После неспешной прогулки меж полок вы собрали внушительную стопку случайных книг. Не нашли что искали? Загляните в Индекс или Первое крыло.
Полки
Полка перевёрнутая 06A, посвящённая GODKING POPE VICEROY EMPEROR OF AUSTRALIA LORD ARNOLD TROBE III, ESQUIRE
| G'day, mates! |
|---|
Полка юго-западная 00-MU, dedicated to Amenenope the Almost Glorious
| DEUS EIS HAEC OTIA FECIT |
|---|
In fact, their calculations were so precise that they didn’t take in account the fundamental imprecision of the Universe and most things living in it. On the night of Amenenope’s supposed conception His father drank a little too much after leaving work, and was then unable to find his way home and conceive the Most Glorious. The soothsayers were left with a stained reputation1 and a useless statue while the mostly uncaring Universe moved on.
But even if you never were, O Almost Glorious, you are remembered.
1. This detail may explain the then-Archivist’s decision to devolve much of the shelf space occupied by prophetic volumes to the topic of ornamental topiary
Полка западная 01A, dedicated to the unknown author
| Known but to God1 |
|---|
Being that the statuette serves as an abstract representation to a concept rather than the depiction of a person, it would be prudent to discuss the nature of the shelf itself.
The shelf presents a problem of accounting, given total amount of collected works and registered authors varies wildly. Docents have reported the shelf to contain 1362 works on one occasion, only to have the number double upon returning after a short recess, and then halve after tea.
The texts that rest upon these shelves are often drafts or first editions and often unfinished, as if plucked from the imagination of the authors themselves. As a testament to the untamed potential of works not yet written, and a daring symbol for all would be writers to just sit the down and write something already.
Полка восточная 15E, dedicated to Elizabeth Omless
| VADE RETRO SATANA1 |
|---|
Elizabeth Omless was one who would not submit to the darkness and the spirits within it and encouraged the use of many of the practices we use today.
On a fateful day at an unknown time, Elizabeth entered the Library as a teen after escaping from the lost soul of her grandfather who had recently passed away. She tripped down a flight of stairs, accidentally triggered a Way, and was immediately surrounded by novels, guides, and even pamphlets on defeating the ghosts of the past. Once she overcame her initial shock, she grabbed the nearest pamphlet she could find1 and successfully used the knowledge to send her grandfather to the afterlife. Since then, she thoroughly explored the field of exorcism, from deities to metals, often conducting her own research and fieldwork2. She made well-known the practices of using cinnamon candles, certain religious texts, and other once-obscure defenses to ward off spirits, some of which we take for granted today. She passed away at some unknown point after the Spirit Infestation died down, though her spirit has yet to be seen.
You will be remembered, Elizabeth, along with the silver beads woven in your hair.
1. How to Guide the Lost Dead and Make Them Happy About It, written by Oscar Phantasm, translated by Dorothy Phantasm
2. This was done during a time the Library was infested with spirits that were unable/unwilling to leave the library and pass onto their respective afterlives. For more information on the Spirit Infestation, contact the Spectral Research Desk.
Полка юго-западня 15R, dedicated to Medomai the Perspirant
| PLUVIAM DE TIMORE1 |
|---|
Although possessed of an innocent curiosity and a compassionate disposition, Medomai's condition quickly earned her the ire of both the Librarians and her fellow Wanderers. An acrid stench was the perennial harbinger of Medomai's impending approach, with a streak of rancid sweat always trailing in her wake. An untold number of texts were irrevocably damaged when exposed to Medomai, whose perspiration ruined the pages of Anton Fisk's Seventh Treatise of Multicorporeal Entities and rendered Karlov's Sonnet of the White Dwarf illegible.
In an effort to bring the senseless massacre of tomes to an end, an assortment of Wanderers captured Medomai and sequestered her in the Southwest wing. As they deliberated on how to deal with Medomai and her excretions, the issue resolved itself when Medomai quietly expired to dehydration. A brief memorial was held, the nearest shelf dedicated to her, and Medomai's remains were returned to her homeworld.
And so, for the stains she left upon the Library, Medomai is remembered.
Полка нижняя 09A-14A inclusive, dedicated to the which than which there is no whicher.
| Words, where is the difference between one and another?1 |
|---|
Полка западная 04156U, dedicated to Grayfoot and his Fire-Breathing Fish
| Grayfoot:4 |
|---|
The Library reluctantly accepted his request, and put his 617-page book about the fire-breathing fish on Shelf 4156T.
