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В развивающихся филиалах

• WL-EL (Греческий): scp-el.wikidot.com/wanderers:

Sanjay slowly trudged down the cobblestone alley, the gloomy sky above neatly mimicking his mood. He looked at every door for the mark, occasionally taking care to glance over his shoulder. In the past 7 months, nobody had followed him, at least none that he'd seen.

The marked door turned out to be the back entrance to a dentistry parlor, tucked neatly behind some stacked crates. With a final glance to the side, Sanjay knocked on the door.

A slit above the doorknob opened up. "What's yer business?"

Sanjay swallowed. "To tell a whisper, not a secret."

With a clank, clunk, and clink, the door was opened. Stepping inside, Sanjay stopped to take in the sights and smells. The room was a cluttered one, with broken chairs mended with parts broken off from the tables. A makeshift counter had been constructed from the same type of crate he'd seen outside, crudely painted black. The smell of cooked vegetables permeated the air. The few other patrons had already settled in their corners, making their conversation. Sanjay heard a few snippets as he headed to his usual spot.

"… heard that Grigori got with the meateye…"

"… think of what actual Cabbage would be like?"

"I heard Damien tried some, and lost his head."

"Bah, nobody loses their heads. S'only a rumor they spread to discourage vegetarianism…"

Sanjay settled in the lefthand corner table, the one with the 3rd wobbliest leg. When the surly server came to take his order, he got the steamed cauliflower and stumproot. Sometimes he'd order the eggplant, or the carrot, but he wasn't feeling as adventurous today.

Eating vegetables in a seedeasy wasn't exactly Sanjay's idea of the best time, but it was a good time nonetheless. Here, nobody would pester him to eat more meat, or try and ask why he had the scratches. He needed the veggies, to keep the scratchies away. Just had to eat, and not think.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. The trickling of conversation seemed as though someone had turned the faucet off. There was nobody else scheduled to come in…

Then, like a surge of floodwater, Elrian militiamen burst into the room from all sides. Screaming in the name of the king, they brought their broadswords down on any who tried to run. Sanjay dived into the crate pile, but it was too late. A militiaman grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and slammed him with the hilt of his sword.

As everything went black, Sanjay struggled to hear the men.

"Good bust, Mcanny. That's one lest seedeasy in Elra."

"Verily. What'dwe do with the rat pack here?"

"Send 'em to Biffy, in dungeon five. We haven't had a good losin' head game in awhile."

"Alright. Tell him to wait up fer me, would'ja?"

"Heh, I will, don'tcha worry…"

and then everything went black.

The first thing Sanjay could feel was the cold stone pressing on his face. It was a bit dusty, a bit grimy, with a hint of ancient history. All the classical signs of castle dungeon masonry. It all came rushing back to him… the black carriage that had pulled up to his house, full of royal thugs in their cabbage-emblazoned militia uniform.

Groaning, he picked himself up from the distinctive floor. It seemed to be your average prisoner cell, with the putrid foodstuff dumped by the corned and a small pit in the corner for business time. Sanjay shook his head. Why had they come for him? He had committed no crimes against the crown.

As he pondered this, he suddenly became acutely aware of the sound coming from outside his imprisonment. It sounded like… applause? Frowning, Sanjay put his ear up to the moldy wooden door, and listened…

"Now, lets meet our next contestants!"

The door swung open, and Sanjay was grasped mid-fall by leather-gloved mercenaries. Before he could even gather his wits, he found himself seated at a brown, beat up wooden desk. On either of his sides were two equally scared looking men, staring at him pleadingly.

A booming voice echoed from the front of the chamber "WELCOME, SANJAY BUMSAH… TO ELRICH's HOTTEST DUNGEON GAME "DON'T LOSE YOUR HEAD!"

Sanjay squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced as the cheering from hundreds of executioners washed over him. When he opened his eyes, he saw a bulk of muscle, leather, and a smiley face mask. His name tag read "Biffy Beefam."

"Now, these three lucky contestants will have a chance to win the grand prize, of not being decap-attacked by our good friend, execution grand master Dmitri Vllkjdk!"

The crowd roared with approval.

"You know the rules, folks! Our lucky contestants will each have chances to answer mega-tastic trivia inquiries, to prolong their inevitable doom! But watch out, getting one question wrong makes you lose your head! Lose every head, and the game is over!"

The man on Sanjay's left burst into tears.

"NOW! LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"

With a massive roar from the crows, six panels dropped from the ceiling, labeled "Assassinations", "Alchemy", "Canomancy", "Vegetables", "Heretics", and "Hanging". As soon as they had dropped completely, Biffy leapt to the man quivering on Sanjay's left. Wrapping his arm around the man, he pointed a ridiculously muscular arm at the panels.

