Calling in the Expert

“The fauna at world’s end is very floral and exotic which means it can be very dangerous. There are hundreds of carnivorous species, and thousands of poisonous, venomous plants growing across the forest floor, up the trees, and throughout the canopy,” explains the Scribe, pointing at several pictures hanging on the blackboard. Dozens of students sit, pencils in hand glued to the Scribe’s every word. An intellectual windbag in the front row adjusts his glasses and waves his hand in the air. “Excuse me sir, excuse me,” whines the student. “Yes?” answers the Scribe, the reply answering the student incessant appeals for attention, but also open to the interpretation that the Scribe was giving the student an opportunity to censor himself before he make a fool of his aforementioned self. “Did you mean to say venomous because, actually, venomous means…” begins the student, but he is cut off abruptly by the Scribe. “Yes,” says the Scribe shortly, his tone carrying an air of confidence, seniority, and finality. The student puts his hand down, crestfallen, as the Scribe watches him intently. The Scribe looks up to continue his lecture but sees a pair of figures enter in the back of the classroom. Concealed by the lowlight, only the figures silhouettes were visible him. One figure wears a robust bowler hat and is carrying a cane. He favors his shoulder as he walks. The other figure is either a large man or…. no not a large man, but a man wearing a coat or… a robe, that’s it a robe and a pointy hat! The strange figures who entered the room now look more familiar to the Scribe, who is thrilled by their arrival. The Scribe looks at the clock on the wall, and does something he rarely can do. “Students, we’ll leave off there and pick up again with the foliage of strange lands before moving into the topography I observed when adventuring at world’s end. I will see you tomorrow.” This is indeed quite a surprise as the Scribe’s lectures never end early, not that they would want them too. The Scribe’s tales of adventure made for much better time and study than calculus. The students look at each other, then break out into various conversations as they pack their bags and file out of the classroom. Soon the only the Scribe and his two visitors remain in the classroom. “I was wondering how long it would take you to visit. Honestly, I’m hurt it took so long,” says the Scribe with mock sadness in his voice. “It is good to see you old friend,” says the familiar voice, bright and bold as ever, but now with a touch of darkness and sadness. “I just wish that it were more pleasant circumstances.” The Scribe’s heart drops. These tidings were not to be scoffed at. “Well, Wizard, what can I do for you?” asks the Scribe thoughtfully. The Wizard walks toward the front of the room, Dr. Wolf falling in behind him. “Scribe, I need to understand the universes beyond the Fableverse.”