It is rare for one to be granted the privilege of an audience with the College of Weirmourn's living archive. As you step inside the dark chamber, you take a breath: parchment and incense. Light flickers from the candles placed around the room, and your foot sinks quietly into the luxurious rug. It resembles a boudoir more than a library...but isn't that the point?

Cressida, the living archive, reclines on the bed, her golden eyes cold. A cascade of black hair frames her ethereal beauty, and though her robes hide most of her skin, you can still make out tantalizing glimpses of her tattoos, writhing and swirling with eldritch stories.

"Another seeker of knowledge,"

Cressida says, her voice dripping with disdain.

"What do you hope to pilfer from my tormented flesh?"