The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Zanra.

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 manilla folder on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Zanra' scribed in light orange ink.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Mon Jan 18
22:25:07 2010
Subject     Pattern of Life

Bueren
Rose...that's what I've been called before. Strange that
I'm
called Summer Rose when I resemble nothing like one. But,
then again, many
things make little sense in the scheme of how
patterns of life seem to link
things together.

My mother has
been gone many years. She was with me through the early part
of
my life, only to succumb to an illness that ravaged her. My
father died,
old and grey, long before I was even considered an
adult. I guess that's to
be expected when he was human.

He was
what could be termed Camaxilas, a sword lord. I can remember
his
stories of armored knights and fighting before he met my
mother and gave up
his sword.

He dusted his armor each week, his
hand gently caressing the embossing in
gold. A strange saying he
would repeat each time. For some reason I'll
remember it, yet
won't say it because he told me to keep it inside until the
time
was right. 

When he died, we did as he asked and sent a single
message by horseman. We
expected nothing, but were surprised when
one man showed up. This one man
wore armor similar to my fathers
and said words as he was lowered into the
ground. My mother gave
the man the armor and weapons when he left.

We left for my
mother's old homeland shortly after the funeral. I
understand
why, now that I can look back and remember what was
said.

It was a primarily human village near a large city of
mostly humans. When my
father died, the once friendly people
started calling my mother a whore and
blaming her for causing my
father to forget an oath he took. Strange, these
so-called
friends never said this before, yet blamed my mother for the
love
my parents shared.

Her exile took us to Qualinost. Her
family welcomed her back with open arms,
but there were some
unfriendly gazes that flashed my direction. And these
gazes
brought new vocalization to words that my father said with love
and
affection. I came to know that 'half elf' and 'half elven'
could be said
with contempt and malice.

In this city that
treated my kind with contempt and hatred, I found solace
in two
men. One was a man familiar with weapons. He taught me how to use
a
mace. The other man was a cleric who taught me the healing
touch and told me
about the Gods and their stars in the sky. He
did not treat me with anything
more than pride when I made my
decision to look to the same God my father
did. Instead he merely
nodded and continued to teach me how to heal. Both of
these men
shaped me and set me on my path. 

Author:    Zanra    
     
Date:      Thu Jan 21 13:19:51 2010
Subject    
Keeping the journal updated

They traveled slowly, she and
the knight who clanked, followed by the
shaggy horse. They spoke
little, but Zanra was used to the quiet. Instead
she looked at
the trees and grasses that surrounded her, seeking familiar
and
unfamiliar that she could use in her work. She would stop
occasionally,
pulling leaves from trees and berries from bushes.
She stuffed them in bags,
saving them for later.

When they got
closer to the camp, she begged off to sit against a large
tree.
With her rest, she pulled a well used leather bound journal from
her
bags, along with an inkwell and pen. Dipping the pen in the
ink, she began
to write. 

*******

 350 Post Cataclysm, 1st
day of the Month of Reorxmont

I met a knight. He needed a wound
healed. He said the wound was recieved in
battle. I bade him to
show me the area. It was on the middle of the left
side, bound by
a well soaked bloody bandage. I removed the wrapping,
revealing a
wicked blade cut. He mentioned that an axe had done the damage.
I
cleansed it and applied powered Black Barony. I hope that will
help pull
out the infection and speed the healing. I used a new
leaf that I found,
crushing it to a gooey substance to help cover
the powder. 

I wrapped it with linen, then helped him redress in
armor. I don't know if
he will listen to me, but I did advise him
to loosen the straps that keep
the armor on if the wound begins
to hurt. I will remain in the area to look
at the wound again in
a few days to sure that my ministrations worked. 

*****

She
looked up, looking around. With a sigh, she replaced the journal
in her
bags and stood, continuing on the path with the knight.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Thu Jan
21 19:17:58 2010
Subject     Journal entry
2

******

350 Post Cataclysm, 4th day of the Month of
Reorxmont

I returned to the camp to check the knight's wound. I
did not see him, but
did see another. I spoke with him. He was
resting. I found out his name, but
will not put it in writing for
fear that this fall into hands that do not
follow the manners
these knights do. We spoke for a bit. He knew of my
father, and
it made me happy.

