An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Valas.

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 an enormous book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Valas' scribed in dark purple ink.

Author:    Valas          
Date:      Fri Dec 12
09:23:10 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart.

The sun
was just beginning it's descent into the Blood Sea. Valas
walked
quietly down the streets of Flotsam taking in the scenary,
or, lack-there-of
with little enthusiasm. He pulled the hood of
his cloak lower and began
sticking closer to the shadows, not
wanting those few drunks still making
their way to the next pour
house to notice him. This was a city where one
was better off not
being caught unaware. Not that he was worried, he knew
none would
approach him and leave alive. 

Approaching a particularly
wretched establishment, he made his way inside.
The smell wafting
from the place would attract every gully dwarf for miles.
It
increased his lack of enthusiasm even more so, if that were
possible.
Wondering to himself why he decided to accept such a
job, for one of his
skill it seemed insulting. But his employer
was generous, and the sum
outweighed Valas' dismay. Thinking back
to his time in Kuri-Khan, the
notoriety that required him to make
an abrupt, yet swift departure made his
lips raise to something
of a half-smile. It did not reach his eyes. He truly
despised
gully dwarves. 

As he entered the smell increased even more so
making his eye twitch
noticeably. He quietly made his way to the
slab of splintered wood they
passed for a bar and ordered honey
mead. He scanned the room quickly, as the
bartender handed him
what must have been the cleanest glass in the room. You
could
almost see through the grime smeared on it. He tossed the
bartender a
steel coin, enough to cover a whole night in a hole
like this. Valas took
his glass and headed for the nearest
corner, table, closer to the shadows
dancing about the edges of
the fireplace. Noticing that the rest of the
"patrons" in the
mudhole went back to their business, he quickly poured his
drink
out and pulled a small flask from a hidden pocket in his cloak,
he
took a quick sip to wet his lips and quickly put it away, the
smell of mead
now coating his breath. 

He signalled for the
serving wench to bring another, and to keep them
coming. Sooner
or later his target would appear, he had every night for the
past
tenday. Valas knew his habits well enough now that it was time
to
garner the information he was sent to acquire. By whatever
means necessary
were the orders. 

2 hours later the door banged
open, the loud creak of leather and iron, a
steel sword slapping
against a buckles. He walked with a confidence that was
betrayed
by his nervous eyes, his boots scuffing the dirt floor more
often
than naught, white knuckled gripped hands at his sides,
close to a sword he
most likely knew how to use. The man was a
soldier. Perhaps a guard, but
military was written all over him.
Valas bowed his head slightly, looking
down into a half empty
glass and made a show of swaying in his chair
slightly as the man
looked about the room. The nine glasses lining his table
would
make the show seem genuine. 

Valas sat for another two hours,
pouring drinks out near the fireplace to
evaporate quickly,
studying the man, watching him drink, making sure not to
arrouse
the man's suspicions, though his cognizance was minimal at
best.
Valas didnt get to where he was by acting on assumptions.


Author:    Valas          
Date:      Fri Dec
12 15:36:05 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart (Weight and
Measure)

Another hour later the soldier stumbled out of
the place, Valas tossed
another coin to the bartender and gave
him a look that promised forgetful
behavior begets a longer
lifespan. In a swift move that could barely be
registered Valas
palmed a knife from some hidden sheath on his person and
stalked
out the door to follow. Valas watched the soldier continue
his
unstable gait, passing many buildings and alleys. Knowing the
man's route,
he picked his way up to the roof tops and began
running across them making
about as much sound as a spider
crawling across heavy carpet. He chose his
intercept point and
waitied, his hood and cloak pulled close against him.
He
completely blended into the shadows. 

As the man stumbled
below him, Valas crouched even closer to the rooftop,
coiling his
well honed muscle for a spring that would take him down
directly
on top of the man. He re-sheathed his knife and just as
the man turned
(probably sensing someone watching him or perhaps
just getting his bearings)
Valas leaped, the man looked up and
saw only a dark cape fluttering wildly
through the night with a
man attached. Valas tucked his legs up closer to
his body and
then flung them out straight into the man's face, turning
his
momentum at the exact moment of impact to roll away. The
soldier hit the
ground, hard, and Valas jumped up instantly,
turning to face him and take a
measure of any witnesses that
might be near by. Seeing none he quickly
binded the groaning
man's hands behind his back and wired his legs to allow
him to
walk, but not run. Valas quickly yanked him into a standing
position
by his hair and stared directly into the man's eyes.
From nowhere a dagger
was up against the soldiers throat.