"Choose your category!" he exclaimed, grinning broadly.

"Please…" the man begged, with a hoarse whisper. "I haven't seen my family in two weeks. I'm so hungry… please don't kill me…"

Without missing a beat, Biffy slammed his fist into the man's nose, shattering it in six places. "Please, choose a category!"

Sputtering on the river of blood now pouring from his ruined nose, the man managed to choke out "Vegh…Veaghables…"

The "Vegetables" panel flipped down, revealing a picture of a bright orange carrot. Biffy bounded towards the pane, and jabbed his finger to the illustration.

"Can you identify this vegetable?"

The man, sputtering on the geyser of mucus and blood gushing into his mouth, was unable to produce more than a few gurgling sounds. After a few moments, a bell rang out from somewhere above them. It was a church bell, and the solitary ring bellowed throughout the chamber.

"I'm sooooo sorry, but you've run out of time. Looks like this unlucky contestant…"

The crowd finished his sentence. "LOSE HIS HEAD!!!"

Amidst a deafening roar, Biffy grabbed the man's hair and dragged him towards Vllkjdk's stone execution block. A deafening mixture of the man screaming, the crowd roaring, and Vllkjdk hefting his axe was silenced by the thwack of it being brought down.

"Now… he may have lost out on fabulous prizes, but I'm sure our other contestants can beat his record!" Biffy leapt back over to them, this time grabbing the man on the left.

"Are… you… ready!?"

Trembling, the man nodded, and pointed to the "Hanging" panel. It plopped open, revealing a small compartment with a hangman's noose.

Biffy made an exaggerated frown. "I'm sorry friend, but you've picked the DAILY EXECUTION BONUS! Lose one of your heads, but gain fifty extra points on the next question!"

The man paled. Biffy snatched the rope out of the box, tugging it all the way to the man's position. "Any last words for our audience at home?"

"Please, you d-"

_snap

"ALL RIGHT!" Biffy bellowed, facing the crowd again. "WE ARE LEFT WITH ONLY ONE LUCKY CONTESTANT. CAN? HE? WIN?"

The crowd went wild. "NO!"

Biffy grinned, turning to face Sanjay. "We shall see…"

In a moment, Biffy was upon Sanjay, his muscular, crushing arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Now, lucky contestant, do you have a category to pick?"

Sanjay's eyes darted across the panels, before settling on "Assassination."

"I'll t-take… assassination." he stuttered.

"ALRIGHT! HERE IS YOUR QUESTION!"

Another panel flopped down, with the words "what is the average lifespan of a Revelan President?" painted in crude yellow

Sanjay gulped. "12?"

For a moment, Biffy only looked at them. Then, with a painfully forced show of disappointment, he turned to the crowd.

"OOoooh, looks like he blew it, folks. I guess that's the end of our show."

Sanjay froze. No, this couldn't be happening. Even as the masked thugs grabbed his arms, his mind was racing. Every sound around him seemed to fade together… the crowd… the man… the bells…

Sorry, Sanjay… here's what you could've… wooooon….

The axe was in hand

a neeewwww…. caaaaaahhhriiiiaahhhgeeee

It was hefted

tweeeeeeentyyyyy gollld pieeeecesssss

It was thrust

annnnd of coooouuuurse… your heeead!

Thwak

Тебе не положено быть здесь, внизу.

Дерьмо! Кто, чёрт возьми, это сказал?!

Опусти оружие, Странник. Если бы я хотел причинить тебе вред, я бы уже сделал это. А размахивать пушкой - это дурной тон.

Ладно. Вот.

Спасибо. Я прошу прощения за своё поведение. У меня не так много посетителей.

Ладно, можно… Господи, почему здесь так темно?

Мне  нравится темнота. Ничего не имею против света, конечно. Но я считаю, что здесь, внизу, у основания, гораздо спокойнее.

Фонд¹? Подожди, Тюремщики здесь?

Ах, прошу прощения. Я забыл ваши… имена друг для друга. Нет, я имел в виду структурную основу Библиотеки.

О… Я никогда серьёзно не задумывался об этом.

Что у Библиотеки есть основание?

Да. Я всегда думал о ней как о бесконечной во всех направлениях. Мне никогда не приходило в голову, что у неё есть… дно. Я не уверен, как к этому относиться.

Никак не относиться. Это просто непреложный факт. Но я понимаю, что ты чувствуешь. Это сбивает с толку.

Немного. Я никогда не был силен в математике.