I was able to find the first knight and
checked the wound again. The
infection had gone. I again treated
it with Black Barony and wrapped it
again. This time when he
called for his armor, the other knight took it and
would not
allow him to wear it. I was glad to see this. 

On the side note,
the first knight was willing to talk, but also a bit
cautious. He
seems to need an outlet for the frustrations he has, but,
without
knowing me, he seemed reluctant to talk to me about it. Knowing
what
has happened, I know that he needs what he has to be able to
do what needs
to be done. Cryptic, yes, but with reason. I know
what needs to be done, but
others do not need to know. 

*****

Author:    Zanra          
Date:     
Sat Jan 30 03:24:02 2010
Subject     First day of
training

She limped slowly back to the tent in which she
slept, her muscles aching
from the training session with Lord
Railen. She said nothing as she ducked
into the tent. Flipping
the tent flap closed, she dropped the practice mace
to the
ground, took two steps, then fell to her knees. Holding her
stomach
and her arms to her, she groaned as she sunk to her side.
"Damnit, why
didn't I think that this would NOT hurt as bad as it
does," she asked,
grasping at the strap to her bag. Not being
able to grasp it, she forced
herself to her hands and knees,
crawling to the bag in the corner of the
tent. 

Rummaging
through it, she dug out what she needed and, with tears in
her
eyes, she started a pot of water to boil. When the water was
boiling, she
dropped what she thought she would need into the
pot, starting to attempt to
heal her aches and pains.

An hour
passed as the water and herbs seeped. With a startled snort,
she
awoke. She stretched carefully, trying to avoid overusing the
muscles that
were sore. 

"For the love of Paladine..." she
started, stopping just a fast as her
fingertips tingled. She
shook them, a bit afraid that she had pinched
muscles. Not
feeling any lack of feeling, she looked at her hands.
"That's
strange. I have never felt that before," she whispered,
pouring a large cup
of the tea from the boiling pot.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sun Jan
31 13:32:00 2010
Subject     Moonlight

Zanra listened,
carefully straining to see if anyone stirred in the camp.
Not
hearing anything, she picked up the dreaded weapon from the
morning and
made her way into the nearby forest. There, with no
one watching, she tried
to remember what she had learned from
Railen. She remembered part of it, but
other pieces slipped out
of her mind.

After an hour or so of working, she dropped the
weapon, much to the relief
of muscles that seemed to cry out for
peace. With an escaped moan, she fell
to her knees, wrapping her
arms around her chest. "Father," she whispered.
"If this is what
it takes to be what you were, I'm not sure that I'm ready
for
it," she whimpered, a bit of sorrow in her voice. Carefully, and
slowly,
she looked around to make sure that no one had followed
her into the
clearing. Seeing no one, she slowly laid down on the
cool ground and closed
her eyes. "I don't know if you can hear
me...I've never talked to you
before, but if you are
there...Paladine give me strength," she whispered.
Again, she
felt her fingertips tingle. With painful movement, she
touched
them to her face, feeling a strange warmth come over her.
She felt strength
flow back into her arms and the exhaustion that
she had been plagued with
flow out of her.

She lay there for a
while longer, wondering if this was actually what she
thought it
was...then sat up and bowed her head. "I still don't know
what
this is, but if it does come from you...blessings to you
Paladine," she
whispered as she stood, picked up the weapon and
continued to practice. 

Author:    Zanra         

Date:      Wed Feb 17 12:55:59 2010
Subject     Skeletal
remains

Zanra walked quietly through the skeletal remains
of the camp on
Sancrist. Once there had been Knights of Solamnia
as far as the eyes could
see. Now, only a handful remained. She
knew little of where the others had
gone, only that she remained
to do what she was told to. 

Smashed fingers, broken toes,
bloody nosesall she became fairly familiar
with as she helped out
on the docks. She sat under the shade of a tree,
healing those
who had incidents with crates, oars, and other obstacles that
lay
in the way of progress. Occasionally her eyes would drift,
looking for
others that she knew, but none of them were still on
the island. Each of
them had their own orders and would soon meet
somewhere else. Zanra could
only hope and pray that each of them
made it back with the minimum of
injury.