In 1913, Grayfoot requested a glass aquarium for his fish in the Library. The Library accepted this, and Grayfoot began work on his aquarium, which took up a large portion of the Library. When Grayfoot finished his glass aquarium in 1925, he transported all his fire-breathing fish to it.
One fateful day on 1938, Grayfoot was reading a book next to the glass aquarium. One of the fire-breathing fish leaped out of the aquarium and onto the ground. Out of its mouth, came its fire-breath, which lit the bottom of Shelf 4156T on fire, causing it to collapse on the aquarium, burning Grayfoot, all his fire-breathing fish, and A Study on the Fire-Fish.
For your fishy fire, Grayfoot, we will remember you.
Полка вывернутая 44K, dedicated to Saint Barbara
| OCCIDITIS CINERARIUS1 |
|---|
It is well documented in many sources1 that Saint Barbara was very unfond of his hair, which was completely normal, apart from the facts that it was entirely comprised of spaghetti, and that it regrew extremely quickly.
Saint Barbara, during his one of his many expeditions to attempt fixing his hair, stumbled upon a Way, bringing him to the Library, which was going through one of the worst famines in history2.
The presence of Saint Barbara and, more importantly, his nourishing hair, provided the malnourished residents with much needed sustenance, saving more than five million lives.
Saint Barbara eventually went to the desert planet of Kevhrpi, hoping the planet's many famous alchemists could help him with his noodly hair. He was ultimately unsuccessful, but spent an inordinate amount of time there, accidentally amassing a following of the planet's oppressed and hungry lower-caste citizens, which gave him the title of "Saint" after his death at the hands of the upper-caste rulers.
For your timely appearance and delicious scalp, Saint Barbara, we remember you.
1: Most prominently in "The Records of The Delectable Locks" by Rava Ohli, whose five hundred seventy-four pages is entirely filled with the written records of the bemoanings of Saint Barbara during his extremely long visit in Kevhrpi.
2: Information regarding the Years of the Strange Starvation can be found in the Archives, made available upon request for browsing only.
Полка на боку 25FF, dedicated to the Priest Born Without Smell or Mind
| I AM A PILGRIM1 |
|---|
1. A homeless sage of reptilian origin who acted as a informal assistant to the Docents. A general nuisance, he was eventually joined into the Docents' ranks, but not before his questionable knowledge was recorded.
2. Warfarers who are known by many names by many people, little information is known beyond the knowledge that they were the creators of the Red Door Room, and other such places. It is also known that they do not take prisoners alive.
Полка северо-запад-тень-восточная 5A, dedicated to the Colonel
| Etiamne luctibus ille qui libenter audit verba1 |
|---|
While the Colonel died a grotesque death to a member of the large and aggressive Gallus gallus undomesticus3 species in In the Year of Our Lady 2526-XY2F, his statue immortalizes his kindness and sympathy towards others. It has become a rite of passage in many circles to visit the Colonel and cleanse yourself of all guilt and sadness of your past. And many who sit next to the statue swear that they see his marble eyes twinkle with compassion and feel his arm uncomfortably tightening around them, as they tell their stories and their woes to him. Legends say that the books that the Colonel watches over are the transcriptions of the stories he has been told over the eons he has watched over us.
For your kindness and ability to listen, Colonel, we remember you.
1: Much to the displeasure of the Möbius strip.
2: Many automatons may have gained sentience from having a conversation with the Colonel
3: Released by an Way accident that occurred when the Colonel forgot to carry the 1, and instead multiplied by π
Полка обратная 72É, dedicated to the Kilometres1 Langley
| Right Hook1 |
|---|
-A Coward
The match of David and Goliath in the Ring of Samuel is not one that will soon be forgotten by the annals of history.
Seven rounds had gone through, and it was a miracle that David could still stand, bruises colouring his body with all the hues of the rainbow. Despite the long match time, however, Goliath was as energetic as he was coming into the bout. David cursed his luck, only having to fight the beast because his team's leader took a sudden rain check on the team. Regardless, self-pity was not the key to victory; David would have to think on his feet and with his fists.
In the face of Goliath's endless jabs, David's solution was ill-conceived, but it was his only chance. He ducked, and as Goliath's fist flew down, David rolled out of the way, the giant's fist leaving a crater in the middle of the ring. David promptly grabbed a piece of the rubble and swung it at Goliath's head, knocking the beast to the ground. This was, at the time, perfectly within the rules, and was only professionally banned a century after David's victory. The death of Goliath in the ring is symbolic of many things; triumph in the face of adversity, quick thinking in a tough situation, and the fact that weight classes are for cowards.