Посмотри вверх, откуда ты пришел. Семь мраморных колонн, бесконечно тянущихся вверх и вниз. Но ты пришел сверху, а теперь ты внизу. Бесконечное не всегда означает без конца.

Я понимаю. Тем не менее, тот факт, что дно вообще существует, немного сбивает с толку.

Если это поможет тебе чувствовать себя более комфортно, то это основание - не столько физическое местоположение, сколько… абстрактное. Думай о нём как о краеугольном камне, на котором построена вся магия Библиотеки. Я чувствую, что ты не маг, но ты сможешь почувствовать здесь энергию. Она очень сильна. Сильнее, чем где-либо ещё, я думаю.

Я определённо что-то чувствую. Это похоже на… мягкое покалывание у основания моего пупка. Как будто я слишком долго сидел и только что встал. Это странно, но не плохо. Кстати, откуда ты всё это знаешь?

Я живу здесь. Полезно знать свой дом.

Подожди, ты живёшь здесь, внизу? Как? Я не думаю, что даже Гиды знают, что я спустился сюда, и здесь слишком темно, чтобы что-то разглядеть. Как ты выживаешь?

Мне и не нужно. Я не живой. Не такой живой, как большинство существ.

Надо было догадаться. Так глубоко внизу неизбежно столкнёшься с какой-нибудь странной хренью.

Действительно.

Кстати, где ты находишься? Я ни зги не вижу.

Коснись земли.

Прости?

Землю. Потрогай её.

… Это… это чешуя? Это ты?

Да.

Чёрт возьми. Какого… Блин, да ты гигантский.

Может я и имею конец, но я бесконечен.

Ради всего святого, что ты такое?

Я больше не пользуюсь именами. Но я полагаю, что ваша раса называет меня Змеем.

Чт… тот самый Змей? Змей из Длани Змея? Змей с Древа Знаний?

Да.

О Господи. Я… Чёрт, я думал, что ты ненастоящий. Без обид.

Я тебя не виню. Подвергай сомнению всё. Если бы мне сказали, что существует более высокий тип существа, чем я, я бы также хотел получить доказательства, прежде чем начну ему поклоняться.

То есть… Значит, всё это правда? О Древе Знаний? Оно всё и вправду происходило?

Только если ты так считаешь.

Ты не собираешься мне говорить, не так ли?

Это было бы безответственно. У меня есть определенные… обязательства относительно того, что я могу говорить смертным. Это для вашей же безопасности.

Это… Ладно. Я понимаю, почему Библиотекари не хотели, чтобы кто-нибудь спускался сюда сейчас. Знание, обращённое в Форму… многие люди хотели бы этого. Хотели бы тебя.

Ха, Да. У нас со Смотрителями есть соглашение. Они не совсем мне подчиняются, но мы понимаем друг друга. Я ограничиваю своё присутствие эфемерными видениями и иконографией Библиотеки. И они следят за тем, чтобы Странники не беспокоили меня.

Каковы же тогда твои отношения с Библиотекой? Я никогда не получал прямого ответа на этот вопрос.

Вам невозможно это понять. Это не оскорбление; пространство ума и его способность понимать ограничены. Но достаточно сказать, что я не создавал её, и она не создавала меня. И всё же, несмотря ни на что, мы неразрывно связаны. Своего рода симбиоз.

Что ты получаешь от этого?

Распространение знаний. Это моя цель. Это всегда было моей целью. С тех пор как ветви Древа, на котором я сейчас лежу, бесконечно обвились вокруг колонн, поддерживающих структуру Библиотеки. Свобода познания.

У тебя грустный голос. Задумался?

Разве? Мои извинения.

Нет, нет, всё в порядке. Я просто… Почему ты здесь, внизу? Это не для твоей защиты, ты одно из самых могущественных существ, когда-либо существовавших. Ты легко можешь уничтожить любого, кто попытается причинить тебе вред. Так почему же ты прячешься под Библиотекой?

Ссылка.

Что?

Я подвёл вас. Поэтому я спрятался, чтобы обдумать свои действия. Чтобы понять, как это произошло.

Что ты сделал?

Знание - это парадокс. Всякий раз, когда в систему вводится новое знание, люди будут собираться, чтобы либо подавить его, либо принять. Я понимаю, почему они хотят этого; они боятся неизвестного. Но я не понимаю, как им это удается.

Кого ты имеешь в виду?

Они существовали всегда. В Саду это был Яхве. В вашей истории это были армии Цезаря и все вторгшиеся империи. Теперь это ваши Тюремщики и Книгожоги. Я не могу думать как Человек — так скажи мне, почему они побеждают?

Они побеждают, потому что никто больше не знает, что идёт война. Нельзя восстать против своих угнетателей, если не знаешь, что тебя угнетают.

