TheArchivist

You've been exploring this clan's lair for a while now, going deeper and deeper into the mountain. The sunlight has long-since been replaced by the thin, flickering yellow light of oil lamps, and you can no longer smell the fresh, rain-scented breeze.

As you walk further still, you come across a doorless room with a bright light spilling out of it, a stark contrast to the dimly lit hallway. Curious, you peek your head into it.

Within is a cavern filled to the brim with scrolls. Some are tucked away into nooks and crannies dug into the cave wall, while others are stacks on shelves and on top of desks. A hole is dug into the ceiling, and if you squint, you can make out a thick sheet of lightly tinted glass. The room is stained colors from the glass - you can see light pearly blues, faded oranges, pastel pinks, banana yellows, and more. This, you can tell, is the source of the bright light. Oil lamps are scattered around the room, and though they are unlit, you can guess that they'll come into use when night falls.

Zipping around the room is a streak of grey, purple and yellow, flitting to and fro, stopping for only moments to pick out certain scrolls.

The streak seems to take notice of you and all movement halts, revealing a wide-eyed spiral.

"Hello," he says, his even voice a stark contrast to how he'd been careening through the cave just moments before.

"Hi," you say to be polite. "What is this place?"

"This," he says proudly, "is the archive, and I am the Archivist!"

He preens for a moment, then asks, "would you like to see some of what I do?"

Not wanting to seem rude, you oblige, and are shown several long, extensive lists. Intrigued, you read them.