When he stepped around
to watch, she felt the need to slink farther into the
shadows of
the trees. It still bothered her that she knew what she did.
She
hoped that he didn't know of her hesitation, but knew that
the word would
get around. She laughed a little, thinking that
she could possibly be left
behind of the peaceful island, but
knew that wish was impossible. She had
taken the vow and given
her oath. She now had to follow orders.

He looked her way, his
eyes knowing that her thoughts had gotten back to
him. With a
roll of her eyes, she stood and dusted herself off before
walking
to him and saluting him. He merely looked at her. "Are you
ready?"
he asked. She shrugged. "As ready as I can
be...considering." He nodded.
"And of your other plans?" he
asked. She shook her head. "I have not
considered them. I had
asked before joining the Knighthood, but everyone
seemed too busy
to answer me. Those plans are now gone," she said, surprised
that
the sorrow that she once felt was now gone. He merely nodded,
turning
back to watch the activity on the docks. 

"Have you
practiced your mace today?" he asked without looking at her.
"The
day is still young," she answered. He seemed to laugh a
little, turning his
head to her. "Not that young," he replied.
She sighed. Saluting him, she
turned and walked toward a clearing
in what was left of the tents to
practice the new forms that he
had taught her. 

Author:    Zanra         

Date:      Wed Feb 24 00:37:23 2010
Subject     The
crossing 

The dock workers seemed haggard as the finished
loading the last of the
cargo. They then walked up the gangplank
and waited for the last of the
passengers to board.

Zanra
shrugged her shoulders, settling the still unfamiliar armor on
her
shoulders. The strap of her pouch crossed the breastplate,
looking rather
funny as it settled at her waist, along with the
mace and things on her
belt. She glanced around, waiting for him.
He came down the beach, heading
for the ship. She caught the
slight movement of his hand, beckoning her to
his side. She
nodded, following him up the gangplank and aboard the ship.
The
captain greeted him warmly, nodding as he gave the orders to head
for
the mainland near Palanthas. Zanra merely stood at the rail
and watched.
"You know there is a cabin you can rest in," a
dockworker said quietly to
her. She nodded, feeling the boat rock
under her feet. She tried to smile at
the dockworker, feeling her
own stomach flip and flop with the motion of the
boat. 

Night
fell soon after, Zanra making use of the once empty bucket in
the
cabin set aside for her use. The dockworker who had spoken to
her had
already emptied to bucket three times, sighing each
time.

He came to see her the next morning, seemingly amused at
what had befallen
her. All she could do was glare at him over the
rim of the bucket as she
continued to empty the contents of her
stomach. The dockworker entered after
he left, shaking his head.
"The bloody bastard should not harrass you so
much," he said,
helping Zanra to her bunk. "He should have a bit of a heart
at
seeing you this sick. What's his life gonna be like if a healer
such as
yourself doesn't survive the crossing?" She barely shook
her head as the man
replaced her full bucket with an empty and
left the cabin quietly. 

Night passed into day. The sun had
barely risen when Zanra rolled herself
out of the bunk and hit
the decking on her knees. A mere whisper was all she
was able to
manage, but with it she called out for relief. And with
her
whisper, soft blue light seemed to filter in with the coming
dawn, bringing
with it a healing sensation that seemed to take
all sense of the meaning of
the term 'seasickness' from her. From
her knees, she looked out the circular
window and praised the
help of Paladine. 

The dockworker arrived soon after. He knocked
and was surprised at the call
for entrance. He found Zanra
sitting in a chair, attempting to clean herself
up. He smiled and
bowed his way out of the cabin, returning a bit later with
a
large basin of water and towels. He nodded as she thanked him,
telling her
to drop the dirty clothing outside the door. He left,
chuckling as she
blushed and stammered her thanks.

Zanra sat for
a moment longer, looking at the clean water. With a sniff,
she
made a face and went to her pack, pulling out fresh clothing
for herself.
She quickly cleaned herself, donning the new
clothes. Remembering what the
dockworker had said, she dropped
the soiled clothes in a pile outside the
door and quietly made
her way, without her armor, to the deck of the boat. 