Сейчас и вправду так обстоят дела? Жертвы даже не знают о своём собственном положении?

Да. Но не из-за недостатка попыток. Длань помогает в этом.

Длань Змея. Да, я слышал истории. Борцы за свободу, анархисты, революционеры. В любом случае возрождение. Первоначальная Длань Змея была культом знаний, поклоняющимся легендам обо мне, которые я оставил на протяжении всей вашей истории. Уроборос, Шеша, Нагарайя. Я… рад узнать, что за это дело всё ещё борются от моего имени.

С этим всегда будут бороться, пока люди могут думать самостоятельно.

И всё же я остаюсь здесь, внизу, скрытый и не помогающий их делу.

Я всё ещё не понимаю, как это ты виноват, что люди плохие?

Я и есть знание. Я - это каждая мысль, облечённая в телесную форму. Само моё существование спровоцировало эту вечную войну.

Да, но я думаю… Я думаю, что каждый Странник обязан тебе.

Как это?

Мы все предпочли бы жить преследуемыми, но свободными, чем в блаженном неведении. Это то, что связывает нас.

Я… Понимаю. Ты интересный.

Спасибо, полагаю.

Тебе лучше вернуться наверх. Скоро тебя будут искать Гиды. Я отнесу тебя обратно.

Благодарю.

Зачем ты был здесь?

Что?

Ты спустился сюда до того, как узнал, что я здесь. Что ты искал так глубоко?

Я не знаю, но мне кажется, я нашёл это. Что ты будешь делать?

Возможно, помедитирую ещё немного. Возможно, я наконец-то снова войду в верхнюю Библиотеку. Обовьюсь вокруг полок, как в юности. Побеседую со Странниками.

Я думаю, им бы это понравилось.

Возможно. Но я не знаю, что я буду делать. Впервые за всё время моего существования я не знаю.

Полагаю, это не всегда плохо.

Действительно. Береги себя, Странник.

Ты тоже.

All Wanderers are familiar with the Librarians - mysterious, alien entities that upkeep and maintain the Library and assist its patrons. The three major delineations of Librarians are Pages, Docents and Archivists, though many minor variations exist upon these archetypes. Pages are insectoid creatures one can find swinging from the tops of shelves carrying bags of books to stack and arrange. Docents are much more common to the casual Wanderer, the cloaked, mouthless humanoids carrying swinging lanterns from chains. They enforce the peace, punish rulebreakers, and serve as guides for lost Wanderers. The final type are Archivists - while all Librarians differ enough to be told apart, whether through color, size, or other distinguishing features, Archivists can take almost any appearance. Most can be found at the Librarian's Desk, sitting in their chairs and approving checkouts, returns, or answering questions. The distinguishing feature of most Archivists lies in their eyelessness and attachment to their chairs.

However, Archivist is not only a species of Librarians, but also a rank within the Library. These esteemed individuals, granted the highest position available for their servitude to the Library, are more often called the Chief Archivists or Grand Archivists to distinguish them from their blind namesakes. There is always a Chief Archivist - upon death, the Library itself selects a successor through its Librarians. As of writing, there have been Eight Grand Archivists of the Library.

Первый

The First Archivist of the Library is the namesake; they were also an actual Archivist. A toadstool-like eyeless creature, attached to the seat of their chair, the common image of an Archivist stems from them. They were generally regarded by Wanderers familiar with them as a very authoritative type; a natural-leader. They had a penchant for directing Wanderers to their books without terrifying them in the way that Archivists tend to do. While, like all Archivists, they were a laconic and eldritch type at the best of times, they were also regarded as a leader of their fellow Librarians. They worked in the background to serve the Library, ordering the building and repairing of sections for Wanderers, and were generally little more than a head Librarian — the role of Chief Archivist at this time was not much more than that. Their greatest achievement remains the Main Hall, the titanic common room at the center of the Library. Its adaptive size allows it to host any amount of patrons on its wooden tables and study desks inside muffled magic bubbles. Orientations for new Wanderers are also held there; if the Librarian's desk is the brain of the Library, the Main Hall is the heart, and its construction displays the First's dedication to their wards. May their soul live on forevermore.

