sneered the
leader of this group.  The others laughed, snickered, and jeered
along with
him.  They all held either rocks or sticks of various sorts. 
Tyrolan knew
he was in trouble, upset with himself that he didn't notice them,
and angry
with this scum that seemed to have the upper hand on him.  "Why
don't you
fight back? You know you want too?  What?  Too scared?" stated
the leader,
laughing while tossing a rock.  More rocks and cracks of sticks
beat
against him.  Dizzy, slowly losing consciousness, he tried to
defend
himself as best as possible.

As he started to pass out, a voice slowly sifted into his head.
It had the
weight of smoke, yet the slickness of a snake.  It wrapped around
his mind,
squeezing, "You can drown these rats. Drown them, burn them,
enslave them;
all these are at your disposal."

In his head he cried out, "How!?"

"Pledge yourself to Me.  Give Me your devotion and devote
yourself to the
Art.  I will show you how.  I will give you everything you will
ever need."
the voice whispered, awaiting a response.

Without hesitating, Tyrolan responded, "Yes!  Give me what I
desire and I
will pledge myself to you and the magic you grant!" A spark in
his very
being began to burn, hotter, and brighter.  His entire being
filled with
it, expanding to soaring heights.  He let himself be sucked in by
it,
enveloped in it, and consumed.

Hours must have passed when he awoke.  His eyes slowly focused
and adjusted
to the stars twinkling back.  Solinari and Lunitari were already
receeding
for the night.  However, another celestial body shown back at him
in plain
view.  Nuitari's black light shown brighter than all the stars in
the
heavens!

Standing up slowly, letting the dizziness pass, he looked about
the area. 
What had once been a peaceful hill with short green grass and a
single tree
is now a smoldering crater of blackened dirt, scorched corpses,
and a trunk
of a blackened tree.  A little disoriented and giddy from the
experience,
looked around at his handy work.  Noticing out of the corner of
his eye
movement, he quickly turned to see his friend, Cal, slowly
approaching.
(to be continued)


Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Wed Jun 25 19:51:34 2008
Subject     Background and Petition for the Conclave (Black)
4


(continued)
"What has happened here?  Tyrolan, what have you done?" he stated
in horror
in disgust.

"I only did what I had to do," he said coldly.  Brushing himself
off, he
started to walk towards Kalaman.

Stepping to block him, Cal pleaded, "We have to go report this! 
The guard
will understand that it was self defense!"

Scowling, Tyrolan retorted, "What authority do they have over me?
 I have a
higher calling.  Leave it as it is.  The wolves will feast on
their
corpses."

"I knew you have changed, but not like this!" stated Cal.

"What?  Are you going to go and report me?  Will you try to take
me in?"
Tyrolan sneered at his friend.

"I have too!  It's my duty to bring you in, even if it was in
self
defense!" he responded, continuing to step in his way.

"Do not test me.  We are friends, I'll give you that, but do not
intervere
with what I do.  I won't hesitate to kill you!" Tyrolan snarled
back.

Cal pulled a shortsword from it's sheath and stood in his path.
Pleading,
"You have become a monster!  Please, just let me help you."

Responding coldly, feeling the tingle of the magic again coursing
through
his being, "I no longer need your help."  Tyrolan lifted his hand
towards
the Cal as he charged and whispered a few words.  The tingling
increased
and crept its way up his arm.  A bolt struck out from his
fingertip and
struck Cal dead in the chest.  A look of horror and surprise
etched forever
on his face as he fell, lifeless.

A voice whispered in his head, "Come to Me.  Let us continue our
work and
further the Art.  Come to Palanthas and further your training."
He followed
the black light of the dark moon many days until reaching
Palanthas, the
great tower that resides there and his fate.


Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Sun Jul  6 20:20:06 2008
Subject     Apprenticeship and More!


After the first couple of months of staying at the Towers at
Wayreth, going
over multiple different spells over and over, he started to get
bored with
it.  Where was the power he was promised?  Where was the glory
and rewards
he wanted?

He would leave the Towers whenever the others were not looking. 
He had yet
to gain a Master to train under.  All the other new recruits were
being
picked up one by one.  Not being under one, gave him the freedom
to leave
and travel about the forests and lands surrounding.

As he was getting ready to leave again from the garden, he turned
to see a
black robed figure watching him.  Taken back and a bit shocked,
he stopped
packing.  Thinking to himself, What is going on with this?

"I can give you what you want," he stated bluntly.

What? he thought.  Was I speaking outloud?

"I see what you desire.  I see your frustrations.  I understand
your
desires, as they were once mine," he stated calmly.