1: born Miles
Остальные переводы
Далее представлено собрание литературы касательно Александрийской Библиотеки, — ныне закрытой программы просветительской деятельности. В силу возраста этих документов, их просмотр разрешён только через интранет или в одной из наших специализированных стерильных комнат. За помощью обратитесь к ближайшему библиотекарю.
Запись 1
3710, Anno Mundi,
On this blessed day, I vow to stand trial for my sins. I have burned down my library. The men I have come to call jailors have fled, as have my fellow Wanderers. Amid the panic as Caesar burned his fleet, I took the three books I valued most and brought my torch to the shelves. It was a clever plot. The civilians shall think the fires have spread to the library from the docks. My tracks are covered.
Euclid was a wonderful man. Until we showed him a structure that took his contribution to man, geometry, and twisted it in ways he couldn't explain. He couldn't appreciate the impossibility of the shape purely for its beauty. He had to break it down, to understand. He was the first to steal from the library. Other scholars followed.
We never should have worked together with those "men of the sciences". I watched every day, as they perused my shelves, desecrating them, making off with our more valuable items. All the while, they grinned. They participated in our debates. They lied through their teeth. They do not value that which they do not understand. They steal it away. They put it under lock and key.
No more. I have taken our most valuable works, and I have set fire to this damnable place. It was a mistake on the part of the Wordsmith guild to try to enlighten those who do not travel. It was a mistake on the part of my mentor, Aristophanes, to ever let that mathematician, Euclid of Alexandria, into our inner circle.
I shall return these works to the Tree of Knowledge, and leave the scorched earth of Egypt to claim what remains. Then, I shall return to my self imposed exile on the isle of Cyprus.
-Аристарх Восточного Самотраки
Запись 2
Год Господа Разрушителя нашего, 391, н.э.
Against the advice of myself and several of my peers, the council decided to repair the library. This was many years ago. May the records remember this. Against my will, I was elected the new head librarian. I'm sure my unnaturally long lifespan influenced their decision. The skatophage can't recognize a sore subject when they see one.
Today, we are under attack, and I doubt many of the fine Wanderers hiding among the shelves shall survive. We foresaw this, 40 years ago, and we took the appropriate measures. We shipped the books previously kept here back to the Tree. We closed the Serapeum and filled our shelves with its relatively worthless books.
The church has turned against us. Most likely because of my appearance. After all, men abhor what they believe is different. They call me a demon, merely because I have yellow eyes and scales. Bishop Theophilus has brought together a mob. They shall burn us. Burn our books. Burn everything that they believe is different. Alexandria is aflame again.
-Евнапий
Запись 3
This is madness. Alexandria has been taken by the Religious Dissidents, led by that jackal, Caliph Omar. I was present when they held a public execution of our head librarian, along with many other political figures of the city. I was there when he ordered the destruction of the books from the library. He told his followers that if the books agreed with their beliefs, they were useless, and if they didn't, they were pernicious. I had never seen such blatant hatred for the written word. They use our books as firestarter. My heart aches. I wasn't able to save a single book. Not even our precious first edition of the Dimensional Atlas.
Today marks yet another tragedy in Alexandria. It was entirely avoidable, but in the end, we continue to be fools. We try to teach the masses when they don't want to learn. I swear upon the Serpent, if I get out of here alive, the next person in the council who suggests reopening the outreach program is getting my sword in their gut.
(The following seems to have been written at a later time. It can be found on the backside of the page.) I write this from inside the walls. I can't leave. The Way is sealed. They stone scholars to death in the streets, and they leave the corpses in the open to rot. There is no longer any pretense of religious conversion. They kill indiscriminately, the monsters. I fear for the children I have hidden here with me. I fear for myself because I will do anything to save these children. Even feed them the flesh from my bones, that they may live a while longer.
-И.Н. 641 н.э.
Вырезка из номера "Planasthai" от ноября 2002.
(неразборчиво)-"Прошло более тысячи лет. В мире всё ещё остались невежды, но людей, которые жаждут учиться, намного больше. Ошибки прошлого ныне позади. Пришло время библиотеке вновь протянуть руку помощи и предложить свои знания. Я объявляю библиотеку Александрина открытой." - С этими словами Исмаил Серагельдин открыл двери в новый корпус библиотеки, дав начало новому веку информац-(неразборчиво)
Вырезка из номера "Alexandria Times" 2011 года.