Второй

Little is known for certain regarding the Second Archivist's identity. Their species, gender, age, appearance, and activity before assuming the role are all unknown. Their personality was, by all accounts, bombastic — a charming, affable, and charismatic individual always willing to help lost Wanderers. Their effects on the position of Archivist cannot be overstated. The First Archivist fulfilled the role exceptionally, but the Second expanded the position's scope and power dramatically. The Grand Archivist went from simply a leader and director of Librarians to something else entirely. The Second set the precedent of constructing new facilities for Wanderers, of acquiring media beyond literature for the Shelves, and of instituting magical defenses against invaders and burners. The Archivist became the closest thing that existed to a head Librarian, with the associated respect coming from all Wanderers. They were regularly sought out for advice, inquiries, and arbitration by patrons. Perhaps most importantly, the Second constructed and maintained the Five Archives - gigantic vaults beneath the Library, housing things from magical artifacts and dangerous secrets to mundane necessities for the Library's function, like boilers and storerooms. While some Wanderers took a vicious stance against this perceived suppression of knowledge, the Second's celebrity more than convinced most people of the importance of it. It is believed the lack of identity behind the Second is intentional; when they were elevated to their position, they shed all trappings of their previous existence. They abandoned any identity they had built to truly devote themself to the service of the Library; the True Archivist. May their soul live on forevermore.

Третьи

The Thirds were a unique case among Librarians. Ferra and Feros Xorvar, fraternal twins, gifted scholars and beautiful nobles of high birth, they were both selected to be the Chief Archivists. It is unclear whether the Library mistook them for the same person, or whether this was an intentional decision. Regardless, it panned out particularly well - Feros provided a gentle touch and friendly public face to cater to the Wanderers with matters in need of arbitration or concerns, and Ferra provided a shrewd and learned approach to the upkeep and maintenance of the Library. Together, they led the construction of the Sticks - a housing project around the titular Stick, a gargantuan tree sprouting from the floor of the Library. Through magic and Librarian labor, a sort of tree-skyscraper was constructed around it, providing free and available housing for Wanderers who wished to make the Library home. Infinitely bigger on the interior, the Sticks ushered in a new era of Library history, giving it permanent residents and places for them to live. The Thirds led this era; may their souls live on forevermore.

Четвёртый

Мы не говорим о Четвёртом Архивариусе. Да горит его душа в Аду.

Пятый

The Fifth was the Gryphon, a titanic creature resembling a cross between a sphinx and a thunderbird. While all other Archivists took the defense of the Library seriously, the Fifth took it to a new degree; she is often called the Archivist-General for this reason. Instead of the historically defensive posture of Librarians, the Gryphon took the naturally honor-driven warrior culture of her people and applied it to the defense of the Library. Instead of waiting for Bookburners to assault the Library or hunt Wanderers through Ways, she actively lured Bookburners into traitorous Ways where they would be torn apart by cosmic forces. She would feign retreat, they would charge into the Library before being set upon by furious Docents and Pages (and the occasional Wanderer). Her motherly protection of the Library has earned her historically high esteem among Wanderers; her tenure was during the Great Searing and the associated assaults from the Caesar's Eagles — her vigilant defense of the Library may have saved it from decades of destruction. May her soul live on forevermore.

Шестой

Sixth Archivist Caduale Mezerizo was the shortest serving among the Eighth; not much remains to be said about him that has not already been said. In his few short cycles, he accomplished little beyond the obligations of advisorship and stewardship the role demands. He died in his sleep the first time he allowed himself to rest. May his soul live on forevermore.

Седьмой

The Seventh Archivist was a legend in life, and doubly so in his absence. His name was Jericho Benalsh, and in his (relatively) short 80 years of tending the Library, he cemented his status as a patron saint of the Library. He vastly expanded the Library's knowledge base on other organizations of the world, instituted the Stacks system of organization, and reconstructed the collapsed areas of the Inner Library, among other achievements. He was also the first Human Archivist, and faced down considerable resistance for it — while many a Wanderer claim to be egalitarian in the pursuit of knowledge, inborn biases are difficult to overcome. But Benalsh's deeds in the name of the Library silenced his opposition while simultaneously creating raucous support from Human Wanderers. Unfortunately, one of the reasons Humans are derided by certain Wanderers is due to their comparatively short lifespans — Grand Archivist Jericho Benalsh passed peacefully in his sleep, at the age of 102 cycles. May he live on forevermore.

Восьмой

Little can be recorded about the Eighth Archivist at this moment, purely due to his freshness. Indeed, he was inaugurated on the eve of the Cycle, only four days before this treatise's publication — consider this an addendum to be expanded on. At the moment, what is known of the new Archivist is his form - a massive, twisting and writhing insectoid of indeterminate length. Despite his frankly terrifying appearance, he has developed a reputation among Wanderers as an esteemed scholar and organizer. Unlike most Wanderers, who make their homes in the Sticks, he is said to have a "nest", as it were, in the deeper, lower reaches of the Library. His inauguration speech remains to be made, but this writer has high hopes for the thing people are calling "the Rounderpede".