The Library of Uqbar contains every book ever written, every book that might have been written, and every book that never would have been written. Although the heretics say the library is infinite, this is not so.
Each book in the library has five hundred pages, each page of each book contains fifty lines, and each line of each page contains eighty letters. Each letter of each line can be any of the twenty-five letters and symbols in the alphabet of Dzib. Every possible book exists in the library. Only the astronomer-priests can reckon rightly the number of books in Uqbar, and they say that it is more than all the grains of sand in the world multiplied by all the stars in the sky.
In Uqbar can be found the best possible biography of you. Do not fear if you are long-lived: although your biography will break off in mid word on the last line of the last page, you need only discover the proper continuation in another volume from Uqbar. In Uqbar can be found both the guide to the best possible moral laws and, in another volume, the most effective refutation of those morals. The lives of the saints, the lists of the names of the stars, the complete history of what transpires throughout the world during the last second of next year. All these books there are, and still many more composed of undifferentiated gibberish.
Not even Dzib knows where each book is to be found. There is a legend that a magic wand of divine origin can be used to locate a desired book from Uqbar, but no story tells how this Library Staff can be obtained.
Hail Dzib, Greater God of Crafts and Knowledge
May the Sun, when it is made, shine on your creations.
Indeed, I note that you, the God of Love
and Beauty, and brash War, gain most from praise
of mortals. Elemental gods need weep
but little if the Earth were nothing but
sea, rock, ice, sky and burning light of Sun...
although, in truth, I know not how
men's paeans fire the heart of Earth or Sea
compared with the dull joy of seeing their
domain on earth extend across the globe
unsung. But the pining god of woods and glens
loves not the axe and plough, and would, if left
unmoved by pleas of the other gods, leave men
but savage wanderers, the spade and loom
as far from untaught minds as stars to fish.
Yet Nature too must joy in smoking fat,
and all his finest works be songs unheard
and our creation seem but dim and dun
if he left mortals cowering in caves
as if Lord Light had failed to shape the Sun.
Likewise must someone teach our sweating folk
to build the towers of a City; but your vassal
Architecture, must scurry to inform
our race's sages how to make the Arch
or suffer ig-nom-iny (and tragic loss
Smoking blood of sacrifice,
the sweet-breathed altar's kiss would then be ours!
Yes, let us join our gifts to bring from clay
a race both furious and crafty, bold and sly.
I think the maniraptora, swift claws
and swifter tongues, may well survive
and spread across the plains like rolling thunder.
Dzib, the Wellspring of Progress Salutes Vadu, Lord of Battles
May the Talons of our Mutual Offspring rend the Flesh of Lesser Mortals
Let it not be said that / Vadu, Lord of Battles
Wields only weapons well / For the Wisdom of Your Words
Displays Your verbal skill / And Mastery of the Pen
The skalds shall surely sing / Of your Victories on Earth
But no less shall they praise / Your Eloquence and Style
Dzib Himself is Awed by / The Message You have sent
And Offers Aid and Friendship / In Making a Mighty Race
The Fusion of our Powers / Raptors Red in Tooth and Claw
Foreheads Filled with Fearsome Facts / Terrible Tool-users
Leaving Three-Toed Tracks / under Tall Towers.
So, you've come to old Ganesh for some stories, eh? Well, sit down around the fire, little ones, and listen close, for these are the tales of the god Merram, and you would do well to remember them. For Merram (and always say his name with respect) can be a caring god, but he can also be an angry one....
There was a time when our world was nothing but hard unyielding rock and fiery lava. Having been cut from Igneous's flesh, it shuddered with his power and his molten blood flowed freely across the land. Our people were hard-pressed to survive then, victims to the whims of the earth. Things lived and grew only through a sacrifice of blood from another, since no other sustenance was available across the harsh land. Then Merram saw our troubles. He saw us bleed to feed others, letting them taste of our flesh, and he felt he could do no less. Biting into his own arm, he let his own blood run freely across the land. That was the first rain, my children. The rains flowed down from the heavens creating the seas and rivers of today, giving unto us the life-giving waters that sustain all life now. But Merram did not stop there. Oh no, he let his ripped flesh fall into the seas where it became the fish and the whales and all life in the seas. Merram graced us, children. Remember. He bled for us to give us life. Remember the next time you eat a fresh catch that it is Merram's flesh you eat and give praise.
