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Enchanted Trinkets Complete--a hardcover book containing over 500 magic items for your D&D games!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="wedgeski" data-source="post: 1968336" data-attributes="member: 16212">26. Public Records Office. This labyrinthine Victorian structure shows every one of the 150 years of entropy it has suffered. It has a bland and uninviting facade, leaning drunkenly over the corner of the high street. Small flakes of paint and dilapidated render occasionally rain down onto the pavement below. All of the front-facing windows are perpetually shuttered, but a pair of massive, featureless wooden doors stand open a crack - just a crack - during office hours, leaking shadows onto the pavement.    Upon entering this dusty place you are immediately confused by the multiple changes of direction needed to even find the reception. Square patches on the wall which are a paler shade of grey than the rest of the plaster may have once born signs to help newcomers find their way, but no more. 72 year-old Margaret Lempetter may or may not be waiting for you behind the frosted glass, and if you're very lucky she'll give you exactly half of the directions you need to find the office or store-room you're looking for before you get lost in the maze of corridors.    The employees seem to wander in a perpetual trance, always carrying the same beige document folders, always going between the same two points. They are as grey as the flaking paint on the walls, and there is no banter or greeting when they cross paths. Bookshelves line the walls, their contents caked in dust. Perhaps one book or box per shelf exhibits trails in the dust which show signs of recent use. Small waiting rooms, strewn about the building, offer ripped leather couches to sit on. They look about as old as the receptionist.    The offices are all huge and vastly oversized for the one or two people that work in them, with windows that never look on anything more picturesque than a brick wall two feet outside or the filthy roof of a neighbouring building. Old computers sit on massive desks, calendars that always seem to show the wrong month are nailed to the wall. The person helping you doesn't introduce herself. Your questions are greeted with an unconvincing attempt to find the information you're looking for on the computer, followed by a half-hour wait as she ventures alone into the wilderness of corridors with only a pen to defend herself.    You leave convinced that you got what you needed and glad to be out of the place, but the information you get is never complete, and you know you'll have to go back in there. Perhaps somewhere under those six floors of thin, scratchy carpet, beyond the oversized offices and the glassy-eyed employees, there is a vast basement with walls built of paper and cardboard. Perhaps there, if you can defend yourself against whatever sightless beasts make it their home, and if you don't lose your way, you'll find what you need...</blockquote>

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