He
spoke in a voice completely devoid of all emotion. "Now, 
my friend. You
shall tell me -everything- you know
about this knife I have been hearing so
much about... The look
in Valas' eyes left him no room to doubt his future,
or
lack-there-of, would be. 

To get his point across, he cot off
both of the man's index fingers, shoving
one into the soldier's
pocket, the other into his mouth then dragged him
away.


Author:    Valas          
Date:      Fri Dec
12 16:08:48 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart
(Questions...Questions...)

Valas dragged the soldier
along, his moans muffled by his own digit, to
an old run-down
wharf warehouse. The soldier, finally recovering somewhat
from
the shock of his ordeal, gathered courage at the fact there was
indeed
no fireplace at all. That was short lived however, as
Valas strapped him
securely to a wall and walked over to a corner
where a small box sat. He
picked up the box and walked slowly
toward the man, a look of annoyed
impatience glinting in his
eyes. "Do you know what this is?" The man stared
at him,
defiance clear in his posture. Valas stared hard at him for
several
moments. "It is a box. A small box with a metal
slide covering the only hole
in this box. Inside there is a
rat. I have kept the vermin in there for a
few days,  it
is quite hungry." 

"Now, you are going to tell me what I
want to know, because I am going to
make a fine meal. I
already know you are part of the Dragon Army. What I do
not
know, is why I have been sent on such a lowly mission for a
simple
knife." 

Valas walked over to the man, box in hand and
began strapping it around his
waist. As he finished buckling it
on he checked the man's bonds to make sure
he had no room to
move, cutting off circulation to his hands to stop his
other
wounds from bleeding out too much. He looked the man in the eye
as he
sliced a small gash into his chest to let the blood leak
down and tempt the
rats hunger. 

"I had the honor of escaping
a prisoner circus where this was done for sport.  It is quite
painful...  Most men soil themselves and beg for death long
before it is over.  Do hurry it up.  I was told there
were others who know as
much if not more than you.  You
were simply the easiest to start with."


(Had to log, more to
come.)

Author:    Valas          
Date:      Sat
Dec 13 00:50:34 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart. (The
Name)

Valas removed the pin locking the metal hatch into
place and pulled it
up, opening the slot just enough for the rat
to poke it's face out.
Immedietly the man started screaming in
abject horror, his eyes widened
until it looked as though they
would just fall out of the sockets. "Truly,
this not need be so
painful, all I desire is a name and a description."
Valas
pulled a simple worn dagger from his sleeve, and sat down
quietly
while the rat began to tear at the man's flesh. He
retrieved a whetstone
from his pouch and an oiled cloth, he began
to run the stone along his blade
in time with the man's screams.


"One name and the pain goes away. Surely they don't
pay you enough for such
a situation?" The man screamed in a
pitch normally reserved for choir boys.
Finally he began
screaming one name over and over. A title really. "Baroness
of
the Blue!." He repeated it over and over, and still Valas
merely sat and
watched as the rat made it's way into the man's
intestines. The man's
screaming raised yet another pitch that
Valas hadn't figured a grown man
could make. Finally, as blood
tinged froth began to come from the man's
mouth, Valas walked up
and neatly slashed his throat. Valas checked the
man's pockets,
finding little of use other than a few coins, in his
boot
however, was a description of the dagger. Looking down at
the man, Valas
flashed him a disgusted look and turned to walk
out. As an afterthought, he
looked back. 

"One can never be
sure of the truth, until death is involved. Perhaps
the
Gods designed you to die by my hand." Shrugging at the
corpse he turned and
walked away. "It appears I am going to
Sanction." 

Author:    Valas          
Date:  
   Wed Dec 24 08:43:03 2008
Subject     The Knife of Dracart.
(Damned the Luck)

The trip to Sanction was fairly
uneventful for Valas, a few minor
skirmishes with lesser beings,
but nothing unexpected in such treacherous
territory. The roads
were still unusually busy. Not a good sign. Something
big was
happening and Valas was not a part of it, had very
little
information on it even. He knew this Knife must be
involved.

He had heard little else in the way of gossip during
this ridiculous
journey. He was entering foreign territory and he
was ill equipped. He knew
a new acquaintance from his recent
alliance with a mercenary band. The
minotaur was named Kaiba,
although not the most subtle of companions, he was
a hulking
beast. He was minotaur, and he carried other skills Valas
might
find useful. 

