The Rounderpede's Nest
rating: +23+x

You can feel the must of rotting paper and glue heavy in the air. This place is old — older than you or the bones littering the rough-hewn floor, only some of which are human. Maybe as old as the Library itself. Not that you'd know — you're the only person you know to have come this deep and survived this long. The kerosene lamp trembles in your hand as you explore your surroundings, running your hands over the aged books, pressed together to form walls as hard as any concrete. You hear a skittering noise behind you, and whip the lantern around in terror. There it stands in front of you, in all its horror — a writhing serpent of chitin and legs, looping over itself endlessly in a shifting dance. Your eyes drift up to find its head, but all you can see are two piercing white eyes. The Horror of Shelf 17-North-by-West, the Protector of Knowledge, the Eighth Archivist — you've stumbled right into…


The Rounderpede's Nest







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