The Isolationist is as much a place as it is a being; its immense corpse sits in a lightless realm of space somewhere "under" everything, "catching" information as it falls away. Not even ideas wish to die, so once knowledge is utterly forgotten, it is pulled into the orbit of the Isolationist and eventually pulled completely inside. It's body is a graveyard of forgotten concepts and ideas. Anyone mentally projecting themselves inside of the empty mental plane of the Isolationist finds a massive, warped archive where all the collected information has been carefully sorted by third parties. Mages and scholars of all species, and even Great Ones, have all had a hand/manipulative appendage in taking advantage of the dead mindscape of the Isolationist, creating a library for the lost information and using the strange gravity of the Old One to trap living and dead ideas for study. There is a tense sort of civility in this mindscape. Even the most alien of its inhabitants are rendered in ways safe for the other seekers of knowledge to perceive; each being inside is 'filtered' not only by its own self-perception, but by the infovorous nature of the archive removing unneeded details from their mental projection. They are reduced to extremely simplified caricatures of themselves, allowing those with more fragile senses to safely view and, in some (but not all) cases, communicate with one another. Since the majority of them enter the archive to pursue knowledge, interactions are usually brief and uneventful if they occur at all, with the only conflicts arising when multiple beings seek the same knowledge. Once it is possessed by one person, it is no longer forgotten, and thus cannot be "returned" to the archive until it's "current user" forgets it. Especially selfish beings have, in the past, chosen not to share what they've learned, taking their stolen secrets to the grave and beyond it in some cases. The biggest danger in the archives, though, is the Isolationist itself. Dubbed "the Librarian," the collapsed remnants of the Isolationists final concious thoughts slowly drift through the archive like a mobile event horizon, usually harmlessly bobbing about... Until someone makes too much 'noise.' What the Librarian decides is 'noise' is not fully understood, as it's equally likely to respond to a loud quarrel between two seekers as it is to close in on someone who's simply thinking too loud. In some cases, it doesn't respond at all, no matter how 'loud' a disturbance gets. Near as anyone can tell, the Librarian views the entirety of the archive as a singular being--itself--and anything acting contrary to that must be... Well. It must become part of the archive. Those caught by the Librarian meet hideous fates, spun into lines of frayed thoughts and ideas as everything they were, are, and will be are scattered across the archive before the living memory stitches them back together as their own autobiography, filling in all the details of their lives by physically prying the information from their minds... And the minds of everyone and everything that knew them. The archive is a home for forgotten information, and everything in it must be forgotten, scoured from every history book and every mind in existence.