"Damned that Khan... I will most
certainly set up a meeting between this
precious knife of his and
his own lungs for sending me on this mission..."

Of course
Valas no longer considered the deal they made viable. The man
knew
more than he let on and did not tell Valas before hand. That
means he
considered the assassin expendable, it was insulting.
Few ever survived
Valas' displeasure. None who had ever insulted
him. Staring a little too
long at Kaiba, the minotaur looked at
him uncomfortably.

"Do not worry,  if what the Khan said
was true, we may yet make a fortune
from this venture. 
Or we will find our deaths." 

The minotaur merely nodded, he
wasn't much for speaking when he did not have
to. Valas was glad
for that. He was not the type to keep company on a
regular basis.
Valas continued his pace, with a few hours they would
reach
Sanction. The wind picked up slighly, Valas didnt like the
greasy feel or
the death filled stench of it. He draped his cloak
closer about him and
pulled his cowl low, hiding his face
completely. Resting his hands upon his
weapon pommels easily, he
just sighed and kept walking. 

Author:    Valas       
  
Date:      Wed Dec 24 09:15:33 2008
Subject     The
Knife of Dracart. (Damned the Luck cont)

Valas finally
reached the gate, he had slowed his gait to lag far behind
the
minotaur. It was better if no one connected them right away.
Valas and
the minotaur had agreed on a simple means of signalling
each other, he
passed Kaiba a small piece of reflecting glass,
kept one himself. They
continued along searching for some means
of finding out about the one known
as "The Blue Baroness" and
they were having little luck. 

Valas signalled to Kaiba shortly
before they came to an intersection in the
hideous city. He
realized they could search for days and find nothing, they
needed
a place to work from. Informants they could bribe, bully,
or
otherwise bluff into shedding some much needed information.
Seeing a shabby,
run-down inn on the corner he decided that it
was worth a shot. No one
important would be caught in a place
like that, and most would willingly
share rumors and such for the
price of a few cheap drinks. 

He let Kaiba enter first, staying
behind to get his bearings and note the
best exits from the inn
and the city itself. This place wasnt the type to be
kind to
strangers. Kaiba was stranger than most... Valas entered
after
awhile and found a quiet seat with his back to the wall and
a view of the
entire room. Kaiba was already starting trouble,
pushing the drunkards
around and probing about the knife in a
voice loud enough to annoy the
Gods.

Valas simply sat back and
watched everyone's reaction to the spectacle. None
took enough
interest to be suspicious, except for one man. He could not
be
identified other than he was armed, and well at that. Kaiba
chased the man
out of the inn... Not the plan Valas had in mind,
but as soon as he left
another curious patron entered. He was not
dressed like the scum that filled
such a place. His manner and
grace were not even human. It was obvious to
Valas who shared a
bit of elven blood himself. 

Kaiba re-entered shortly afterwards
and went back to the bar searching for
his next victim. Valas
decided the next victims had already presented
themselves. Both
were being a bit too curious and Valas knew then they had
to make
their move. He moved up next to Kaiba and spoke aloud some
nonsense
about his gratitude towards his latest victim and silent
pointed the elf out
to Kaiba. The minotaur was thick headed and
didnt quite get it. Frustration
over-ruling caution, Valas
chucked a glass at the elf and charged the well
armed stranger
while screaming for Kaiba to act! He finally did, and a
quick
battle ensued. Valas knew the dangers of attacking
outright, people he knew
nothing about. His suspicions were soon
confirmed. Kaiba was snoring loud
enough to shake the flimsy
walls of the inn, his own opponent was a well
trained soldier.
Valas could not hope to win. 


(The rest of this story can be
referenced from Dante's previous story -
Conscripting Informants.
It was all taken from a rather long IC Luerk,
Kaiba, Dante and I
did a short while ago) 

Author:    Valas         

Date:      Sun Dec 28 21:01:17 2008
Subject     The
Knife of Dracart. (Burning the Fields)

Valas looks over
at Dante coldly and simply shakes his head. "Whether you
care
to believe it or not, I am not your prisoner, I do not take
orders from
you, and I do not like you." He turns his thoughts
back inward, ignoring the
man's presence entirely. Valas had
little care for his current situation, he
was hunting a knife and
so he focussed on that. The problem was not going to
be easily
solved, it could be anywhere and he had not even a starting
point
to go from.

He considered the possibility that this was
some sort of a suicide mission,
he was being sent to take the
blame since the "powers that be" could not
find it. Valas simply
didnt care. He had been under the thumb of others all
of his
life. He hated them and he hated his inability to free himself
from
them. 