Feeling the power flow and surround this blacked robed man even
gave
Tyrolan time to pause.  His normal cocky attitude subdued
slightly at the
awe of him.

"Can you truly give me what I want?" he asked, not questioning
any further
how he knew.

"Certainly.  In fact, there is much more I can show you other
than the
towers." he stated.

"What do you mean?  I will not betray the Dark Moon," Tyrolan
stated, his
eyes narrowing.

Chuckling, the robed figure shook his head, "Of course not, our
first
priority is definitely to the Art and our Master, but I can give
you even
more glory than the books sitting in these moldy tombs," he
states
flippantly towards the towers,

(to be continued)

Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Sun Jul  6 20:30:06 2008
Subject     Apprenticeship and More! (2)

(continued) 
"There is a storm coming and along with it, the clash of steel
and the
march of boots. But with it, the glory and rewards we are all
looking for.
Apprentice under me and find what you truly wish!"

Pondering this for a few moments, he nodded slowly, "Yes. I will
take your
sword. I will take your orders. I will take your sword. I need
this and I
will apprentice under you."

Turning to leave, the figure stated, "By the way, you may call me
Master Luerk."

Thinking to himself as his new master left, Let's see what this
brings me.
Let's see who will win my favor. Chuckling to himself, he turned
to go back
to the towers.

Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Mon Apr 13
19:48:21 2009
Subject     Events
brewing....

Life....life has been...stagnant. Tyrolan has
been spending weeks,
months, even years studying in the towers of
Wayreth. Many of the members of
his order have been out in the
field, studying various magical avenues.
There have been a few
apprentices coming through, but Tyrolan had very
little care of
their prattling. In fact, there has been a slight downturn in
the
number of apprentices showing up at his door in comparison to his
other
colleagues. 

Recently, he has found himself gating to
various cities and towns amongst
Krynn. Walking amongst the
streets, he sneers at the inhabitants. Without
his
self-discipline, he would have torched a number of them. Even
though the
rules of the Conclave do not state he could not, he
just found that it would
not be enough. 

Sitting upon a rocky
crag, near the Lords of Doom, he gazed into the
bubbling,
churning, angry lava, spewing its contents about the
crater.
Turning his gaze skyward, the black moon shone bright and
seemed to cut
through the plume of smoke rising from the Lords. A
greasy, slick voice
flowed through his mind.

"You squander
your gifts?" asked the voice.

"I do not, Lord, " stated
Tyrolan slowly as he bowed to the unseen
presence.

"There is
more magic you could be learning, more power to be gained,
more
magic to be spreading!" the voice stated angrily,
scolding. It struck
Tyrolan's mind like a hand to the face,
"You spend your days sitting alone
in your lab, going over well
known spells." 

Cringing, Tyrolan responded, "My Lord, I do
not do so to spite you. Things
just seem to grow slow in Your
order." Cautiously, he turned towards the
moon, "It just
seems there is more we can do to grow our power." 

Coolly, the
voice shifted tones. From a cold blade to a cool, heatless
night,
the voice responds, "You are correct, my mage. That is why
I
approach. You should know there are plans in the works and I
will have you
be a part of them." 

Tyrolan nods and responds
with, "Of course, my Lord."

"Go into Neraka and meet with
your "old" master, " snickers the oily voice,
"Meet with him
and let our works start." 

"As you wish, my Lord, " stated
Tyrolan calmly. With this, the voice left
his mind, sliding out,
but remaining potently burned into his conscious. As
Tyrolan made
his preparations to gate into Neraka, he pondered the events
soon
to turn. 

Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:     
Thu Apr 16 18:47:18 2009
Subject     Neraka and an
Offer

(Story will be short and sweet as the actual RP
went for about an hour. :P)

After waiting for days in Neraka,
his time came. The Dark Moon pushed and
pushed on him to go to
this meeting. He had been spending his days prior
sitting in the
temple to Nuitari and in the main temple to Takhisis.
Watching
his back and making sure that he would not be assaulted by
some
thug on the street, he deftly moved from block to block.


From behind, he heard a small clearing of a throat. He turned
to notice
Luerk standing behind him in the temple to Takhisis.
"Wonderful night, the
Lords of Doom glow brightly."

Nodding
and bowing to his first Master, he moved towards Luerk.
"I
understand that I was to find you here. It's been a long
time."

Chuckling, Luerk nodded, "There have been many things
in the works and I
have been busy." After discussing the recent
events and how Tyrolan had been
travelling Krynn, they came upon
an offer and a secret to be traded.

Luerk stated with all
seriousness, "Do you accept?"