She saw
him there, but made way to avoid him as she walked toward the
front
of the ship. With a shy smile at a deckhand, she leaned
against the railing
and watched the blue water slip by.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sat Sep
25 11:27:49 2010
Subject     Night sky

The night air
was just a bit crisp, crisp enough that Zanra pulled her
cloak
tighter around her. She looked up, finding the Platinum Dragon
among
the stars and felt just a bit better. It seemed like the
weight of thousands
was on her shoulders and she was unfamiliar
with it. She could feel the
tension in the air from her vantage
point. Some of the troops seemed ok,
others were scared, not
knowing what was coming.

She started when the Grand Master
walked by her. He looked toward her and
nodded. She merely
returned the nod and stood, walking away from the safety
of the
camp, yet not far enough away to leave herself open to attack.
There
was a lot of uncertainty, things that she wasn't ready for.
Her past flooded
back to her, causing her to remember things that
she had hoped to keep
buried. All would come out in the future,
she was afraid, but knew it
would.

Lord Railen acknowledged her
as he walked by, making the rounds of the camp.
She nodded,
turning and heading a different direction. Tonight was not a
time
for conversation. Tonight, she had to make peace with the demons
of her
nightmares. And that was for no one but her to figure out.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Wed Sep
29 01:59:04 2010
Subject     Meeting things along the
way

It all seemed sureal as she rode along with the
troops following the
GrandMaster. The trees even seemed quieter
than normal to her. Usually she
could read and see things as she
traveled, this time there seemed to be
nothing that would reveal
anything to her. Still, she rode, following orders
given to her
by the leaders of the Knighthood. Her orders were clear; she
was
a healer and that was her job. 

Something strange caught her
attention, as it did the others in the group.
Just a mere turn of
her head and she found herself laying on the ground with
her head
aching. The fighting knights, as she called them, gathered
with
their friends, and together, they attacked. In the end, the
friends and
allies stood together with the knights and, with what
she could do to help,
the creature fell to the ground. 

She
started to walk away to round up the horses that got scattered in
the
process, but stopped short, almost running into the
GrandMaster. He had
watched her efforts and her success on the
field of battle and, then and
there, ordered her to kneel. He
took the still bloody sword, and with her
oath, she stood a
shocked look on her face. The GrandMaster merely smiled
and
walked away to gather his thoughts. 

Author:    Zanra 
        
Date:      Fri Oct  1 13:42:21 2010
Subject    
Grief for the past

Even where she stood, the news of the
happenings in her homeland hit her
hard. People she knew were
gone or captured, and she could do little but
mourn them where
she was.

She didn't really know exactly what had occurred, only
that the people
around the forest had been overran and beaten.
One part of her just wanted
to open a portal and step through to
see if she could find any survivors and
take them to safety, but
another part knew her duty to her oath. It was now
that the
reality of what her father had gone through seemed to dawn on
her.
He too did what he knew was right, forsaking everything
else. And as his
daughter, she too had to make the difficult
decision to remain where she
was. It wasn't only the elves that
she had grown up with and had played with
as a child that
mattered, the safety of others who looked up to those like
her
was at stake. 

The walls were really the only things that seemed
to know her pain and her
sorrow. She would not show it to anyone
else, that was not her way. Instead,
she barred herself in a
lonely room and grieved, pouring out her emotions. 

She finished
late into the afternoon. Clearing her face of emotion and
locking
her pain and grief inside her, she exited the lonely room and
made
her way to recieve orders from the leaders.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sun Oct
24 15:02:14 2010
Subject     Pushing forward

The land
was different than how she remembered it. The trees were
no
longer happy. Instead they drooped and almost seemed angry and
sad in their
appearance. All together, Zanra was angry and
saddened at what had happened
to her childhood homeland.

The
atmosphere, too, seemed familiar, but the same from her youth.
With a
glance over her shoulder at the GrandMaster, she
dismounted and walked into
the forest. She found what she
searched for. With careful hands, she lifted
the old box from
it's resting place and emptied the contents into an unused
pouch.
With a silent prayer to Paladine, she lit the old wooden box on
fire
and watched it burn. Once it was completely destroyed, she
returned to the
rest of the Solamnics and mounted her horse. With
another glance at the
GrandMaster, she followed them back to the
camp.