Shaking himself out of those feelings of weakness,
he decided a methodical
search would not suffice. It was time to
make some noise and get noticed. If
they could not find the
knife, perhaps the knife would find them. He looked
back once
again at the man who had beaten him in a fair fight not a
week
ago, deciding it was time to put the muscle head to use. A
plan began to
form in his head, it was comparable to catching a
snake with your bare
hands. You simply had to find what it was
after, make it come to you. 

"If all else fails... You simply
burn the whole field until it has nowhere
left to go." Valas
turned, walked down the plank as soon as the ship had
secured
it's lines to the dock.

He stood among the bustle of the
fishermen, merchants, and sailors who were
scurrying about
everywhere. "What a fine field to burn..." He smiled
grimly
then, if this mission were a failure, he could always
place the blame on the
others. After all, he was not in charge.


He waited for Dante and his brainless minions to catch up.
Perhaps he could
even angle the entire thing, success or fail,
into his favor. These soldier
types were never clever when it
came to intrigue or subtlety. He might even
be given a
comfortable spot among this army. He simply could not deny
that
they were a force in this world, perhaps one of the most
powerful given
time... 

Author:    Valas         

Date:      Wed Jan  7 13:05:06 2009
Subject     Knife of
Dracart (Because Im Going to Say Please)

Valas Lynch
stood quietly inside of the abandoned house staring hard at
his
latest source of information. A myriad swirl of thoughts were
running
through his head, most were just fleeting ideas on how to
pose his line of
questioning.

The man himself was tied to a foul
smelling chair, the last line of
questioning had been rough.
Stark fear was evident in his eyes and rigid
posture. It was also
evident in the growing puddle of blood and urine
collecting at
his feet.

"Why show such loyalty for someone who would most
likely leave you to this
grim fate? Is it perhaps because you
want this knife for yourself? Or do you
fear your "Friends"
more than you do me?"

The man groaned slightly, he was barely
clinging to consciousness. Valas
cursed his draconian escort,
cursed more Dante's lack of restraining them.
Valas produced a
small vial of harsh smelling herbs and liquids from one of
the
pockets in his cloak and dabbed it under the prisoner's nose. The
man
jerked awake, looking around the room in a dizzy manner.
Valas hoped he
wasnt brain damaged. The man slowly focussed upon
Valas, hatred manifested
itself as the man stared daggers right
through him. Good Valas thought,
still signs of defiance. Still
coherent. A more dire form of questioning was
necessary. 

Valas
nodded over to the fireplace, drawing the man's line of vision
there.
A simple stoker lay gleaming red inside of it, next to it
were the two
draconian "escorts." They were wrapped tightly in
many forms of cloth and
covered in robes.

"My comrades
(using the term loosely) grow impatient, they wish to be
off
from this cursed place. Quite simply, I will begin cutting
off various
pieces of your body. That stoker is to stop the
bleeding. I could keep you
alive for a very long time, no one
will recognize you after I am finished.
Heroics bore me, you see.
So you will tell me what you know, or I will begin
feeding you
pieces of your own anatomy. As you find yourself with
less
pieces, I will grow more tempted to toss whats left of you
into Shoikan
Grove. The undead that roam that place will devour
your soul, and I will
drink fine wine in memory to your
stupidity." 

The man paled visibly, and the look Valas gave
him showed in no uncertain
terms he would keep his promise.
"Now, tell me everything you know about
this knife, who has
been seen with it? What are the rumors as to it's
powers?"
Valas shot a cold look at Dante, who sat off at a table on the
far
side of the room eating his meal. Looking back at the man
Valas unsheathed a
knife that was serrated on one side and a
fillet edge on the other. The man
began sweating and finally,
proving his intelligence, began to scream for
help. Valas brought
the blade about in a flash and cut one of the man's
fingers off
neatly. Blood spurted and Valas nodded for the stoker. One of
the
draconians snatched it up and brought it to Valas, whom pressed
it
against the wound with a sickening sizzle. 

The smell of
burning meat and boiling blood filled the air. Valas passed
the
stoker off, turned to the man, grabbed a fistful of his hair
and jerked his
head back to look into Valas' cold eyes. No one
can hear you. We are in the
housing district near Shoikan Grove.
Perhaps you think me a liar. I will
know what you know, and if
you lie to me I will consign you to Chemosh and
find another who
is more cooperative.