So, you see, Merram can be a caring god, a loving god, but he can also be angry as you will soon hear. As the seas are of him, they reflect his moods. As the sea can be calm one day and stormy the next, so can Merram.
You see, children, there were those peoples who did not thank Merram for his sacrifice, saying that it was the doing of another god, or a natural occurance (as if so much water could come from nowhere, humph!). They drank of his blood and ate of his flesh and did not respect him. Merram saw this and grew angry, oh yes, children, he grew angry. The seas raged with his anger, everywhere the waves swelled and the skies grew stormy, as Merram's brother the sky god aided him. It was then that the first monsters came. Yes, dark powerful creatures, born of Merram's flesh and filled with his anger, rose from the seas and layed waste to the disrespectful. Hundreds died, their blood joining with Merram's. You would think that, after that, the others would see their mistake? Alas, no, they did not. They thought that their own gods were angry with them, and prayed to them, paying Merram no heed. Merram's anger was terrible, my children. The seas rose with his power. They flooded the lands of the disrespectful, sending cities crashing down and laying waste across their lands. The rivers were choked with bodies, as their flesh joined with Merram's. Alas, still the disrespectful were blind to their trespasses. As it continues to this day, little ones. It seems that there will always be those blind to see the truth. So, when the seas are choppy and the waves crash like thunder, know that Merram is angry, and know also that somewhere, someone is paying for their disrespect.
So you see, young ones, Merram can be kind but he can be angry. So remember to respect him always. If you do, the seas will be kind to you and give you life.
And the Gods fell unto bickering and our Great Lord was silent. For in Heaven and Earth, he was not interested in squabbling. When one God was struck in heated argument, it is our Lord who would comfort him and offer him solace. He would offer the pure light wine of Heaven and leavened mana to the struck or afflicted. For our God is the God of Love. Not Love physical, but of compassion. Our God is a kind one. For he sayeth,
"Never talk in anger. Never raise thine hand for violence. Do everything for the good of all. For I am a kindly God, and smile upon children who do great deeds in humility. Be not brash or forceful, be like the mists of light, soft, bright, and very constant. For when the tempest convinces not, the gentle zephyr will surely succeed. My way is the way of the meek but strong."
And thus spoke the Lord.
"Be not fooled by miracles. For the words of Heaven come often in a great clamour. Remember I am the Quiet Faith, which will not be shaken. Tolerate thine brothers who believe in others, for others there may be. But all life, including the Gods themselves, shine under my stars and sun. For my heart shines for all, and the Fiery Crown burns bright with terrible fury. So know, that of all Gods I am the quiet One who speaks of Good. Whose compacts remain unbroken, who lived through the Second Passing and cast light into the firmament. Know that for thee there is only One and heed not railings of other faiths. And shine thy words upon them in hopes that one day, too, they may worship the Light."
Though Moloch had attained a degree of acceptance among the gods, by the beginning of the first Age he was still despised and mocked by many. Only Lord Ravathorn, Vadu Lord of Battles, and his brothers and sisters took him seriously at all.
And Moloch was lonely. He might have sought to marry one of the warlike daughters of Vadu, but the path of his heart followed a more difficult way. He fell in love with the beautiful Pele, Goddess of Volcanoes, daughter of Igneous and Dion. Over the course of an age he wooed her and tried to prove his devotion. He sacrificed much to be with her and devoted his whole self to wed her.
At first, she would not notice him; so he created a race of mortals to whisper his name into the mouth of the Volcano.
To Moloch's own monstrous children, he said, "Wait."
When Dion demanded a ring for the ceremony, he bade Tools forge him one and gave it to his bride.
Again to his own unborn monsters he said, "Wait a little more."
When Igneous forbade the marriage without his presence, Moloch waited, again delaying the gift of life to his own monstrous brood.
At last, as the Sun set on an age of the gods, Moloch and Pele were wed, but the children of Moloch's soul perished unborn, never to howl at the clouded moon, never to drink the sea's salts, never to taste the sweetness of existence.
He had gained the alliance and union he sought, but had forfeited the portion which would make him whole.