He just loved books. He always had. They were his passion. His life.
He could remember the first book his parents had given him. A huge collection of Menchen (fairy tales). It was bound in a dark burgundy leather, with gold-embossed ridges of the spine. And the insides were full of wondrous illustrations. Fairies and goblins and fell monsters galore.
He still had that book of Menchen. He had all the books he had ever been given or had bought. Lovingly organized and shelved upon tall, dark wood bookcases scattered all over his house. He would never give up a book. Never. Not on his life.
His love for books grew and grew. It was natural that at university he study history & languages. All those tomes full of words & pictures. Those gorgeous books, bound in leather and cloth. He got to the point where he did not care what the books actually said, he just loved the look and feel of books. And the smell... But the best of all was the satisfaction of ownership when he added a book to his collection.
Some friends of his at university had become investigators of sorts. They had learned of a certain dark cult who prayed to dark gods inimical to mankind. In the course of their investigations, they stumbled across an ancient grimoire. They brought it to him to translate. When he saw that book, his soul became inflamed.
The book was bound in a leather he could not identify at first. It was human skin. He was seized with a lust for that book beyond any lust he had ever felt before. He had to wholly possess that book, but he knew his friends would demand the return of the book.
However, his friends never returned to claim the book. Misfortune took them in the night and left only pieces of them behind. He took this a sign that his passion was condoned by higher powers. He began to seek out more books like the grimoire.
He did not want the books for the secret lore or spells they contained. He never really read the books. He would carefully handle the books, but reading might damage the books, so he did not. He wanted the books, because he could then own them. Possess them. Caress them. And shelve them away.
He sought out other investigators of the unknown. He befriended them and wooed them with his knowledge and vast mundane library. They brought him these forbidden book for him to translate and comment on. He then engineered their demise, often by carefully sent messages to the very dark cults from which they had liberated the books.
His collection grew. His secret collection. His lovely books. Tomes not only bound in leather, but in skins: human, exotic animals and skins of unknown species. Tomes with jewels incrusted upon them, or covered in barnacles, or blackened from fires. Books printed upon paper, painted upon vellum, or etched in iridescent metals. Scrolls and papyrus leaves and wax tablets. He collected them all and lovingly placed them on shelves hidden from sight. His, all his.
But he is always looking to increase his collection...
Possibilities
1 You have heard of a reclusive scholar who has a collection of books with just the exact tome you need. You go and talk to him, but he will not even let you touch the book. To stop the evil cultists, you must have that book. So, you sneak back and steal the book. You remove a book from his collection. He pursues with a vengeance, possibly alerting the cultists about your plans.
2 In a small, hidden bookstore you purchase the first edition of a rare volume. The owner sells it to you, but mentions that another gentleman had called about the book. He did not have the funds but mentioned he would be back. The owner just wants to sell the book and you have cash in hand. You don’t give it any more thought until you hear about the bookseller’s murder. The bibliophile punished the book dealer and he is after you now. You took “his” book and he is coming to reclaim it.
3 During a raid on a cultists’ stronghold, you run across some disturbing letters. An anonymous source is telling the cult about activities, names & addresses of investigators. Investigators whom you knew and who have just been murdered. Someone is informing on your friends and getting them killed. There is an informant somewhere, you just need to identify who it is. You start questioning the murdered investigators’ associates for the culprit. Eventually you will come across the innocent-seeming bibliophile.
© Brent Heustess
He could remember the first book his parents had given him. A huge collection of Menchen (fairy tales). It was bound in a dark burgundy leather, with gold-embossed ridges of the spine. And the insides were full of wondrous illustrations. Fairies and goblins and fell monsters galore.
He still had that book of Menchen. He had all the books he had ever been given or had bought. Lovingly organized and shelved upon tall, dark wood bookcases scattered all over his house. He would never give up a book. Never. Not on his life.
His love for books grew and grew. It was natural that at university he study history & languages. All those tomes full of words & pictures. Those gorgeous books, bound in leather and cloth. He got to the point where he did not care what the books actually said, he just loved the look and feel of books. And the smell... But the best of all was the satisfaction of ownership when he added a book to his collection.
Some friends of his at university had become investigators of sorts. They had learned of a certain dark cult who prayed to dark gods inimical to mankind. In the course of their investigations, they stumbled across an ancient grimoire. They brought it to him to translate. When he saw that book, his soul became inflamed.
The book was bound in a leather he could not identify at first. It was human skin. He was seized with a lust for that book beyond any lust he had ever felt before. He had to wholly possess that book, but he knew his friends would demand the return of the book.
However, his friends never returned to claim the book. Misfortune took them in the night and left only pieces of them behind. He took this a sign that his passion was condoned by higher powers. He began to seek out more books like the grimoire.
He did not want the books for the secret lore or spells they contained. He never really read the books. He would carefully handle the books, but reading might damage the books, so he did not. He wanted the books, because he could then own them. Possess them. Caress them. And shelve them away.
He sought out other investigators of the unknown. He befriended them and wooed them with his knowledge and vast mundane library. They brought him these forbidden book for him to translate and comment on. He then engineered their demise, often by carefully sent messages to the very dark cults from which they had liberated the books.
His collection grew. His secret collection. His lovely books. Tomes not only bound in leather, but in skins: human, exotic animals and skins of unknown species. Tomes with jewels incrusted upon them, or covered in barnacles, or blackened from fires. Books printed upon paper, painted upon vellum, or etched in iridescent metals. Scrolls and papyrus leaves and wax tablets. He collected them all and lovingly placed them on shelves hidden from sight. His, all his.
But he is always looking to increase his collection...
Possibilities
1 You have heard of a reclusive scholar who has a collection of books with just the exact tome you need. You go and talk to him, but he will not even let you touch the book. To stop the evil cultists, you must have that book. So, you sneak back and steal the book. You remove a book from his collection. He pursues with a vengeance, possibly alerting the cultists about your plans.
2 In a small, hidden bookstore you purchase the first edition of a rare volume. The owner sells it to you, but mentions that another gentleman had called about the book. He did not have the funds but mentioned he would be back. The owner just wants to sell the book and you have cash in hand. You don’t give it any more thought until you hear about the bookseller’s murder. The bibliophile punished the book dealer and he is after you now. You took “his” book and he is coming to reclaim it.
3 During a raid on a cultists’ stronghold, you run across some disturbing letters. An anonymous source is telling the cult about activities, names & addresses of investigators. Investigators whom you knew and who have just been murdered. Someone is informing on your friends and getting them killed. There is an informant somewhere, you just need to identify who it is. You start questioning the murdered investigators’ associates for the culprit. Eventually you will come across the innocent-seeming bibliophile.
© Brent Heustess
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