Attention-Deficit Roleplaying

The 13-year old girl didn't hear a word the horse said, mainly as her mind was blown by the news that the sinking of the Titanic was not made up for a movie. She then decided that not only did she want to be a princess, she decided to become a pop-star as well, hoping her song would outsell The Gamoreans, whose album just went Platinum.
 
Once again, the girl was doomed to disappointment. No video producer wanted anything to do with her, because she _wasn't_ willing to do nasty, disgusting things that would make any viewer with an I.Q. higher than five want to vomit. But a sort of consolation came for the girl: Meriden from the movie "Brave" showed up and said to her, "Don't feel bad aboot it, wee lass; there are some things that it's _good_ not to succeed at."

Meanwhile, Ivan and Vissarion set out on their quest. Unlike the quests of narcissistic thirteen-year-olds, this was a quest that an adult _could_ understand.
 
Ivan was glad to be able to toss his pack in the cart, but he kept a close grip on his gun. It would be better, he thought, in case of long distance attacks.

The two men walked together a ways. They did not speak for a good while, but Ivan was glad for the company. He found that, although no words were said, they could communicate by a glance, by the very fact that they walked in time with one another.

Suddenly, a wooden door sprouted from the ground in front of them, as if it were an odd tree. Two words were carved into the wood:

Lost Things.

"Well," said Ivan, "I've certainly lost someone. Perhaps we might find him through here. Or we may find something worse. Do you think it's a trap?"
 
"Most likely a trap," replied Vissarion, easing his sword out of the scabbard. "But since we're living in a story, it's NOT likely that it will simply kill us before we have any chance to do anything, end of story, too bad, ha ha ha. In fact, it may even lead to some pleasant surprise -- like you regaining your lost ability to sleep peacefully. I'm inclined to go forward."
 
"A trap? Well, it's not like that's stopped me before," said Ivan. He grinned at his friend, swung back his leg, and kicked open the door. The entry was narrow; only one man could fit through at a time.

"Nothing for it now," said Ivan. Steadying his pistol, he barged headlong through the door.

Inside was so dark that Ivan couldn't even see his hand in front of his face.

"Vissarion," he whispered (though he did not know why he whispered), "Are you here?"

As he spoke, a tiny prick of light appeared ahead of him, and it grew larger and larger as whatever (or whoever) it was came closer.
 
Overtaking his friend, Vissarion didn't want to impede Ivan's gun hand if combat were called for. So he shifted his sword to his left hand (he could fight with either hand), came up on Ivan's left side, and laid his right hand on Ivan's left shoulder. "I'm here."
 
The light loomed closer, and Ivan called out:

"We're armed!"


"As am I!"

The light came closer still and the sound of pounding hooves came with it. It was a knight, nearly six feet tall, on top of a charger. With one hand he grasped the reigns, in the other, he carried a lantern. A broadsword was strapped across his back.

Ivan held his hand steady, pointing the gun directly at him.

"Don't move."

The knight ignored him and galloped closer. Ivan shot. The bullet whizzed through the air, ricocheted off the knight's helmet, and sailed off into the pitch black.

"My good man," said the knight, "What is the meaning of this?" He leaned in closer, peering at them through his helmet.

"I am Ivan," he said, "This is my friend, Vissarion. We mean no harm, but we won't hesitate to kill you if we need."

"And nor do I my good man," said the knight. He pulled the helmet off, "For I am Gawain, of King Arthur's court. Do you seek the Grail as well?"

"The what?" Ivan looked helplessly at Vissarion, who seemed to know more about this sort of thing.
 
"I have heard of you, Sir Gawain," said Vissarion calmly. "You and I serve the same God -- Father, Son and Holy Spirit. You must pardon my friend here; he was alarmed, because in our travels we have encountered many foul and evil creatures. We have a quest of our own, and I fear that we have no tidings to give you about the Grail; we can only wish you success."
 
Ivan lowered the gun, but kept a close eyes on the knight.

"Well, then," said Gawain, "I must be off. Fare thee well in thy quest, my friends."

As he was about to gallop off, Ivan shouted after him:

"Wait! I am looking for someone. A tall man with blue eyes."

Gawain's charger pawed the ground, anxious to keep going.

"Let me impart to you what I have learned," said Gawain, leaning in again, "I have met many men in this darkness. They are all seeking. But I have yet to see anything found."

"You found us," said Ivan, unhelpfully.


ooc: feel free to take charge of Gawain as you will. As he's not mine, I don't mind if you have him do things.
 
"One clue I can offer you," said Gawain. "This I derive from the numerous tales of bards, peddlers, and fellow knights. It appears that there are, in all, six gateways by which travellers come into this darkened land. Merlin the Wizard is of the belief that there is nothing to bar one from departing.... EXCEPT that he must leave this strange realm by a DIFFERENT door than that which he entered. If your lost friend came here, it may be that, not knowing he needs to seek a different exit, he is wasting his efforts trying to find again the SAME entrance he used."


Meanwhile, in a distant part of this mystic land, Andrew Adamson was searching -- but NOT very hard -- for what he had lost, namely all sense of appreciation for majestic and morally lofty epics. Miley Cyrus was there too, searching for the charm and appeal she had formerly possessed before she set out to make people vomit.
 