(неразборчиво)-ующие устроили пожары по всему городу. Сообщается о многих раненых, несколько зданий было полностью разрушено. Среди них Библиотека Александрина, труды из которой теперь утеряны наве-(неразборчиво)
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.
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.
Содержание |
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".
Видные Странники и персонажи
Библиотека доступна бесчисленному множеству миров и реальностей, а следовательно её посетители настолько разнообразны и странны, насколько это только можно себе представить. Но некоторые Странники выделяются на фоне остальных, зарабатывая известность (или дурную славу) в залах Библиотеки из-за своих действий или иным другим путём. То же верно и для Библиотекарей — несмотря на то, что большинство из них являются древними, молчаливыми стражами, — некоторые добровольные Библиотекари также известны среди бывалых Странников. Далее представлен упрощённый список этих редких существ.
Профессор Антон Волек: Скелетообразный посетитель Библиотеки Странников, по-видимому, не связанный ни с одной из организаций. Дружелюбный почти со всеми, кого встречает, он имеет склонность донимать Персонал в самое неподходящее время. Его прошлое окутано тайной, а записи о его прежнем рабочем месте, Университете Дерозена, были уничтожены во время Великого Сожжения. Он прилагает все усилия, чтобы собирать и объединять истории в своей работе "Сборник загадочных произведений и рассказов профессора Волека".
Зачем довольствоваться мирским, если есть необычное?
Др. Морган Джеймс Марш: Тёмный колдун и репортёр-ссыщик, работающий на издательство Planasthai. Управляясь с пером так же легко, как и с нечестивыми заклинаниями, он остаётся одним из самых уважаемых авторов издания на десятилетия дольше, чем можно было бы предположить по его магически сохранённой молодости. Его колонка "Рассказы Марша" даёт свежий и приземлённый взгляд на места и события в других измерениях, где читатели газеты не смогли бы самостоятельно наблюдать и выживать в силу недостатка тайных сил. Более века жизни, потраченной на сувание своего носа в дела других людей, обогатили доктора Марш богатыми знаниями как древних секретов, так и мошеннических схем, и он, как правило, рад поделиться тем, что знает, за правильную цену (обычно бурбон.)
Доступны консультации по снятию проклятий, умерщвлению демонов, некромантии и демонологии. Цены варьируются в зависимости от сложности, объёма души и опасности существованию. Обращаться в Офис 6 Следственно-Исследовательского Отдела, Planasthai.
Гольком Саввик Эффертвэйт: Однотонный человек, чья история была утеряна вместе с его домом. Преступник лишь номинально, он безрассудно делит своё время между Библиотекой (где вечная амнистия и тайные убежища обеспечивают долгожданную передышку) и прыжками между реальностями, поиском ответов и бегством от правоохранительных органов мультивселенной. Его хобби многочисленны и дилетантски, хотя известно, что он довольно искусно владеет пером и исключительно плохо играет в азартные игры. Ни одно из его предполагаемых нарушений никогда не был доказано, и Библиотека считает его полностью невиновным в каких-либо проступках.
Здесь его искали глаза и получше ваших. Мы не отдадим его просто так. Оставьте претензии при себе и уходите подобру-поздорову.
Бродяга Алак: Давний Странник, чужой среди чужих, непревзойденный летописец и исследователь. Четверорукий и наивный, он проводит большую часть своего времени, путешествуя по многочисленным вселенным Древа Миров и записывая весь свой опыт в своей обширной Хронике. Бесстрашный и любопытный до предела, Бродяга отправляется в путешествия в самые чуждые, грандиозные и смертоносные миры и края ради открытий. Пусть его мягкость не обманывает вас; никто не выживает в мультивселенной, будучи кротким. Хотя в своих путешествиях он часто один, иногда он оказывается в компании коллег-исследователей, преступников, оккультистов и разных других интересных людей.
Все взаимодействия записаны, никаких секретов не содержится. Попутешествуйте с ним и найдёте приключение по душе.
Айса Энтар: Будто бы бессмертный писец из давно исчезнувшей цивилизации, Айса Энтар просто однажды появился среди полок и тут же приступил к работе. Когда к нему обращаются, сморщенный старик улыбается и предлагает рассказать в основном метафорическую историю, обычно включающую старика на задании. Чаще всего его можно найти в столовой, собирающим истории и записывающим свои собственные на бесконечных свитках высушенного на солнце папируса.