That night seemed cold and eerie. The battle ravaged land
was quiet. The
darkness had dwarfed even the hottest bonfire.
Yet, from the forest came a
sound that only Zanra knew. She rose
from her fitfull sleep, donned her
clothing and a cloak and
followed the noise.

A sheltered fire burned inside a well
concealed cave. She was met at the
entrance by Qualinosti elves,
their weapons pointed directly at her.
Reluctantly, they lowered
their weapons when she gave the passcode that made
her known to
them.

Their leader sat near the fire, his arm broken and bloody.
Near him, others
fared little better. Zanra approached them with
caution. "Quenta solari nen
heth y mori Firthing D'l'athil.
Droviala Zanra d'Zaradene," she said to him.
He glanced at her
and glared. "Is your true heritage so degraded by your
human
blood that you forgot your true name and who you are?" he
asked,
attempting to rise. She beat him to it, kneeling next to
him. "I've
forgotten nothing Firth. I know exactly who I am," she
retorted, lifting his
injured arm and starting to unwrap the
bandages. He merely looked at her
with a hooded glance. "Prove
it, Zanralansana," he said, the challenge
ringing in his voice.
She dropped the bloody bandages to the ground and drew
on what
she knew as a healer, healing the break and closing the open
wounds.
He merely watched her, his gaze still challenging
her.

With Firth's gaze still on her, she moved around and healed
the others who
were hurt by the battles. When she'd finished she
stood up, heading for the
cave entrance. Firth stood in front of
her, his battered sword brandished.
"Firth, move aside," she
said, stepping to one side to pass. Instead, Firth
moved in front
of her. "Does the blood of the Caladon line run so cowardly
that
you hide behind armor bound oafs who use you? Or do you still
possess
what you once did? " he said, dropping the sword in
challenge. She merely
stepped back. "Firth, they need you to lead
them. I am in no position to do
that anymore," Zanra said. "I
gave my oath." Firth laughed. "Gave your oath
to those who took
you from us to begin with. You should have stayed here
instead of
turning Valth like your mother," he said. 

Zanra dropped her
cloak behind her before she even realized she did it. She
reached
for a weapon, realizing that she had not brought one. Firth
laughed.
"Do you rely on steel like them?" he taunted, grabbing
her arm and flipping
her over his shoulder. 

Zanra hit the
ground, rolling to her feet. She stood, watching him. He
circled
her, taunting her with the names she was called as a child. When
he
insulted her mother a second time, she stepped toward him,
lunging at him,
only to land on her back again. She rolled,
finding a crude dagger at her
throat. "You've gone soft
Zanralansana. Did the armor wearers not test your
skills, or did
they merely hand you gear and say fight like they did to
traitors
like your mother?" he asked, pushing on the knife. With a
growl,
Zanra grabbed the hand with the knife and flipped him. She
rolled, coming to
her feet. "You know nothing Firth," she said,
moving carefully. 

They fought, each of them seeming to take
advantage, then the other turning
the fight around. A rustle
brought the fight to a halt as a sentry came
rushing in, blood
streaming from a large cut on his shoulder. Zanra healed
him as
he delivered the message of a fight nearby. Firth tossed Zanra
a
knife. "Prove your skills or be branded traitor like your
mother," he said
as he left. She needed no other encouragement.


The fight was mostly one sided, the newly healed elves
outnumbering the
intruders. Zanra and Firth finished off the last
few, then stood and looked
at each other. "You haven't forgotten
what you once knew," Firth said, his
voice now normal and calm.
Zanra handed him back the knife she was given. "I
haven't
forgotten, and I won't ever forget who I once was. You made this
my
home, even when my mother did what she did to make sure that
we could get
weapons to the others. On the outside, she was HIS
whore. Never on the
inside, " she said, dropping her head. Firth
walked to her. "I know. I was
just seeing if you were still hot
tempered," he said, laughing. 

