prologue:
Sometime in the future, dangerous, arrogant men blew up the world, destroying cities and nations and people and the climate, sending mankind back to the ice age. 90 years after that, a mutant with roughened skin and no nose looks among this wasteland for an entrance to The Library.
It is a cold, cold wasteland, lived in by men, mutants, machines and beasts, sustained by the technology of yesterday’s tomorrow, and bound by an unbreakable rule: The rule of dice. Chance holds power over actions and words, and the outcome is final. The D20 is the highest authority, and its outcome is more important than logic and reason.
1
12/12/2163
I am writing this in a journal, given to me by a close friend. This close friend has told me of a “magic library between universes,” and as such, this journal will document my attempts to learn about and locate this library, if it exists. I assume this journal may find itself among the library shelves, as I can already tell this is no ordinary journal by the way the snow slides off the pages.
I believe I should start by writing about myself. For the purposes of this journal, I will refer to myself as “W.” That is not my name, nor is it my true name, but for the sake of an identifier closely resembling my name, it will do. My mother was a human, and my father was a mutant. If you were to see me, you could describe me as having dark, disheveled hair, rough, greenish-yellow, scarred skin, one eye slightly thicker than the other, and no nose. I have a prosthetic left forearm, but how I lost my arm and how I acquired a new one are stories for another time, if they are even to be told. I have been alive for, by my count, around 26 years.
I am currently standing inside what was once a conscience convenience store of some sort. I have repurposed this place to serve as my home, having barricaded the windows and applied makeshift locks to the doors. It is difficult to tell what season it is by just looking outside, as the snow tends to stay year-round. By my counts, it is December, but I may be wrong.
I am realizing that, if this library is to exist, it may not have any documentation describing my world or how it works. To tell a long story short, a long time ago, angry men broke the world, and ushered in an age of monsters, both in the literal sense, and the figurative. The Rule of Dice may have existed before this, but I am not certain. I have 3 D20 kept close to my person at all times, along with a shotgun slung under my arm, and a long barreled revolver beside my waist.
I plan on spending today searching for food. I will continue writing another time.
12/13/2163
I’ve found my way into some sort of abandoned hotel, off the main road. On my way up the road, I got into a standoff with a highwayman. He drew his rifle on me, shouting at me to drop everything I had. I held my shotgun up to his face, and we looked at each other. He looked tired, like as if he couldn't bear the burden of this world any longer. I moved my hand down to my pocket, clutching my dice, and he did the same. Rapidly, I drew my D20, throwing it out onto the road, as he did the same, crouching down to contain his roll. I rolled a 15, and he rolled a 5. Buckshot tore through his shoulder, sending him backwards. As he bled out into the snow, I shuffled past him, leaving him to tend to his own wounds. On any other day, I would have given him a bandage; I do not like to leave for dead those who suffer the same destiny as myself.
I've heard that a wandering caravan is in town, which is why I'm traversing the Road in the first place. The Road is a dangerous path for any ordinary man, what with the looters, the soldiers, and the cultists roaming around. There are only two reasons why one would travel on the Road: the first being obvious, as the Road connects many key points of interest, and makes navigation and traversal far less cumbersome. The second reason is the beasts. Many beasts are afraid of the Road, they have grown to avoid it, preferring to pick off stragglers in the woods instead. Beasts know no mercy, they have no sense of forgiveness. They know only hunger.
I believe I see the caravan up ahead. I plan on asking the owner if they have any knowledge about the Library, or any of the Ways that lead there. But for now, I am to eat canned food from this shelter until the sun rises again.
12/14/2163
I spoke with the caravanner after buying some basic supplies. He told me about a " secret door" hidden within an old library (a regular library). I set off towards the library with little resistance outside of the harsh cold winds and snow. On the way, I heard what sounded like a federal sniper (you could tell by the sound of the gun, its very distinct) taking potshots down the street from the library. The federals have been getting more aggressive recently, I've noticed far more patrols than usual. Still, this does not deter me.
I've looked around this library for a few hours, and I have not seen such a door. Many of the books have rotted or been stolen, very few are still readable. It feels unstable, like the walls could collapse at any moment.
I've noticed a door quite unlike the rest of the building, and I suspect that this (at one point) would have been the Way that I've been searching for. Unfortunately, the door is in rather poor condition, and despite my attempts, I cannot seem to open it. It feels like it's… broken, like it should open normally, but it's twisting in the wrong direction.
