A Journal of Impossibilities

Auguries, author unknown. If you find a copy, keep it in a lead-lined box, hermetically sealed (both against air and with hermetic magic). Then drop it in a deep lake or something.

Canticum putei abyssi, M. Rianas. Associated with the strong smell of rotting seaweed and salt water, it is imperative that if there is even the slightest hint of encountering this text, run. Run, and don’t go anywhere near any liquid water for at least 40 hours. If you read any of the book’s contents, surround yourself with a ring of candles or other fire - lest the effects of the book manifest in the surface of your eyes.

Yvtug, author unknown. Obvious, by the blinding light it continually emits. Analysis by an acquaintance of mine who can stand such things has determined that it is a story about the ‘King of Stars’, a sentient sun who ate the souls of everything his light fell upon. What this says about the light emitted by the tome is uncertain, but its surface is hot enough to melt lead.

There are many soils one can walk across. There are many Earths, nestled in the folds of Materia. I have walked the glimmering grasses of several of them.

Grey and White.

There was once Black, Sable, Jet, or Coal. It was a horrifying creature that devoured whole cities, whose endless hunger blotted out stars. It ate its way through a thousand words and nothing could sate its hunger.

Fear too her associate, the man with a soft voice and a smile. He hides in the shadows, and darkness clings to him like tar.

Neither of them have faces. Their true names are screamed in blinding light and whispered in icy darkness, long-forgotten secrets which are deadly to know. But they use pseudonyms, for convenience.

Ash and Porcelain, Silver and Diamond, Granite and Marble, Lead and Ice, Dusk and Pale.

They started screaming soundlessly while I slept, so I traded them with a collector for sixty Carte Librarius.

Just south of the Styx, near Mictlan, there is a store that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside.

This is Notion of Darkness’ store, and she buys and sells things from all over the known Realms, for prices on the steep side of reasonable.

Harmless.

Mostly harmless.

Native to some subsegments of Materia, humans are some kind of ape or something. They’ve got the same number of arms and legs and stuff as me, although their legs are a bit weird, because they’re plantigrade.

Case Study: Alan Peterson.

He’s supposedly a monster hunter, but he jumps whenever I come up behind him, and complains about me “appearing like some kind of silent ghost”, which is totally untrue.

I might believe his continued protests that he’s not actually a monster hunter, but his list of accomplishments is pretty dang impressive. We’ve compared notes on all manner of phenomena and creatures, and his knowledge and observational skills are impressive.

Case Study: Liz Peterson

Elizabeth “Liz” Peterson is a small and mendacious creature who is living proof that A Librarians and humans can interbreed. She takes great delight in playing pranks on me when I visit, and has a quite disconcerting psychic knack from her dual heritage.

250 feet tall, the Silence in the Library is a vast demon of Silence, seemingly from somewhere elsewhere.

-seems to be some form of Audiovore, but they don’t get nearly this big! And how did it get here from Symphony? I’m pretty sure it’s bigger than can reasonably fit on the Library-Symphony local concept Causeway.

Maybe it came here in some sort of larval form?

-large discoloured patch on the carpet opened up into a deep pit full of teeth, seemingly sandwiched in the space taken up by the incredibly flat creature. I immediately-

-got to be unsanitary.

Yeah, okay, they managed to sew my arm back on, but I’m not coming to the Realm of Pestilence with open wounds again.

They live in a peaceful society, although I might have to explain the concept of “personal space” to them a little. Plus, they all seem pretty dead-set on medical experimentation on absolutely everything, and I’d prefer to stay away from that kind of thing.

Sheol is populated, not just by ghouls and Observers and shadows, but by a population of woolly lower sentients called devils. They stand at an average of 6′4″, not counting their horns, which are often taller. They have horizontal pupils, are even-toed ungulates, and have long tails with tufts on the end. Their coats come in a variety of shades, from brown through grey to black.

They are ideally suited for the Cardiomancy of Sheol, having a hardy constitution and rapid regeneration, and in fact they are born with a “contract” with the Heart of Sheol in place, allowing them to perform the art from birth.

The Mailman is a surprisingly innocuous fae creature that dwells in a partition of Faerie that seems to be a so-called “Bridging Realm” - a space that connects all (or at least most) Realms via their doors.

They can be summoned from any door, with a specific incantation, and a sigil of summoning drawn in a magically active substance like infused chalk or blood. The door will then open into the Backways, which connects to the concept of “doors” through Faerie.

Upon being summoned, they will take a single message or letter or parcel to anything capable of receiving a message (or letter or parcel). They do this, as far as I can tell, for free.

If you give them three words of comfort, five words of pain, three words of anger and five words of fear, they will open a door and let you into the Back Ways, which are basically an infinite license to get lost. Each door in the endless winding corridor leads to a different door - one of the doors of the Realms. This would be very useful if there was any indication as to what is on the other side of any of the doors. There isn’t. I found this out the hard way and after the door I entered by was shut, I was completely lost, so I left.

Useful provisions: Headtorch, maybe some glowsticks. It’s dark here, is what I’m saying.

The capital of the Gaunt civilisation within the Necropolis, the Sunless City is a city of commerce and industry, located deep in the heart of a bone-laced mountain. It is ruled by the High Lord of Fear, the “most terrifying” member of the Gaunt race. I’ve met her, and she is almost disconcertingly cordial (I suppose that’s the point).

Lots of undead Gaunts around, the so-called Dead caste. They don’t look all that different from the living ones, but they smell a bit weird.