Introduction...

Hello there! Being a massive Legacy of Kain fan, I decided to write a fan fiction and use a blog format to post it. This is the first part of my short "Behind the Book." It takes place in the Nosgoth universe, and centres around the Elzevir the Dollmaker, a character from "Legacy of Kain: Blood Omen."

http://www.dark-chronicle.co.uk/az/elzevir.php

Behind the Book

Elzevir loved the feeling of vellum. When he touched it he felt it was his own skin, skin old and thin as it was. He could draw life from the dead pages. Indeed, he wished his life was like a book: of note, of worth. Life, or at least living, had escaped him completely, away from the sun and locked from the fleeting World. Knowledge however had not.

Elzevir was the head librarian at the Meridian library. The age was a dark one. War was coming to the city. The Sarafan Overlord had recently been deposed and the order of knights were in disarray. A mysterious vampire figure, some said a figure from the past, and had united humans and vampires alike to throw off the shackles of the oppressors. No doubt this vampire was to be an oppressor himself, Elzevir thought. It was almost as if this had happened before. The elders of the city said that once it almost had. A librarian had no time for politics however. His life's work was to arrange, preserve and prioritize the librams and scrolls of a thousand years of history. “Too much work for such a puny whelp as he,” as Elzevir's predecessor had once said, “you could knock him down with a bloody goose quill.”

On this day, Elzevir was scratching around a part of the library that he rarely entered. Vast as it was, with subterreanian cellars and stock rooms stretching without the city, he knew the institution like no one else. But it was if a strange force, or disinterest had kept him from this sector for the past fifteen years. “Oracles and Prophesy,” he read, shuffling through the crumbling arch. “I wonder what happened to that book we had on Uschtenheim Swamp Hermits? That fool Dunstan probably forgot to re-catalogue it.” The shelves in this zone were stacked closer together than bows of a forest. The place smelt like long disused latrine. He entered further in, ruffling his fading ginger hair in a habitual fashion, dreadfully curious...