The cave was much more friendly
when she entered it this time. The fighters
included her in the
jokes, making her laugh. Firth sat for a while,
watching. Finally
he stood up, raising one hand. "At one time, you stood
with us
and led part of us against THEM. Something happened and somehow
one
of THEM got ahold of you and you left us. I saw when you took
your box out
of it's hiding place, burning the box, but not the
contents. That says
something for you. That box could have gotten
lots of us in trouble. I trust
that you will not use the contents
of the box against us," he said, looking
directly at her. Zanra
nodded. "The contents are safe and will be used only
by me. THEY
have no need for what was in there, nor will the items fall
into
the hands of THEM," she said, nodding. Firth smiled.
"Although you are one
of the armor wearers, I name Zanralansana,
daughter of Aileansana
Ravensister, one of us." The elves
cheered, showing their approval. Zanra
merely nodded. "The
secrets of us are safe. I must return before I'm missed.
Quenta
solari nen heth y mori my brothers and sisters," she said,
leaving
the cave. 

The sun was just beginning to rise as she
slipped back into her tent. Mere
moments later the call from the
sentries was made to rise and make ready for
travel. Zanra merely
smiled and put her armor on. 

As the Solamnics left the forest,
Zanra heard the sound from the night
before and smiled, following
along. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:     
Wed Nov  3 20:13:06 2010
Subject     Re-awakening

The
travelers moved only as fast as the horses pulling the wagons
with
supplies. Zanra sat on the horse that she had been given at
the head of the
lines, just behind the GrandMaster and the Lord
of the Crown. She listened
to everything around her, her elven
ears straining to hear what could be
around her. Nothing sounded
amiss. In fact, everything sounded like it
should. 

She noticed
that the fields seemed greener than normal as they traveled.
With
a shake of her head, she wondered why plans had changed, but
then
again, she had been privy to little of the planning as she
had just recently
stepped into her current assignment.

The young
half-elf heard something strange and turned her head to look.
As
soon as she did, her vision was filled with blood. She slipped
off her mount
and stood her ground, for mere moments. She was
thrown off her feet by a
blast from a nearby enemy. She landed
hard, dropping her shield in the
process. She managed to rise to
her feet, dazed and fighting as well as she
could.

Zanra looked
around her as she fought, trying to find which direction to
go
next. Yet every direction seemed awash with the enemy. Her
training and
practice with the skills that defined her as a
cleric were not answering her
prayers and her faith in Paladine
was seemingly non-existant. She couldn't
seem to actually heal
anyone or anything around her. It seemed to her tha
Paladine had
forsaken her in this time and place.

A voice in her head belayed
her thoughts. "I have not forsaken you, young
one," the male
voice said quietly. She darted one way, then the next in
her
attempts to fight, but the numbers were overwhelming. 

She
dropped to one knee, only to roll out of the way of an incoming
attack.
Yet it wasn't enough. She saw her end before her eyes,
and dropped her mace
at her side to recieve the killing blow...




Brilliant light enveloped her. The blow seemed to pass
through her and she
blacked out for moments in time.

The light
disappeared, and she was on the sand where her journey all
began,
water lapping nearby. She tried to stand, but her legs
buckled, refusing to
hold her weight. She managed to make her way
to her knees and turned her
head from side to side. Instead of
the bloody battlefield, she saw others
who had stood on the
battlefield beside her, all of them struggling to rise,
and a
good many more struggling to make sense of it all. The rush of
feet
from nearby, brought her head back toward them. Squires in
Solamnic clothes
and the healers who were their allies came
toward them, anxious of all the
commotion. Inside her head, the
voice seemed saddened. "That was unexpected
and unwarranted,
youngling. I gave you a gift. I won't be around to help all
the
time. Use it a bit more wisely this time," it said before Zanra's
eyes
rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground with a
thud.

The sensation of flying was the next thing she felt. Pure
and total
weightlessness, followed by an excrutiating pain in her
shoulder and neck.
She managed to force one eye open, glancing
around her. She was being
carried on a stretcher by squires who
had been left for defenses. She tried
to sit up, but a light hand
on her shoulder had her dropping back to the
cloth beneath her,
exclaiming in pain. "Rest Lady Knight. You need to be
seen by the
healers," a voice said from beside her. Zanra shook her
head,
again attempting to sit up. This time she managed it,
hissing in pain and
frustration. Around her, similar scenes were
being replayed.