Pondering the moment, the need
for the knowledge he was offering, Tyrolan
answered, "I would
be a fool not to take this offer."

"Then come with me, I
must introduce you to what you seek, " he stated with
an evil
grin. 

Author:    Tyrolan        
Date:      Fri
Apr  5 23:40:25 2024
Subject     Shadows of
Tyrolan

The name Tyrolan once echoed through the
halls of High Sorcery. His deeds
and exploits making a mark on
history like a haunting melody. Once a
formidable black-robed
wizard whose power rivaled the greater mages of Krynn
herself,
Tyrolan's story took a twisted turn after his death. 

In the
depths of the Abyss, where the shadows converge and
nightmares take
form, Tyrolan's essence lingered, a specter
of malevolence seeking respite
from the tortures and pains of the
Abyss. Unlike so many tainted souls, he
was doomed to be
shackled to the plane for his deeds in life. But fate had
a
different design for the fallen wizard. 

In the elven realm of
Silvanesti, where the forests whispered ancient
secrets and
magic flowed like the rivers, a young elf named Aeris
delved
into forbidden sorceries. A mere budding interest into
magic and not even
apprenticed, he had a hunger. Desperate to
unlock the mysteries of the
arcane, Aeris stumbled upon an
ancient tome buried within the depths of an
abandoned library.
Little did he know, the tome held the key to
Tyrolan's
return. 

In a reckless attempt to summon a
powerful spirit, Aeris attempted to invoke
the name of any fallen
wizard of the orders, unaware that the darkness took
heed. The
ritual spiraled out of control, tearing a rift between the
mortal
realm and the Abyss, and in a blinding flash of
black energy, Tyrolan's
spirit was pulled from the depths
of the Abyss into the mortal world once
more. 

But the
summoning was imperfect. Instead of binding Tyrolan to his
summoning
circle, Aeris found himself overwhelmed by the
sheer magnitude of the
wizard's presence. Like a shadow creeping
across his mind, Tyrolan's essence
seeped into Aeris,
intertwining their souls in a macabre dance of
dominance.

At
first, Aeris struggled against the invading force, but with
each passing
moment, Tyrolan's influence grew stronger, his
dark desires twisting Aeris's
thoughts and desires to suit
his own. The once-promising young elf became a
puppet, his
actions dictated by the malevolent will of Tyrolan. 

(To be
continued)

Author:    Tyrolan        
Date: 
    Fri Apr  5 23:43:22 2024
Subject     Shadows of Tyrolan
(cont)

As days turned into weeks, the elves of
Silvanesti noticed a change in
Aeris. His once-bright eyes
darkened, his demeanor became cold and distant,
and whispers of
darkness followed in his wake. Unbeknownst to them,
Tyrolan's
spirit had taken root within their midst, a silent
predator
lurking beneath the surface.

But even in the depths of
despair, hope flickered like a candle in the wind.
For within
Aeris's heart, a spark of resistance remained, a glimmer of
light
amidst the encroaching darkness. With every ounce of his
being, he fought
against Tyrolan's control, seeking
redemption for his unwitting role in
unleashing such evil upon
the world. 

And so, the stage was set for a battle of wills, a
struggle between light
and darkness, as the spirit of Tyrolan
and the soul of Aeris clashed in a
war for control. As the
days stretched into nights, Aeris's resistance
waned, his
spirit battered and broken by Tyrolan's relentless
onslaught.
Despite his valiant efforts, the young Silvanesti elf
found himself slipping
further into the nothingness with each
passing moment, his willpower no
match for the dark wizard's
insidious influen 

In a final, desperate attempt to reclaim
control, Aeris ventured deep into
the heart of the ancient
forest, seeking solace amidst the tranquil embrace
of nature. But
even there, he could find no refuge from the consuming
darkness
that threatened to engulf him. 

With a heavy heart and tears
streaming down his face, Aeris surrendered to
the inevitable.
His once-bright eyes, now clouded over with a sinister
{ppurple
glow, reflected the depths of his torment. His body, once
vibrant and
full of life, now stood emaciated and frail, a mere
shell of his former
self. 

As Tyrolan's malevolent laughter
echoed through his mind, Aeris realized the
truth: he had
failed. In his pursuit of power, he had unwittingly unleashed
a
force beyond his control, and now he would pay the ultimate
price. 

With a final, agonized cry, Aeris succumbed to
Tyrolan's dominance, his
spirit consumed by the darkness that
now reigned within him. And as the last
vestiges of his identity
faded into oblivion, Tyrolan, the black-robed
wizard, was
reborn, his reign of terror beginning anew. 

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.'