Post by ShadowDucky on Feb 9, 2007 23:33:41 GMT 1
You open the old oaken door cautiously, peering into the large room that awaits - the caution is something newly acquired after nearly dying on a sword or a brief brush with madness in The Trophy Room. This place is quieter, more soothing, yet seems to brim with untold stories, the books shifting in excitement at a new visitor, whispering their secrets to one another.
The shelves are tall and dusty, spinning haphazardly upwards into gloom, ladders on wheels poised and at the ready to guide an adventurous soul to the works within. You open the door further and step inside, staring round at the tables and comfortable looking chairs. The stacks extend farther than you can see, though you're not surprised - the Mansion has many such impossible rooms, and you've grown rather accustomed to this sort of thing.
You hear muttering, and a figure stalks past one of the shelves, then turns and sees you. She is rather short, wearing a voluminous dark skirt and black shirt with poet's sleeves, her long dark hair rather messily swept back into a bun, a few curling tendrils floating about her face. Her ears are slightly pointed, and hooked to those ears are black rimmed glasses, which she peers over at you. Her face breaks into a smile and she sets down the cloths she was holding, wiping the dust from her hands, which are covered in laced fingerless leather gloves.
"Hello there. I'm one of the keepers of the keys for the Mansion, and The Librarian." You look down and see a large ring with several skeleton keys dangling from her waist, keys that match the one hanging from a dark ribbon round her neck. "Feel free to find me and inquire as to the state of things, I'll try to set you straight. My domain can largely be found here, among the books and histories and tales of long-forgotten things."
"I welcome you to search and explore to your heart's content - even I do not know what lurks in the deep stacks. Some caution is advised, though, there are dangers here, and a sharp wit is something you'll need about you. I give you three warnings, as well - first, keep a lantern close at hand when perusing the depths, as the light globes are wont to succumb to darkness. Second, avoid becoming entangled in said darkness - I can't be everywhere at once, and I especially cannot be spending all of my time rescuing those whom the black has acquired a taste for. Thirdly, and finally - remember that whatever strange beings you will encounter, blood or entrails of any sort upon my first editions will not be tolerated."
"Enjoy your time here, and keep a weather eye open for notification from me - the more stout-hearted among you may be invited to accompany me on a trek to discover just what creeps behind my well-ordered shelves . . . "
She gathers her dust-filled cloths, smiles kindly, and stalks off, presumeably to find some less filthy rags to use in her massive cleaning operation. You're left standing there, enthralled by the shelves upon shelves of wisdom. Inhaling deeply brings the scent of old leather, vellum, and just a hint of magic. A wild grin breaks its way out of your face and you imagine an observer would witness the glint of madness within your eye.
This is The Library.
The shelves are tall and dusty, spinning haphazardly upwards into gloom, ladders on wheels poised and at the ready to guide an adventurous soul to the works within. You open the door further and step inside, staring round at the tables and comfortable looking chairs. The stacks extend farther than you can see, though you're not surprised - the Mansion has many such impossible rooms, and you've grown rather accustomed to this sort of thing.
You hear muttering, and a figure stalks past one of the shelves, then turns and sees you. She is rather short, wearing a voluminous dark skirt and black shirt with poet's sleeves, her long dark hair rather messily swept back into a bun, a few curling tendrils floating about her face. Her ears are slightly pointed, and hooked to those ears are black rimmed glasses, which she peers over at you. Her face breaks into a smile and she sets down the cloths she was holding, wiping the dust from her hands, which are covered in laced fingerless leather gloves.
"Hello there. I'm one of the keepers of the keys for the Mansion, and The Librarian." You look down and see a large ring with several skeleton keys dangling from her waist, keys that match the one hanging from a dark ribbon round her neck. "Feel free to find me and inquire as to the state of things, I'll try to set you straight. My domain can largely be found here, among the books and histories and tales of long-forgotten things."
"I welcome you to search and explore to your heart's content - even I do not know what lurks in the deep stacks. Some caution is advised, though, there are dangers here, and a sharp wit is something you'll need about you. I give you three warnings, as well - first, keep a lantern close at hand when perusing the depths, as the light globes are wont to succumb to darkness. Second, avoid becoming entangled in said darkness - I can't be everywhere at once, and I especially cannot be spending all of my time rescuing those whom the black has acquired a taste for. Thirdly, and finally - remember that whatever strange beings you will encounter, blood or entrails of any sort upon my first editions will not be tolerated."
"Enjoy your time here, and keep a weather eye open for notification from me - the more stout-hearted among you may be invited to accompany me on a trek to discover just what creeps behind my well-ordered shelves . . . "
She gathers her dust-filled cloths, smiles kindly, and stalks off, presumeably to find some less filthy rags to use in her massive cleaning operation. You're left standing there, enthralled by the shelves upon shelves of wisdom. Inhaling deeply brings the scent of old leather, vellum, and just a hint of magic. A wild grin breaks its way out of your face and you imagine an observer would witness the glint of madness within your eye.
This is The Library.