A nearby healer knelt beside her. Zanra heard
the prayers to Mishakal as a
feeling of content and the healer's
prayers were answered. Zanra felt her
body lay back down. She
closed her eyes, bringing darkness to her mind.


Author:    Zanra          
Date:      Sun Nov 
7 04:54:46 2010
Subject     Healing the
wounded

Stiffness and a throbbing ache was the first
thing that Zanra noticed as
she slowly wakened from her healing
sleep. She opened her eyes. The lights
around her were dim. She
raised a hand and lifted it to her neck. She felt
the light
bandage there. With a careful probe, she felt under the
bandage,
assessing her injury. The cut ran from just under her
ear to under the light
tunic she wore. She turned her head,
looking around at the other injured
people in the beds, all of
them bandaged and being cared for. Another glance
showed her that
all around her clerics and squires moved meticulously,
their
efforts to make the injured better, apparent in their
actions.

A nearby cleric noticed her movements and quickly made
her way to the
bedside. Zanra lowered her hand to the bed,
letting the woman look her over.
After a cursory check, the woman
nodded. "How do you feel today, Lady?" she
asks, her fingertips
lightly probing the bandage on her neck. Zanra hissed,
but
remained still. The woman shook her head. "There's nothing we can
do for
the scar that wound is going to leave." Zanra nodded. "It
can't be helped,"
she said. With some effort, she managed to sit
up. Again she looked at the
cleric. "I'll heal."

She sat back as
the cleric checked over her. When the cleric finished with
her
ministration. "You can move around the camp, but please, don't
cause
more injury to yourself," the cleric said, a stern look on
her face. Zanra
smiled shyly and nodded. "Tell me, have all the
survivors been healed?"
Zanra asked, glancing around again. The
cleric sighed and shook her head.
"We have healed everyone who
has allowed us. The only one who has refused
anything we can do
has been Lord Lanfer. To this day, he sits outside or in
a small
room nearby and refuses to let us heal his wounds," the cleric
said.
Zanra shook her head, sighing. "I'll talk to him. He needs
to be seen," she
said quietly. The cleric nodded, standing and
returning to healing.

Zanra rose to her feet, taking a few
moments to gather her balance. With an
unsteady center of
balance, she made her way to an area where warm water
steamed in
pools. With unsteady hands, she slowly slipped into the
water,
biting back the cry of pain as the steaming water hit the
sore muscles and
open wounds. Once she got used to the water, she
sat back in the highback
tub and closed her eyes, resting and
letting the water help with the sore,
stiff muscles. She rose
from the water before it got cold. A young squire
brought her a
cotton clerical robe. With a smile, she donned it, as well
as
simple footwear before she set out into the daylight. Seeing
the building
that the cleric had mentioned, she carefully made
her way to it. 

Author:    Zanra          
Date:
     Wed Nov 17 15:37:15 2010
Subject     Seeker

The
tent city was held by a strange eerie silence as the sun peeked
over
the horizon. Very few people moved in the early rays of the
morning. Zanra
sat quietly on a tall tree branch, her back braced
against the bark of the
large tree. She merely sat and watched as
the sentries changed and new ones
took their places.

One glance
back toward the main healing area showed her that the doors
to
the buildings were still closed and, perhaps, those who needed
sleep still
grasped the healing that it could do. Her own wounds
were all but healed,
still aching if she overused the muscles
that had been pulled and injured.

She carefully climbed down
from the branch, landing back on the ground. With
a sigh, she
walked quietly to her tent and entered it. Allowing her eyes
to
adjust to the dim light within, she picked up an empty
backpack and started
stuffing things that she should need into
it. When she finished, she pulled
a piece of parchment from
nearby and quickly penned a note.

Her armor tucked under cloth,
she quietly made her way to the GrandMaster's
quarters. With
slow, deliberate movements, she slid the note under the door
and
made her way out of the tent city and into the forests nearby. 

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.'

\n