Hanging secluded in one of the crannies of the Crookback Emporium the worn yellowing sign reads "The Poison Pen". Plastered awry, slightly below it, another cheerfully proclaims "Under new management!" Whatever brought you here, be it curiosity or cryptic directions, the sharp odor of fresh inks and the scent of biblichor is unmissable. Stepping inside the bookshop and printing press, the sounds of the Emporium seem to pour away at the door.
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The Library
About the walls was a veritable fortress of knowledge; the shelves hoarding texts of all sorts. Many were seemingly mundane. Others however, carefully tucked away or concealed, were very much not so. Whatever system of classification these shelves had, it was either incomprehensible or entirely non-existent. The only way to find such texts was to studiously browse the shelves, or to speak to one of the library's keepers who were always looking to purchase or sell.
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The Press
Towards the aft of the store, loomed the ungodly contraption. Composed of clockwork, pneumatics and magitech it was the maddening result of several disparate engineers. To make sense of the cogs or piping was a daunting task. For most of the day the great behemoth slumbered; what could almost be mistaken for a wheeze emanating deep in the piping. Beside it was a stack of papers, parchments and inks that could be the envy of any document maker.
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TLDR
What: A printing press and esoteric bookshop
Where: Dark Emporium 10, to the right of The Red Crypt
Who: Anyone is welcome to come shop (even those who don't frequent Crookback). Message Shrub if you're interested in staffing.
Why: You need only hope that our true purpose is never revealed.
