The entry of the Inner Sanctum

  The warm, reddish light of magic lead your eyes to a small, wooden counter, stashed with old foliants and books, when you enter the library.   You wonder how old these documents may be, when you set one foot in front of the other without thinking. Before you even notice, you stand right before the dark wood. You let your fingers wander over the dark leather of books, which seemed to be a thousand years old. Time peeled off the golden letters, which could've said you more about the content. Excitement rises inside you. What kind of wisdom may lay here and rot for ages?   There's and odd peace around you, calms you and makes you nervous at the same time. It's not cold or warm, you can't find any dust on your first look around, which seems strange. This must be a place of pure magic, you assume.   Was there a sound? You listen. Your surroundings seems to whisper in your ears. Or wait, does it? Was it just in your imagination? Forgetting how to breathe, you listen further. It took you a while to identify the sound around you - silence. The silence is so absolute, that it's whispering without a voice right into your head.   Suddenly your body reminds you to breathe and your lungs filled with old, ancient air. You blew your nostrils to take another deep breath. The smell of thousands of books tickles your nose, provoke you to sneeze. Your own 'achoo' disturbs the absolute silence around you and the feeling that you frightened it away is coming through your mind.   "Bless you", a dark, rusty voice said.   Now you are the scared one. You didn't notice someone around you, but now, that your eyes are used to the red-shimmerish light of the library, you see an old man sitting behind the counter.   Aware, that your mouth stands open, you close it with a clapping sound, just to open it again. "Thank you. I... sorry, I didn't see you", you mumble, as you look at the person in front of you.   A grin appears in the man's old, worn face, as he arise from his stool. Now, in the shimmering light of what may be some kind of lantern, you can see his parchment-like skin, the dark, oily eys, dark, bushy eyebrows and long, white hair and beard. A long robe, which could have been blue hundreds of years ago, draped his body. Old hands arise out of embroidered sleeves, resting on the polished wood in front of you.   It's been awhile, since someone visited me. I may have fell asleep, I'm very sorry. Let me welcome you in the Inner Sanctum of Andara, the great hall of wisdom. You may call me The Librarian.   How may I help you, young traveller?   The old librarian has a friendly look at you, as he awaits your answer.


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5 Dec, 2018 07:54

Mmmm I don't know if I trust this guy. Why doesn't he ever dust his books? Come on man. Hygiene.

5 Dec, 2018 08:37

Dsruman didn't make his nailseither. He's still cool. Evil, but cool.

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