523 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
The trail ends at a wooden structure of twigs and driftwood cobbled into a whitewashed shack. A hand-painted sign over the door reads, “Wordler Public Library, est. 2022.”
The Crowhead witch stands beside the door, arms crossed, looking pleased with herself. “Welcome, friends.”
“A library!” Formerly Melvin floats out of the cart and expands from an Elf-sized translucent blob back into human-sized translucent blob. “There are so many books I wanted to read before I died, but then I died, but I could read them now, I suppose, if someone would be kind enough to turn the pages.”
“What’s going on here, Witch?” the Pooka demands. “There was a magical spring here, just a few days back.”
“I assure you,” says the Crowhead, “you won’t find a more magical spring than your local public library. This is a place where knowledge pools and collects. This is a place where ancient wisdom trickles through your fingers. This is a place where you can gaze upon your own reflection or drink deeply from tales of adventure.”
The Pooka stomps its hooves. “I didn’t come back here for a metaphor, and I certainly didn’t come for this collection of building code violations. I need an actual, literal spring of disgustingly tangerine-flavored water.”
“Sir, look.” Val the Simian points to a trickle of orange water and glowing glyphs emerging from the back of the shack and feeding into the headwaters of the Logorrhean River. “It would appear that this new structure houses the spring.”
“What’s old is new,” the Crowhead cackles. “The fabled Lost Library once stood on this spot, back in the ancient days when the Parade of Faeries wended across the REALM in seven strands that came together here in a glorious celebration of World and Otherworld, Elves and Faeries, Humans and Pookas, Folk and Subterraneans, Witches and Librarians. All of them put their differences aside and shared a meal of thanksgiving.”
“And you were there?” asks Gloriander, with eyes full of wonder.
The Crowhead blinks. “What? No. I’ve only just read about it.” She holds up a musty leatherbound tome. “How old did you think I was?”
“Where did you get the book?” the Pooka asks.
The Crowhead shrugs. “I’ve been collecting them, rescuing them, pulling them from the ruins, and bringing together the remnants of civilization that the humans left behind.”
“You built a library for a REALM that has no people in it?” asks Formerly Melvin.
“They’ll be back someday and besides, I had some time on my hands. You were certainly in no rush to get back here.”
Val rubs his back and frowns. “The cart was heavy, mistress, and the road was mostly uphill.”
“You’re all here now, and that’s all that matters. We are together, and I have prepared a feast inside the library.”
“A metaphorical feast?” the Pooka asks. “A buffet of knowledge? A salad course of picture books? A selection of multimedia desserts?”
“Roast turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie,” says the Crowhead. “And a few bottles of fine red wine to wash it all down.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Glory hops down from the cart and marches toward the front door. “Let’s get thankful!”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
Revision Notes:
To be added.
