Mr. Oglo-Dytes, librarian of the Asylum

One of the most talented inhabitants of Imaginasylum. A true gift.

Nolland Waste bot scout

Nolland Waste prowler

Nolland Waste

Nolland Waste was always a strange place. Constantly changing, unsteady, illusive, ghostly unreal.
Hardly one can remember how Imaginasylum was trapped by the Waste but since then a part of the Mansion, its left wing, always remained in shadow being dissolved in sticky fog.
One could see amazing things if looking out through windows in left part of the House. At the same time out of one window one could see shiny day, next window revealed stormy night and misty morning was squeezing through the other one.
And, of course, Nolland Waste was always inhabited.

Selenite, moon butcher

I turned, and they were all coming towards us in open order waving their axes. They were short, thick, little beggars, with long arms, strikingly different from the ones we had seen before. If they had not heard of us before, they must have realised the situation with incredible swiftness. I stared at them for a moment, spear in hand.

Their sturdy little forms - ever so much shorter and thicker than the mooncalf herds - were scattered up the slope in a way that was eloquent of indecision.

H. G. Wells, “The First Men in the Moon”, chapter “XVII. The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers”, 1901