Czlaplon Quest

[arcomniflash]

As the old t'skrang jumps out, I hop backwards into a combat stance, my hand on my sword. Once Shaliko has him pinned, however, I'll relax a little and kneel down beside him. "Tell us what?" I'll ask in a serious tone. "Who are you?" This old t'skrang clearly wants to tell us something in particular, rather than just being a random crazy, so perhaps we haven't been keeping as low a profile as I would like.

- Isaac

[TarlimanJoppos]

"The psychology of mobility is dualistic in its codependency!" the old man croaks.

A couple of apprentices have come over from a nearby shop. "Come on, professor," one of them says, but doesn't reach for the old man as Shaliko still has him pinned with a knife to his throat. "Stop bothering the adepts."

"Sorry about that," the other apprentice says. "We usually manage to dump him in the canal before he gets hold of anyone."

[arcomniflash]

I'll sigh before standing back up. "Shaliko, could you let him go? He doesn't seem dangerous..." and with that I'll turn my attention to the two students. "Professor? Are you wizard's then? What is he talking about?" I'll fold my arms at first and then, remembering my manners, tip my hat to the both of them. "Ah, begging your pardon. My name is Isaac Himnerith. Your professor attempted to talk to me before, but I'm not sure I understand what it is that he wants..." Waving my hand, I indicate the old t'skrang clutching at my leggings.

- Isaac

[TarlimanJoppos]

Shaliko releases the old t'skrang and backs away a step, staying in a fighting crouch, ready to move if the old man presents a threat.

One of the young men shakes his head. "Oh, no, we're not wizards. We're printer's journeymen, work over there, where the big guy with the visor is giving us a bad look cos we're over here." He jerks a thumb at a nearby printing shop. Sure enough, there's a large, overweight t'skrang man glaring in your general direction and tapping his foot impatiently. "I'm Hovrid and this is Kelligan." He indicates the other young man.

"And he's not really a professor, or maybe he was, we dunno." Kelligan shrugs. "He hangs around here, scavenges up the scrap parchment, and draws a lot on the walls in the alley. I think he used to be some kind of scholar, but that was a long time ago."

"The discourse of representational familiarity is associated with the denomination of print culture!" the professor says earnestly, looking up at you (he's still down, hasn't gotten up despite Shaliko letting him go) with something akin to desperation, like he's really trying to get something vitally important across.

[arcomniflash]

I'll arch an eyebrow as I glance down at the old t'skrang again. "You're not making much sense..." I'll say quietly and then looking back up at the two printers, with a glance at their obvious boss. "I'd better not keep you too long, your friend over there seems to be getting rather impatient."

The 'professor' seemed to be speaking in tongues, perhaps it all meant something, but I certainly can't figure it out on the spot. "Calm down..." I'll say to him with a glare that was perhaps harsher than intended. "Can you understand me? If you can, say your name." I had a hunch, that perhaps he was under some kind of curse or spell, but perhaps that was nothing more than a wild theory, perhaps he was just mad.

- Isaac

[TarlimanJoppos]

The printers' journeymen shrug. "Suit yourself," says Kelligan. "Let us know if you need him chucked into the canal." And they go back to work.

"I'm the explicator of correspondence," the professor replies to Isaac's request. "Erzentefel's seven hundred and twenty-three page monograph on the relationship between the eroticization of the enigmatic and the hermeneutic of narrative communication addresses an important subject but forgets to mail it, if I may permit myself a slight witticism." Wow, he got that all out in one breath.

Shaliko rolls his eyes. "He certainly sounds like a wizard," he says, putting away his knife.

[arcomniflash]

I sigh quietly. "Yes, yes, clearly you can understand my question, but do you have a name?" The man still wasn't making much sense, he did seem rather desperate to convey something though, it was just that the words were garbled gibberish. "Shaliko, have you ever heard of any magics that could make someone speak in tongues?"

- Isaac

[TarlimanJoppos]

"Everything has a Name," says the professor, "even objects and concepts that are not considered to be unique. All of existence exists within a contermineous continuum of identity in which extancy recapitulates philology."

Shaliko considers your question for a moment. "There's an Illusionist spell that scrambles what the target says, so that nobody can understand them, but he's making a kind of sense. Makes my head hurt trying to follow him, but he's speaking proper Throalic, not garbage like the spell produces. There's a Wizard spell that causes someone to talk incessantly and uncontrollably, spilling out everything they know in a random flood, kind of useful for interrogation but it's not targetable. Maybe he's got something like that going? He said something about Erzentefel? Could that be Master Genseth Erzentefel?" The pained squint suggests that Shaliko's having to really work at this.

"The hermeneutic of synesthesia works toward the writing of the unspoken!" the professor exclaims. He pushes himself up off the wooden walkway and rolls back into a seated position.

[arcomniflash]

"It could be...but...I don't know if he's making any kind of sense at all or if he's just well...you know..." I'll sigh again. "He's clearly trying to communicate something to us, but I don't know what the hell he's talking about." I'll give a small resigned shrug and look back at the two other men, assuming they're still present. "Hey, excuse me, sorry to bother you again. How long have you known the professor? Has he always been like this?"

- Isaac

[TarlimanJoppos]

Kelligan shrugs, not looking away from the broadsheet he's hanging up on a drying line. "I started here six years ago,m straight out of kaissa, and he was living in the alley then, just like he is now. Hovrid's only been here four years."

The professor follows you. "Trisgonalar's eccentric interpretation of the relationship between the differentiation of biohistory and the figuralization of the materialist architectonic perhaps overstates the influence of Kinbote." He tries to give you a folded bit of parchment.

Shaliko takes a quick squint at the parchment. "No astral signature," he says, and shrugs.