The Planasthai is a weekly news magazine that has circulated in at least ten different formats under dozens of different names and has won scores of accolades. The hundreds of editors that guided the publications to billions of ocular receptors took great pride in the job of honest thorough reporting. Readers clung to its wisdom and enjoyed its vaguely melony scent. The publication performed numerous inventive duties not envisioned by the editorial staff (ex: birdcage lining). Planasthai's motto "Sunlight clears the rot" has adorned everything from t-shirts to treaties, always with love and reverence. However, the once sterling reputation of Planasthai has been tarnished in recent years due to poor oversight, unsavory editorial decisions and losses of ad revenue.

Under New Management!

The relationship between the Library and the Serpent's Hand is one riddled with misconceptions and misinformation. The Library is not the exclusive domain of the Hand, nor do they control it in any way. The Serpent's Hand are just one of the multitudes of organizations dedicated to scholarly pursuits and freedom of knowledge that choose to call the Library home. That said, the Serpent's Hand are unique among these groups for their history with the Library; the original Hand of the Serpent was a school of warrior-monks living in the Shelves, dedicated to the defense of knowledge. Their exact fate is unknown, but it is generally accepted that sometime in the 20th century, several young thaumaturges from Earth accidentally opened a Way and discovered the Library, along with the ruins of the Hand's temple. They adopted the moniker and idealogy, becoming a militant force in the fight for liberty of the anomalous and rapidly expanding in size, ranks bolstered by young idealists and revolutionaries.

The modern Serpent's Hand is a decentralized movement — it operates in discrete cells, with the only governing structure being L.S, an individual of unclear origins and description who is recognized by all cells of any influence to be the closest thing to a de facto leader of the group. There are no requirements for forming a cell or becoming a member of the Hand; anyone who wishes to join need only consider themself a member, and that is enough. A new member who utters the Serpent's Creed in the Library can expect a quick welcoming visit from L.S to show them the ropes; how they know when this occurs is unknown.

Further information about the Serpent's Hand is available here.

The Neverwere

There are things that are older, more dangerous, and more terrible than anything that exists, and those are things that never did exist, and never will exist, and don't exist. But they want to. We call these beings the Neverwere. They drift in the hidden corners of places, always just out of sight, "made up remnants of forgotten stories, lost epics, and abandoned dreams."

In the ancient times, the Ways were bright and clear as far as you could see, with fruit trees offering a bounty to travelers in exchange for legends of their worlds. However, as more and more people dreamed and lost, told stories that were forgotten, and died without ever knowing themselves, the Ways grew darker and darker, and then, it is claimed, the Neverwere appeared. Others claim that the Neverwere are merely the souls of those who honored dead gods, searching for a chance to call upon another for salvation, while others still say they are merely figments of the imagination given elementary form and body by the Ways.

At any rate, travelers of the Ways began to vanish, and beings started to appear that should not have existed. A fully realized Neverwere has not been seen in millennia, though, as they also prey on each other. One achieving existence is normally devoured by its kin almost instantly.

The Daeva

It is suspected that at some point, the Daeva were wanderers themselves, the cast-off leavings of another world that had died on some catastrophe or another, and that some of them reached the Library at its founding, as the Tale of Cornerstone confirms. However, at some point, they left the realities forever, leaving behind a book. Unfortunately, this is not something that can be easily or simply verified, due to the very nature of the Daeva themselves.

The Daeva occupy a text which is continually in the process of writing itself. As it continues, references to it appear in other volumes, though they do not appear in the memories of those old enough to remember the events themselves. What is truly confounding is that the evidence of the Daeva appears to be writing itself into history as the volume continues to be written. Therefore, while texts mention them as wanderers from another world, there is no way to be certain.

What is certainly known is that the Daeva have a vendetta against the Library for reasons unknown, though it has been theorized that something about the magic of the place possibly threw them into their current condition. Various texts have appeared, seemingly at random, telling of wars the Daeva fought against the Library and its denizens, though no record of such a war existed before. Most worrisome is the possibility that these events will suddenly come into existence should the original text become complete.

Everyone knows Cousin Dan. He's a big, burly, friendly giant, a distant cousin from your mother's — or was it your father's? — side. He's as American as apple pie and a simple country boy at heart. But, as with every country boy, he's developed a reputation, and sometimes, stories can be larger than life.