А вы слышали сказание об Анкрешете и его путешествиях по Дуату?
Archmage Mortis: One of the most powerful reality-warpers in existence, Lord Mortis was once Emperor of the greatest civilization to ever grace the stars. But the burden of responsibility demands more than what can be done with a crown or a throne, and Lord Mortis has seen it fit to shed both. Armed with the deepest secrets of magic, the Archmage wages a one-man war against the forces of chaos, a neverending struggle to preserve the peace and prosperity of the Immortal Empire. No cost is too high, no sacrifice is too great: Lord Mortis fights, the Empire prevails. May he triumph in his crusade; Creation itself might depend on it.
Forever just, forever strong. Vouch for peace, prepare for war.
Eighth Gatekeeper, Lochan: Once the omnipotent gatekeeper to a grand city, Lochan fled its post after being chided by Death and sought refuge within the Library's halls. Reduced to a being of uncertainty, it now lurks in the rafters of the Library, or wanders, itself forgotten, through worlds and realms alike. While impossibly difficult to get a hold of, records of it leaving artistic diagrams behind can be found within the halls. Occasionally, it will also comment on the state of affairs within the Library itself, but those who see it have no conclusive response on what the Gatekeeper now appears as.
Do worlds cease to exist when the last person to remember, forgets?
Uncertainty: One of the many masked canines within the Library's halls, Uncertainty stands out from his brethren by being the oldest of his species. While not the the nicest of creatures, Uncertainty is loyal to his creator, the Gatekeeper, until the end of times. He can often be found searching the halls for his creator's sketchbook, or, when especially bored, his creator itself.
Me? Give you a quote to use for your… what? Article? List? Not a chance. Now scram.
Parcoon: A strange amalgamation of creatures, this fat little furball has caused quite the ruckus within the halls of the Library. Attempts at finding Parcoon's owner have been unsuccessful, but he seems to have found some new friends within the Library to keep himself company in the meantime. Documentations of the creature's whereabouts, as well as a few warnings regarding concerning behavior, have been noted down extensively and are to be shared with other Patrons.
i am just……. a lil creacher. haf big tummy… you haf food for me?
Duke Gathers: A highly unesteemed journalist and drug connoisseur, this chameleon's harsh, uncompromising reporting has made his relationship with the industry sour at best. Loud-mouthed and armed solely with his wits (and sometimes with his gun), he will embark on drug-fueled rampages against The Man, no matter what face He wears. Governments, concert organizers and the press itself better watch their backs: there is no power or editor who can escape his typewriter's wrath.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.
Gottsam R'lek: A humanoid praying mantis with a penchant for fashionable scarves and colored glasses, this Planasthai staple is the other side to Duke Gathers' coin. He writes to wow and amaze the reader, with exotic universes and unsolved mysteries. He believes people don't need the extra stress, and wants to offer a reprieve from the outside world. The mantis can be self-centered and a people pleaser, but he truly does care for his job, and even more so for his fans. Don't be fooled, because despite his lavish demeanor, he's ready for a quick retort or to find a way to one-up his challengers.
Honestly, what would you do without me?
Aníbal Žalost: Real name Aníbal Salazar, Žalost is Lord Mortis' apprentice and main enforcer, a young warlock who dabbles in techno-sorcery and body augmentation. His mastery of necromancy and demonology is unquestionable, but his thirst for knowledge and his ruthlessness often have dire consequences for those around him. Wanderers beware: one never knows what dim dreams lie behind his shadowed eyes.
Relax. You look like you just saw the Devil.
Nayáhuari: A brutal contract killer and bounty hunter, Nayáhuari has carved herself a reputation as the best the Guild of Assassins has to offer. Feared even by her peers and willing to take virtually any target for the right amount, she has expanded her hunting grounds to every corner of the known Universe, fueled by an unyielding thirst for money and more challenging kills. One would be well-advised to never fully trust her, for this assassin's allegiance is to herself and coin alone.
Of course I know your worth! It's why I'm putting two between your eyes!
Corbenic Leander Atlas: An enigmatic and rarely-seen wanderer, C. L. Atlas spends most of his time following the stories of those who can no longer speak for themselves. Boasting investigative skills to match his colossal frame, Atlas uses his formidable combination of brains and brawn to brave the highest peaks in an attempt to uncover stories lost to time. A skilled warlock, mountaineer, engineer, and storyteller, Atlas is more than prepared for any situation that may come his way.