"Before you go," said Ivan, "Can you tell us where you got that lantern?"

Gawain pointed, and Ivan followed his arm to a faint glowing spot in the distance.

"Go there, my friends," said the knight, "And you will find the light you seek. And should you require my assistance, call for me. Until then, I must seek the grail!"

And he shot off into the night.

"Stay close," said Ivan, gripping Vissarion's arm, "I don't want to lose you."

Together, they felt their way through the pitch black to the glowing horizon, and soon it became clear to both men that it was a large brick building. Golden light poured from the windows, pooling on the ground. A giant book, carved from stone, stood open in the courtyard, and across the front of the statue was etched the words:

The Library of Light.

"Seems an odd place to find a lamp," said Ivan, "but we haven't much of an option."

They approached the double oak doors (complete with an iron knocker in the shape of a lion's head), and instead of kicking it in, Ivan reached up and slammed the knocker twice.

Almost instantly, a small, pleasant voice said: "Stand back, please."

The doors swung open, an on the threshold a tiny old lady stood. She leaned on a cane and peered at them owlishly through giant round glasses.

"Do you need a light?" she asked, "We specialize in light. Come."
She bent a crooked finger.

"Er, who are you," said Ivan."

"The librarian of light, of course."

They followed her into a large circular room with a desk. Ivan expected to see candles or gaslamps, but instead, the light radiated from the stacks of books on the desk.

"Do either of you have a library card? I suppose you don't. Here," she shoved a pile of forms at them, "Fill these out and I'll get you all set up."
 
"Begging your pardon," said Vissarion to the librarian, "but how strict are the language requirements for this? I can _speak_ English and Russian, but I am _literate_ only in the Trantean, Huscadine, and Korshamic languages."
 
Meanwhile, Ivan the Horrible was thinking about adopting a pet, but couldn't decide whether he wanted a cat, a dog, of Smerdyakov, the Evil Purple Duck.
 
Some animal-rights fanatics got wind of this, and told Ivan the Horrible: "You can't OWN an animal! That's demeaning and bigoted! You have to SIGN A CONTRACT with the animal. But this is your lucky day: for a modest fee of twenty thousand dollars, we'll draw up the animal-association contract for you."
 
"Hey," The role-play Ivan shouted, breaking the fourth wall, "I am not horrible!"


The Librarian of Light ignored this outburst and answered Vissarion's question:
"You will find that the forms are in whatever language you read naturally. There is great magic here."
"We don't need books," said Ivan impatiently, "We need light." He ended his sentence with a mild obscenity.
"Silly man," said the Librarian, "Books are light."
She gestured to the stack of glowing books on her desk.
"I don't follow," said Ivan. He reached instinctively for his pistol.
The Librarian picked a book off the top of the stack, a gorgeous leather bound edition of Dante's Divine Comedy. Brilliant light spilled from it, though not so bright that it was painful to look at.
"You see," she said, "It's illuminated."
"I still don't-"
"Out there," she waved a withered hand toward the door, "what can you see? It is all pitch dark. How can you know which way you should go? This will light a path for you."
She handed the large book to him, and, though he knew he could not speak the language in which it was written, he found he could read the pages.
"The last line is particularly beautiful," she said, "Take a look."
"I didn't come here to read," said Ivan, "But I suppose one of these is bright enough to light our way."
"Ah," said the Librarian, "But perhaps you want to look through our collection. You can't choose just any book, you know. They all shed light, yes. With that one, you can light your way. With others, you would only find yourself more lost."
Ivan thought about this, and it still made no sense.
"How do I know which book to choose?"
The Librarian shrugged.
"There I cannot help you. You must decide, each of you, which book you will choose."
Ivan put the copy of Dante down.
"Come with me," said the Librarian, "And I will bring you to the collection."
 
"I think that what we heard about an 'Ivan the Horrible' was referring to some _other_ Ivan," Vissarion told his own Ivan. "But returning to our present situation:

"Now that the Librarian has explained this much, I believe I can fill in some more. The riddle of some books lighting our way and other books not helping us is merely an extension of what we experience when talking with people in person. A flesh-and-blood man standing in front of us might lie on purpose, or speak foolishness unintentionally, or communicate true wisdom to us."

= = = = = = = = = =

Meanwhile, the animal-rights extremists went to a wildlife preserve and tried lecturing a pride of lions that they, the lions, should be eating nothing but steamed rice, tofu, bran muffins and salad. The lions ate the animal-rights extremists. There was much rejoicing.
 
One of the monks was always standing by to explain to library visitors that, in the context of antique-style books, "illuminated" did not mean that each book had its own built-in lightbulb.
 
Upon hearing this, Footylumpkins the Weasel became upset and took his book back to the store because he was planning to use it to decorate his house at Christmas time in place of regular Christmas lights.
 
Uncle Fester from the Addams Family solved Footylumpkins' problem. In return for a very modest wage, Fester would start coming over after Thanksgiving weekend; he would spend three hours each evening in front of the weasel's house, holding one end of a Christmas-light string in his mouth to make it light up.
 
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