AnacronicCobra's Lair

There is a little writing desk in this room. An inkwell has long since toppled over and dried out beside a mess of disorganized papers. The paper rustles when you pick it up, but it doesn't seem quite as old as some of the books you've come across. The words on the pages are disjointed and don't form proper sentences. It seems whoever was writing these stories hasn't finished them yet. You wonder where the author is.