On any given day the Librarian is kept busy trying to keep any open doors he finds shut, chasing various goblins and bookworms away from eating/tearing out the pages of/scribbling on the books. He has to sleep once in a while, never as often as he'd like, but once he woke up from a nap to find three gobllins engaged in a snowball fight with balled
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Stench doesn't like being tied up in the bottom of the teakettle.
So it is that the goblin cook's approach is generally heralded by a series of indignant, if muffled, squeaks, squelches, and pings.
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He's already at the table, having given up on keeping all the doors shut or possibly just taking a much needed rest from spending days trying to barricade himself in. He glances up from his work and watches her approach over the rims of his glasses. "Any news? He's done it, hasn't he? He's gone and bloody done it..." His voice is deep and rumbly, but quiet.
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