[Philip Memorial Library]

"I see..." the Librarian replies thoughtfully. "Would you be adverse to me viewing the experience? Some find such invasions of privacy to be violating and I feel it is best if this library seem a safe place to its visitors."

Y'know.

Ignoring the sanity blasting books.

And the eldritch rifts to unspeakable places.

And the dimensional shambler that harasses readers.

Totally safe.

[Outside the Rift]

This is really, really weird.

Gerra the griffon had first picked up the anomaly from quite some distance away. Or more properly one of his scouting drones had shortly before it transformed into a pigeon with a camera strapped to its head. Whatever this thing is it is putting off a MASSIVE thaumatic of a sort wholly unlike anything else the griffon has encountered thus far in his short visit to the Nexus.

And he's already run into some really strange stuff.

As he watches the rift from a perch on top of a roof nearby he can't help but consider the spectacle before him. It's quite stunning to be honest. An interesting subject of study. Warrior or no nearly all griffons are scholars at heart and Gerra is no exception. While he's loath to leave it behind he has removed and compacted his armor for safe keeping outside the rift.

Considering how it reacted to the drone Gerra has the feeling that whatever forces are at work here aren't at all kind to the elegant arts of mathematics, geometry, and astrology used to motivate his technology.

That means heading in with only the natural gifts Anu had given him along with the drone that's already a bird to record what they find. And to be fair the griffon isn't at all shabby. He's roughly the size of a liger, massive and lean and honed into a deadly weapon in his own right. Feathers are a dusky grey and fur of a slightly browner hue. Talons and beak as black as the night sky. Wide yellow eyes that speak of untold cunning. A pair of feathered ears sport his head and a wide fan of plumes the end of his tail.

He wears no clothing, of course. Aside from the occasional jewelry griffons don't normally adorn themselves like some frail unicorn might.

"Whether this maelstrom of mischief is one of your works or not, Enki, I do not know. But preserve me through it none the less," the griffon mutters as he leaps off the edge of the roof and begins flying toward the edge of the Rift.