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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 3422031" data-attributes="member: 11760">There's a musty smell to the library when the Kunstlerhaus residents open the door and file in. In a damp city like Ptolus, keeping a large collection of books means a never-ending battle against mildew, as the apprentices know all too well -- killing mildew with cantrips is one of their basic duties.A bell formed from an ancient pitted and rusted helmet rings when the door opens. A glance at it shows that the previous owner's life was ended by what appears to have been an axe blow to the face.The group waits behind a long wooden counter as shuffling footsteps approach from beyond the rows of bookcases. The cases are stuffed with scrolls, folded bits of paper and bound books. A thin, bespectacled, human male in his late 50s with a shock of white hair and advanced male pattern baldness emerges from between the shelves, cleaning his glasses with the tail of his shirt."Yes? May I help you?"</blockquote>