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Description
The bright light that had engulfed Corpse-warrior had almost faded, enough for him to see that he was no longer in Switzerland. He looked around at his new surroundings; row upon row of books dwarfed him on shelves to his left and right. Several metres away he could hear a faint tapping, sounding like fingers on a keyboard.
Corpse-warrior set off in the direction of the mystery noise, walking past the books he cast his eye sockets side to side. The books all seemed to have curious titles like Andrew volume: 443663 and there also seemed to be a section labelled Poems of the deceased, he would have to take a peak at that one momentarily. As the noise grew louder he came upon a small desk, he saw that the aisle he had traversed had been one of many. The small desk was surrounded by at least 15 aisles all reaching far into the darkness, and, to cap it all off there was an elderly gentleman sitting behind the desk rocking back and forth on a creaking old wooden chair.
The old man looked up, giving Corpse-warrior a warm hearted smile, he looked 70 at least he also had a long brown beard coating his chin it did not do his white thinning hair any justice whatsoever. Find anything you like? Asked the gentleman in a voice that betrayed his ageing body. What? Like the exit? Replied Corpse-warrior. The old man leaned back in his chair and gave a small but audible laugh, then sat properly once again.
Who are you? Corpse-warrior said walking to the desk. Me? Why, I’m the curator of this fine collection of books of course. No, really? The warrior said leaning in closer, I’ve been through enough to know this isn’t a real library. The old man laughed again. Well, since you put it that way, he said, you can call me The Everseer, he held out his wrinkled hand beckoning for a shake which Corpse-warrior ignored. Sorry, he said, I don’t get many visitors, but, anyhow, let’s get down to business. Business? What business? But before he could protest the old man had risen from his seat and now stared him in the face. What’s your name? He said. Corpse-warrior why? No your real name. I’m not telling you, especially you, you kidnap me, pretend to play nice and now want to know my secret identity? Get lost.
Its Andrew isn’t it? What? How did you know? Well, said the librarian, for starters it’s on your name badge.

Corpse-warrior looked down at his chest; sure enough there was a small badge with the name Andrew scribbled on it in pencil. He gave a deep sigh, staring into the aisle marked WORDS OF CONSIDERABLE LENGTH, he was in for a long night…

Description
The bright light that had engulfed Corpse-warrior had almost faded, enough for him to see that he was no longer in Switzerland. He looked around at his new surroundings; row upon row of books dwarfed him on shelves to his left and right. Several metres away he could hear a faint tapping, sounding like fingers on a keyboard.
Corpse-warrior set off in the direction of the mystery noise, walking past the books he cast his eye sockets side to side. The books all seemed to have curious titles like Andrew volume: 443663 and there also seemed to be a section labelled Poems of the deceased, he would have to take a peak at that one momentarily. As the noise grew louder he came upon a small desk, he saw that the aisle he had traversed had been one of many. The small desk was surrounded by at least 15 aisles all reaching far into the darkness, and, to cap it all off there was an elderly gentleman sitting behind the desk rocking back and forth on a creaking old wooden chair.
The old man looked up, giving Corpse-warrior a warm hearted smile, he looked 70 at least he also had a long brown beard coating his chin it did not do his white thinning hair any justice whatsoever. Find anything you like? Asked the gentleman in a voice that betrayed his ageing body. What? Like the exit? Replied Corpse-warrior. The old man leaned back in his chair and gave a small but audible laugh, then sat properly once again.
Who are you? Corpse-warrior said walking to the desk. Me? Why, I’m the curator of this fine collection of books of course. No, really? The warrior said leaning in closer, I’ve been through enough to know this isn’t a real library. The old man laughed again. Well, since you put it that way, he said, you can call me The Everseer, he held out his wrinkled hand beckoning for a shake which Corpse-warrior ignored. Sorry, he said, I don’t get many visitors, but, anyhow, let’s get down to business. Business? What business? But before he could protest the old man had risen from his seat and now stared him in the face. What’s your name? He said. Corpse-warrior why? No your real name. I’m not telling you, especially you, you kidnap me, pretend to play nice and now want to know my secret identity? Get lost.
Its Andrew isn’t it? What? How did you know? Well, said the librarian, for starters it’s on your name badge.

Corpse-warrior looked down at his chest; sure enough there was a small badge with the name Andrew scribbled on it in pencil. He gave a deep sigh, staring into the aisle marked WORDS OF CONSIDERABLE LENGTH, he was in for a long night…