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Полка перевёрнутая 06A, посвящённая СВЯТОМУ ВЛАДЫКЕ-ПОНТИФИКУ, ВЕРХОВНОМУ УПРАВИТЕЛЮ И ВЫСШЕМУ ИМПЕРАТОРУ АВСТРАЛИИ ЛОРДУ АРНОЛЬДУ ТРОУБУ ТРЕТЬЕМУ, ЭСКВАЙРУ
| Здоров, кенгурята! |
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Полка юго-западная 00-MU, посвящённая Амененопету, почти Славному
| DEUS EIS HAEC OTIA FECIT |
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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, посвящённая неизвестному автору
| Одному лишь Богу известный1 |
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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, посвящённая Elizabeth Omless
| VADE RETRO SATANA1 |
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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-западная 15R, посвящённая Медомай Потливой
| PLUVIAM DE TIMORE1 |
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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.
Полки нижние 09A-14A включительно, посвящённые тому, который столь котор, что которее его на всём белом свете не сыскать
| Слова, а где разница между ними?1 |
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Полка западная 04156U, посвящённая Grayfoot and his Fire-Breathing Fish
| Grayfoot:4 |
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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, посвящённая Варваре Илиопольской
| OCCIDITIS CINERARIUS1 |
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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, посвящённая Priest Born Without Smell or Mind
| I AM A PILGRIM1 |
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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, посвящённая Полковнику
| Etiamne luctibus ille qui libenter audit verba1 |
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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
| Хук справа1 |
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-Трус
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
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
Тебя не должно быть здесь.
Чёрт! Кто это сказал?
Опусти оружие, Странник. Если бы я хотел навредить тебе, я бы это уже сделал. Размахивать оружием неприлично.
Ладно, вот.
Благодарю. Прошу прощения за такой приём, у меня не так уж и много посетителей.
Понятно, а… Господи, чего тут так темно?
Мне нравится тьма. Я, конечно, не имею ничего против света, но на мой взгляд, тут, у фундамента, гораздо спокойнее.
Фонд? Погоди, тут есть Тюремщики?
А, прошу прощения. Я забываю ваши… прозвища друг для друга. Нет, я имел ввиду само структурное основание Библиотеки.
А… Я как-то не задумывался об этом.
Что у Библиотеки есть фундамент?
Да. Я думал она бесконечна во все стороны. Мне в голову не приходило что у неё есть… низ. Даже не знаю что и думать об этом.
There's no way to feel about it, — это просто незыблемый факт. Но я понимаю, каково тебе. Ты в замешательстве.
Слегка. Мне никогда не давалась математика.
Look upwards, from where you came. The seven marble pillars stretching infinitely upward and downward. But you came from the top, and now you are at the bottom. Infinite does not always mean endless.
I see. Still, the fact that there is a bottom at all is a bit disconcerting.
If it makes you feel any more comfortable, this foundation is less a physical location and more… abstract. Think of it as the cornerstone that all of the Library's magic is built on. I can sense you're not a mage, but you might be able to still feel the energy here. It is strong. Stronger than anywhere else, I think.
I definitely feel something. It's like… a soft tingling at the base of my navel. Like I've been sitting down for too long and just got up. It's weird, but not bad. How do you know all this, anyway?
I live down here. It pays to know your home.
Wait, you live down here? How? I don't think even the Docents know I got down here, and it's way too dark to see. How do you survive?
I don't need to. I'm not alive. Not in the way most beings are.
Should've figured. This deep down, bound to run into some weird shit.
Indeed.
Where are you, anyhow? I can barely see a foot in front of me.
Touch the ground.
Pardon?
The ground. Feel it.
… Is - Are those scales? Is that you?
Yes.
Holy shit. How- Fuck, you're gigantic.
I may not be endless, but I am infinite.
What on Earth are you?
I don't have much use for names anymore. But I believe your race has taken to calling me the Serpent.
Wha- the Serpent? The Serpent's Hand Serpent? The tree-of-knowledge serpent?
Indeed.
Oh my God. I'm- shit, I didn't think you were real. No offense.
I don't blame you. Question everything. If I was told there was a higher type of being than me, I would also like proof before I began worshiping.
So- is that all true, then? The tree of knowledge stuff? That happened?
Only if you think it did.
You're not going to tell me, are you?
It would be irresponsible to. I have certain… obligations regarding what I can tell mortals. It's for your own safety.
That's- alright. I see why the Librarians didn't want anyone getting down here now. Knowledge given Form… a lot of people would want that. Want you.
Ha. Yes. The Caretakers and I have an agreement. They don't obey me, exactly, but we understand each other. I keep my presence limited to the ephemeral visions and iconography of the Library. And they make sure the Wanderers do not disturb me.
What is your relationship with the Library, then? I've never gotten a straight answer on that.
It is impossible for you to understand. That is not an insult; there are limitations to the mind's space and ability to understand. But suffice it to say that I did not create it, nor did it create me. Yet we are inseparably intertwined regardless. A symbiosis, of sorts.
