Someone once said that "that which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil". Upon my browsing of untold tales and naughty little secrets in this place, I have found a plethora of examples of this. I've found one such story here in a tale I think I'll call -
T H E   H E A R T   O F   L O V I A T A R
Kip Samil stands in a sanctuary filled with censer smoke in the Triad Temple of Fillia Lucis. He stands before the sigils of three lawful deities. Today, he shall choose who to give his devotion to.
A broken white gauntlet symbolizing Torm the True - the heroic god of law and courage.
A piece of red rope wreathed in amaranth symbolizing Ilmater - the broken god of suffering and endurance.
And finally a shard from a broken mirror symbolizing Loviatar - the evil goddess of pain and torture.
The objects laid before him on an altar. Kip's guardian angel watches over him from the plane adjacent. Today was just as important to her as it was for him. Howev

For my next tale, let us dive into the realm of the unknown in a tale I like to call -
T H E   B L A C K   M I L K
Situated beyond the boundaries of the mortal worlds, beyond the parallels of Shadow and Faerie, the toiling elemental realms and fantastic outer dimensions, past the infinite recesses of the Astral and Ethereal planes is the edge of all reality. At its border are gates of horn and ivory, beyond which is the unreality of dreams. There is a realm beyond even that. A far realm of eldritch horrors; the ancestral origin of all aberrations and home to outer gods and great old ones. Next to nothing is known about this alien realm, except that knowledge from and of it alone is enough to drive anyone to madness. Some say the aberrations who came to our cosmos – aboleths, mindflayers, beholders – did so as refugees in fear of their native realm. But there was one who dared step out into the unknown in search of forbidden knowledge.
Their name was Lulhu.

Encased in crystalline facets is a labyrinthine library – a place forged and formed in the ethereal erebus. You see, there are secrets that souls take to their grave. Some stories are forgotten by mortal memory. Some stories are obfuscated into mysteries by those who wish to conceal the truth. This is the graveyard that those secrets go – the Phantom Library.
My name is Kaidan, and I am your host for this evening. I am not the librarian of this phantasmal collection of akashic tomes, but merely a humble maven – a savant if you will. A connoisseur of weird and fantastic tales. Pardon my run-on sentences, but for ages I’ve been doing nothing but reading and evading the sinister caretakers of these spectral corridors. I dare say this maven may have gone a little mad.
Let us arm ourselves then with the resources available. Put these books to some practical use! Tonight, allow this tiefling bard to recount to you the legend of the hero of books, a librarian of the Se