Quest for the Gemgark

Meanwhile, from the upside, Sk'karl was annoyed at the seemingly uncooperativeness of the occultist. He was very obviously awake, but yet he still laid on the floor. This sloth-in-robes was doing a great job and the Lizardman would very much give him applause - in the form of a swift kick on the side.

"Oof."

The occultist managed to take the kick in stride. He just slightly curled up...and continued to lay there. He could ponder the reasons why this ochre lizardfellow did such a deed, but why should he bother. He needed to conserve his brain cells after all.

At this point, Sk'karl had the deepest suspicion that the wizard on the floor was on to something. Look at those mage-y robes; he must have some brains to wear those magical fashion-pieces. Clearly, the occultist was acting - or perhaps hiding something even. Perhaps, even information to Gemgark. Sk'karl did not know, but regardless, you could never trust wizards. Even beardless ones.

Suddenly, Festinger found himself dragged up by two scaly hands. The domed head of Sk'karl focused in his vision. He blinked a bit. He was not a man for surprises, but on the other hand, when is the last time a lizardman dragged you up a floor?

"Oh." Festinger found words spilling out of his mouth. "Who's you."

Sk'karl frowned. He knew the mage's name but he rather not share his own - just yet. "I could ask the same thing from you."

"What."

"I said I could ask the same thing from you."

"Huh."

"LOOK, same question to you."

"Oh." Festinger blinked. "Okay."

Sk'karl frowned a bit. Man, was this mage even half-deaf too. Perhaps, he could get some information from him? It might prove difficult considering like apparently his listening, he probably has half a personality too. "So, what are you here for?"

"Um. Wha."

"I say what are you here for."

"Wha."

"Look, you are here for a reason. What is it."

Festinger could feel the gears ticking in his head - and they are going very, very slow. After an uncomfortable span of time, the occultist decided that perhaps it was worth bothering to answer that reptilian stranger's questions. "Um." An irritating pause later. "Gemgark."

"Gemgark." Sk'karl repeated the word to himself. It was audible, but he knew Festinger could not care enough to listen. Gemgark. The one and only. The Most Legendary Treasure of all. Perhaps he could fish more information about this gem away from this wizard fellow.

Suddenly, there was scratching in the distance.

"What's that." Sk'karl hissed. His paranoia nearly loosening his grip on Festinger.

"Huh?"

Sk'karl did not bother to clarify (knowing from experience, of course). He was pretty sure there was something in this room - and the scratching continued, reminiscent of the grinding between a furniture and the floor. The lizardman was not afraid, but he felt a bit tense - especially when the noise grew louder and louder.

"BooooOoooooooooooooOOOooOOOOOOOOooooOOOOo."

Festinger blinked at the sound of such a disembodied voice. As much as he felt the null of apathy on every spectrum of his lifestyle, he was incredibly interested (passionate is probably too strong of a word for his soul-less state) in the study of the strange. Like a scientist who could not help but apply his knowledge to his surroundings, Festinger decided to indulge himself.

"Oh, it's a ghost," he pointed out the obvious in a mixture of irritating chipper and his typical monotone.

Sk'karl let out a slight groan. As if there was not enough problems already.