Author:    Valas         

Date:      Wed Jan  7 13:29:48 2009
Subject     Knife of
Dracart (Because Im Going to Say Please-cont)

The man
squealed as the shock wore off and pain flooded his mind.
He
stared almost blankly at Valas, he had no choice but to look
into the eyes
of the man who promised something worse than
death.

Finally he began whimpering and blubbered something about
the knife being
said to drive people crazy. Valas was growing
impatient, he had heard all of
this already, but he waited as the
man continued.

The man stared right into Valas' eyes as if in a
trance, and spoke of the
people rumored to have been spotted with
it. If rumors were to be believed,
many various types were seen
with it, the last of which was spotted by many
Solamnic guards
hailing out of Vingaard, they mentioned a mage rallying them
to
battle a single monk. Apparently the "Honor" of the Solamnic
Knights was
merely just a rumor as well. Valas cared little. The
worst possible scenario
had just unfolded before him. A mage was
in possession of an artifact blade
of real power.

Valas closed
his eyes for a second to burn all of this into his memory
and
still his chaotic thoughts. Staring once again at the man,
Valas pulled his
knife and stabbed him right above his adam's
apple, striking his brain stem
and mercifully killing the man
fast. Things just took a turn for the worst
and Valas decided
that perhaps he should indeed make a report to this
Luerk
character. Valas did not like the idea of facing mages, he
knew well their
habits and motivations, and wanted nothing to do
with them. They were too
hard to track, too unpredictable.

He
motioned for the draconians to douse the house in potent liquor,
and
turned to Dante. "There is your information. I am done
here. I will go make
my report and you can decide what YOU are
going to do next." Valas stalked
off to an adjoining room to
grab his gear, on the way back he wiped his
blade off on the dead
man's clothing and reseathed it. 

He walked out of the house,
giving instructions to set the place ablaze when
they were
finished. He walked the shadows all the way to an
unremarkable
inn, bought a room for the night, and ate a large
meal.

After he finished, he wrote his report out, he pulled the
insignia given to
him by Luerk and touched it to the encased
scroll. The scroll simply
disappeared. Valas muttered something
about wizards and began setting traps
about the window and door.
Keeping his blades close, he fell into a light
sleep, alert as
always... No dreams came to him, they never did.


Author:    Valas          
Date:      Wed Nov
18 09:35:59 2009
Subject     The Whims of a
Murderer.

Its been years since my run in with that
gender-confused pretty boy whom
captured me in Sanction, I've
come to find my desires being met in full. I
want for nothing as
far as coin is concerned, I simply do the job I was
offered.

I
say "offered" in that it gives me a sense that my life is my own
to
control, a delusion that gets me by, a necessity. I was hired
to wreak
carnage on the outlying hick nobility serving the
Solamnic Knights. He
always knows where I am... I think I might
be growing paranoid. I used to be
an assassin, hired out to the
highest bidder, professional, but now it's
just... fun. I find I
have to kill, like a drug or some kind of sickness
that I cant
shake. Everyday as I wander town to town, my guise as a
simple
herbalist covering my true intent... During the day I make
a show of curing
illnesses, small wounds, aches and pains,
fevers... I decide whom will
become the next to meet their God
face to face. Perhaps it's my mind's way
of compensating for the
control I've lost over myself, I control them
instead. I try not
to think about it.

I used to have rules, no women, no
children... Only those that would pose a
challenge. Now it hardly
matters. I watch the light fade in their eyes as my
blades grind
against bone gristle, the ripping of flesh, the smell of
warm
blood slowly coagulating... 

Night is the worst, I think.
That is when the urge seems to become
unbearable. Several small
communities and even larger cities have set their
bounty hunters
to find me, to even discover whom was responsible... Ive
killed
many of them as well, torturing them slowly when time
permits.
Seeking information on the next fool who thinks himself
good enough to claim
the thin purses on my head. If they knew the
truth they would have asked for
more.

It wasnt until recently
that I heard the rumors of armies massing to the
carrion call of
War's trumpet. I knew then that my antics would no longer
be
tolerated. Ive spent a month making my way back through the
Solamnic claimed
territories, a harried flight back to more
hospitable lands for one of my...
tastes. Perhaps it is time I
paid my "employer" a visit once again. He'll
find that Im not the
weakling I was when he first enslaved me. Maybe then I
can cut
the puppet's cords. Maybe Ill just tear his face off with my
bare
hands... 

I think the surpreme irony is that I was sent to
kill fops by a fop.  He wet my appetite to murder his own kind. 
The fool.

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 sighs as he recants 'We saved 869 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'