Your boots splash and squelch as you stumble through the rainy streets. It's late, far too late for anyone to be up at all, and certainly too late to be tromping around in this kind of weather. Finally, you approach the only building in the street that seems to be, like you, awake in the stormy dead of night, and pound on the door.
Huddling up against the door for the meager protection its frame offers from the freezing downpour, you can only just make out the inscription in the stone arch over the doorway before the door opens and you're ushered inside. The inscription reads
Your coat is gently taken from you and carried away to be dried, and you're told to leave your rainboots by the door. As you look around, you wonder why this place is called a "Great and Unreadable" library — surely the point of a library is to read?
The woman who took your coat returns. She's a fair-skinned young dwynth, coming up to about your shoulder in height. "Hello," she says with a smile, "It's nice to see you. We're always happy to have visitors in the Library. I'm the assistant librarian. What are you interested in?"
You look around at the shelves, all crammed with books and angled crookedly around you. You notice each shelf has a sign hanging over it, detailing the subjects of the books it holds.
"I'd like to look at the The Lands of Icosa shelf, please."
"I'd like to look at the The Icosian Peoples shelf, please."
"I'd like to look at the Icosian History shelf, please."
"Why is this place called a 'Great and Unreadable' library?"
"Who are you? Can I see the Librarian?"
"Oh, no thank you. I don't care much for books. I just came in to get out of the rain."