I’m looking for information. To whom do I owe the pleasure?
Basar: A former jailor who in his retirement, ended up making a home for himself in the Library. How exactly he ended up with a library card is a mystery to even the Archivists, but since he spends his days defending the Library or helping solve its mysteries, they turn a blind eye to it.
Please, forgive me for my past. Is there something I can help you with today?
Раундэрпид: Массивное насекомоподобное существо неизвестной длины, в настоящее время служащее Верховным Архивариусом Библиотеки Странников. Раундэрпид предшествовал большинству современных Странников — история гласит, что он попал в Библиотеку из неизвестных мест в период великого упадка и бездействия и, преисполненный чувства цели, о которой он ныне забыл, приступил к оживлению своего нового дома. Он быстро завоевал лояльность бездействующих Библиотекарей и стал поддерживать быстро растущую библиотеку. В наши дни большинство Странников могут заметить кажущееся бесконечным существо, свисающее с балок или снующее между полками, всегда занятое поддержанием бесконечной библиотеки в рабочем состоянии. Но стоит только приблизится к нему, и окажется, что жёсткий панцирь скрывает глубоко любознательный, немного необычный, очень острый ум, который очень заботится о своих друзьях и своём доме.
Подходи ближе, Странник! Пусть тебя не обманывают клешни, я не кусаюсь… стой, ты ведь не Тюремщик, да?
Мэлэйз: Мэлэйз родился в далёком океане, в местах, которые даже он не помнит. Будучи молодым, одиноким осьминогом, однажды он забрёл слишком далеко от гнезда и попал в прилив, который пронёс его через море в один из Путей и выпустил его в Библиотеку. Хотя в то время он не умел читать, услужливый Гид, обученный языку щупалец, смог медленно научить его основам. Мэлэйз начал жадно читать, надеясь, что книги откроют ему секрет возвращения домой, но, к сожалению, они давали только огромную магическую силу и невероятно глубокие знания о работе мультивселенной. Он принял повышение до Архивариуса в надежде, что дополнительные привилегии помогут узнать, где он когда-то жил, но ему, увы, опять не повезло. Теперь большую часть своего времени он тратит на выпивку и ругань в адрес любого, кто достаточно глуп, чтобы попросить его о помощи. Его единственным доверенным лицом является Гид, достаточно любезный, чтобы относиться к нему как к другу, — существо, некогда известное как Роналду.
Боже, это был наилучший коралловый риф… Я мог безмятежно плавать милями и те моллюски были очень вкусными… Что? Рандэрпид хочет, чтобы я отсортировал секцию 71A-13K? Принеси мне ещё пива и скажи ему, что я занят.
Скр'лк: Пожилой ученый, искатель приключений и космопутешественник. Гениальный, но импульсивный до предела, этот гоблин потратил века после побега со своей родины на самодельной ракете, пытаясь доказать, что он больше, чем свои уши и зубы. Годы странствий по космосу и мультивселенной в поисках странных существ и тайных знаний, в которых его часто сопровождал его самый надёжный спутник, — феникс космического происхождения, — заполнили несколько полок Библиотеки и сделали ему имя в академических кругах. И как бы он ни был стар, его погоню за адреналином не остановит ничто, кроме смерти.
Приключения ждут!
Ayman and Owlpede: A pair of Archivists who always seem to be at the forefront of mischief within the Library, much to Ayman's dismay. Stationed at a desk together, the two are always seen bickering, but never ask to transfer. It seems they will stick together until the end, and use their vastly differing personalities to solve the Library's greatest of challenges.
Till death do us part.
Змей: Легендарное змееподобное существо, по слухам пребывающее у основания Библиотеки. Мало что точно известно о Змее, включая вопрос о самом его существовании. Точно известно только то, что данное существо, похоже, является источником или первообразом знания. Более религиозные Странники считают, что это тот же Змей, что появляется на протяжении всей истории как Змей из райского сада, Ёрмунганд, Радужный Змей, Шеша и бесконечное множество других имён… Иные предполагают, что сама Библиотека была создана Змеем в начале времён. Некоторые Странники, кто спускался к Основанию и возвращался живым, заявляют, что встречали и даже разговаривали со Змеем, но эти истории не подтверждены. В наши дни Змей, пожалуй, наиболее известен как символ группы, называемой Длань Змея — некоторые из них заявляют, что получали видения от существа в гнезде под Библиотекой, но эти заявления, опять же, не доказаны.
Сад - вотчина Змея.