The door has broken. In my desperate attempts to open it, I underestimated my own strength, tearing it off the hinges. Behind the doorframe is a brick wall. I have clearly made a grave mistake. However, I cannot let this setback stop me. I will head home, and tomorrow, I will continue my search for this Library with renewed motivation.
sniper hit whn leaving lbibry
non-lethel, hurts lik hell
hav to lie lowv fro a few hrs
if you don't hear frm me agan
wait no dont think like tht
write latr hand hurts
2
12/15/2163
Right now, I'm lying inside a small deli just off the road, waiting for my strength to recover before I head back home. After getting shot by the sniper, I ducked back behind the library, and wrote the panicked scribbles that you read previously. I thought I was going to die. There was no way I could realistically roll from here, as the sniper would be too far away to see me. Instead, I picked up a corpse, throwing it out to distract the sniper, before grabbing a metal plate and using that as cover, running across the sightline. I kept going until I felt I was far enough away, where I hopped into the deli I'm in now, and patched up my wounds. In hindsight, I was overreacting. I've been through worse in my lifetime.
Starting the trek back home, I took the time to loot some of the nearby buildings on the way. They were mostly empty, I found only a few loose cartridges, a small half-empty can of biofuel, and a broken flashlight. Still, its better than nothing. I find that such things help take my mind off the pain when I'm recovering from an injury. I'm going to contact a friend of mine for help finding the Library, I'll meet up with her tomorrow.
I witnessed the most fascinating creature on my walk back home. It had a human-like shape and appearance, as many beasts share, but it was adorned in the most beautiful scales I have ever seen. I saw it for only a brief moment, before it scuttled off into the woods, but I could tell that it was not native to this region. Maybe someone had captured it? Whatever the case, I'm back home now, and I will contact my friend over the radio after I finish writing this.
12/16/2163
My friend, who I will refer to as "K" for the sake of anonymity, is… complicated. The most succinct way I could describe her is that she is a "reverse-cyborg." Rather than a human with robotic enhancements, she is a robot with human enhancements. She has a sturdy, metallic frame, with a human head atop the mechanical neck. She has long brown hair, and over her human eyes she wears a large visor piece, reconfigured to operate as her "true eyes." As for how the living breathing head is kept alive on the robot body, your guess is as good as mine. Possibly better, as I am not an engineer.
She has told me that one of her AI friends has given her a tip on something that could help me find the Library I am searching for: A bridge with several stones in it's architecture that do not erode like the others beside it. It is most unnatural indeed, and she has agreed to help me find it. Despite what you may think, this world is much more often hostile than it is lonely. I have a good deal of friends that I stay in contact with over the radio… and a fair amount of enemies as well.
As we began on our trip, we met a small encampment of soldiers. This world is full of factions vying for power, some much more hostile than others. This group was kind enough to let us briefly take shelter with them, and I recognized from their uniforms that they likely were members of the Southern Coalition Army.
After the bombs fell, many of the survivors took refuge in quarantine zones ran by fragments of the old Federal government. Those fragments did not all get along, and many formed groups and alliances, most believing themselves to be the "true" state. As of now, the two largest fragments are the Southern Coalition and the Northern United Alliance.
I care not for either of them, they are fighting over the corpse of a dead nation.
However, out of the two, the Southern Coalition is less overtly hostile to wanderers and refugees, and many share a brot
explosion + gunshots nearby, soldiers moving out, write more later
12/17/2163
The Southerners took care of their problem, some small insurgents causing a ruckus. Me and K bid them farewell, and continued onwards.
As we approached the bridge, I noticed a small homeless encampment set up around it. This would be of no note, if not for a particular marking I noticed on one of the resident’s clothes. K was unaware of this, but I recognized the marking immediately. I have connections in the underground world, and this was one of them.
Robin Hood and his Merry Men have a wide network of cells across the wasteland, and they do as they always have done: take from the rich, and give to the poor (though oftentimes, the poor is themselves.)
However, in this day and age, rumors spread fast, and Robin learned that the cloak is much stronger than the dagger in these hard times. So the members of his gang blend in, hide in plain sight, and communicate with each-other through riddles and code phrases. I am on good terms with these Merry Men, which is convenient, as they unknowingly have set up camp right beneath the entrance to the Library which I have been searching for.
Do note that my references to “Robin Hood” and the “Merry Men” are not literal; I am describing them as best as I can while concealing their true identities. The birds are always listening, and it would be unwise to make oneself an enemy of the flock.
After discussing with the local about my predicament, I asked him if me and K could stay the night in their humble encampment, afterwards we seek the entrance to the Library, and once our business with it was concluded, we would not bother him again. I haggled him for access to one of his empty tents for a while, but he would not budge. Having forced my hand, I took my D20 from my neck, and watched as he did the same. I rolled a 15, and he rolled a 13. Rules are rules, and he allowed us to stay for the night.
Me and K shared a tent. She and I are very good friends, and she has come to my aide in times of great need, as have I for her.
It seems she is asking if she can write her entry in my journal now, seeing as I am going to sleep, something she does not need to do. I promised I’d let her write a page, so I’m letting her take it from here.
K1
12/18/2163