You bend down to seize the last book remaining unchecked. Upon realizing it is not what you seek, you exclaim “By the whiskers of a wyvern… what fate-weaver has decided today is the day to —” and just as you are about to finish that frustrated thought, a shadow is casted upon the Guidehall shelves before you. You feel every hair rise on the nape of your neck and carefully reach for your dagger. As you turn to face what could only be an enemy your eyes lock with…

“Grand Archivist Nettletome,” you utter softly.

Your immediate change in tone a sign that you do indeed face an enemy - an enemy of frivolity. In front of you stands a tall and unyielding woman, carved from old wars and ancient magics. As she opens her mouth to scold you, you spot what appears to be a never ending tunnel of teeth. You wonder to yourself, what manner of creature is she?

“This is a place of silence and information. Will you adjust your volume, or shall I cast a spell that shall help you do so?" Nettletome speaks in a low, slow moving and sharp voice. An image of a blade’s edge flashes in your mind and you make note to never cross this terrifying keeper of quiet again.

“Apologies Grand Archivist, I cannot find the tome I seek. Might I request your assistance?” you query with eyes pleading that Nettletome allows you to live to see another day.

“Very well adventurer, follow me and I shall aid your search…” Nettletome hisses while slowly turning and summoning her glasses with a flick of her wrist. Your eyes widen as you realize the frames are made of bone.