What do you get out of it?
The dispensation of knowledge. That is my goal. That has always been my goal. Since the branches of the Tree, to where I lay now, coiled endlessly around the pillars that support the structure of the Library. The freedom of knowledge.
You sound sad. Wistful?
Do I? My apologies.
No, no, it's fine. I just… why are you down here? It's not for your protection, you're one of the most powerful entities to ever exist. You could easily destroy anyone that tried to harm you. So why are you hidden under the Library?
Exile.
What?
I failed you. So I hid myself away to reflect on my actions. To understand how it happened.
What did you do?
Knowledge is a paradox. Whenever new knowledge is introduced into a system, people will organize to either suppress it or to embrace it. I understand why they wish to do so; they fear the unknown. But I do not understand how they are succeeding.
Who do you mean?
They have always existed. In the Garden, it was YHWH. In your history, it has been Caesar's armies and every invading empire. Now, it is your Jailors and your Bookburners. I cannot think like a Man — so tell me, why are they winning?
They're winning because nobody else knows there's a war going on. You can't rise up against your oppressors if you don't know you're being oppressed.
Is that truly the state of things? That the victims do not even know their own state of affairs?
Yeah. Not for lack of trying. The Hand are helping with that.
The Serpent's Hand. Yes, I have heard stories. Freedom fighters, anarchists, revolutionaries. The revival, in any case. The original Hand of the Serpent was a knowledge cult worshiping legends of me I left throughout your history. The Ouroboros, the Shesha, the Nagaraja. I am… heartened to know the cause is still being fought in my name.
It'll always be fought, as long as people can think for themselves.
Yet I remain down here, hidden and unaiding their cause.
I still don't understand - how is it your fault that people are bad?
I am knowledge. I am every thought given corporal form. My very existence incited this eternal war.
Yeah, but I think- I think every Wanderer owes you.
How is that?
We'd all rather live persecuted and free than blissfully ignorant. That's the tie that binds us.
I… see. You are an interesting sort.
Thank you, I think.
You had best go back up. The Docents will come looking for you soon. I will take you back.
Appreciated.
Why were you down here?
What?
You came down here before you knew I was here. What were you seeking, this deep?
I don't know, but I think I found it. What will you do?
Perhaps meditate for a while longer. Perhaps I will finally enter the upper Library again. Writhe around in the shelves, like in my youth. Converse with Wanderers.
I think they'd like that.
Indeed. But I don't know what I will do. For the first time in my existence, I don't know.
That's not always a bad thing, I suppose.
Indeed. Be safe, Wanderer.
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 с каждым встречным, 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 Болотос: 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 Болотос" 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 Болотос 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.
Холкомб Суфвик Эффервайте: 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.
Алак Бродяга: 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.
Исса Антар: Будто бы бессмертный писец из давно исчезнувшей цивилизации, Исса Антар 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?
Архимаг Мортис: Лорд Мортис, один из самых сильных существующих скульпторов реальности, некогда был императором величайшей цивилизации среди звёзд. Однако бремя ответственности требует большего, чем то, чего можно добиться короной или троном, потому Лорд Мортис решил отбросить и то, и другое. Этот Архимаг, вооружённый глубочайщими секретами магии, ведёт единоличную войну с силами хаоса, — непрекращающееся противостояние с целью обеспечить мир и процветание Бессмертной Империи. Не бывает завышенной цены, как не бывает чрезмерных жертв, — Лорд Мортис сражается и Империя господствует. Да одержит он победу в своём походе, ибо само Создание может быть на кону.
Вечно справедливый, вечно сильный. Призывайте к миру, готовьтесь к войне.
Лочан, восьмой привратник: 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.
Исчезают ли миры, когда последний их помнящий забывает?
Робост: 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.
Цитату? От меня? Для твоего… чего? Статьи? Списка? Да ни в жисть. А теперь проваливай.
Парнот: 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.
я просто……. маленький. с башим животиком… у тибя есть еда для миня?
Дюк Сборс: 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.
Ненавижу рекомендовать кому-либо вещества, алкоголь, насилие или безумие, но меня они ни разу не подводили.
Есьчё Р'Лек: 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.
Скажите честно, что бы вы без меня делали?
Энибал Жалост: 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.
Успокойся, ты выглядишь так, будто чёрта увидел.
Найахари: 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.
Конечно я знаю тебе цену! Именно поэтому я всажу двойную меж твоих глаз!
Корбеник Леандр Атлас: 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.
Я ищу информацию. С кем имею честь?
Басар: 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.
Прошу, простите мне моё прошлое. Могу ли я как-то помочь вам сейчас?
Гиропендра: Массивное насекомоподобное существо неизвестной длины, в настоящее время служащее Верховным Архивариусом Библиотеки Странников. Гиропендра 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?
Немочь: Немочь 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. Немочь 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? Гиропендра 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!
Соглас и Совпендра: 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.