The Professor Himself

     "I'm glad you've arrived," said the Scholar.
     "I've been expecting you. Sit, sit."
He motions you toward a large wingback chair, and you sit. The scholar picks up an ornate teapot, who's spout is fashioned like a dragon's neck and head.
     "Tea? Excellent. Well, I'm sure you'd probably like to know who I am. My name is Professor J. Odderwall Costom."
You start to ask what the "J." stands for, but the Scholar cuts you off.
     "Now, now; mustn't get too familiar too quickly, eh? In any case, it's of no real importance. But
where was I?... Ahh, yes. Professor J. Odderwall Costom. Explorer, philospher and canfabulator for the Empire. Which empire, you ask? Why, the British one, of course! What, you say there is no British Empire anymore? Foolish, foolish creature, the empire may not exist as a sovereign governmental apparatus, but for those of us who so choose, it is a sovereign governmental principle. That is to say, we are followers of the fallen Empire's ways. But enough of that."
He motions around the rooms, his eyes alighting on the various strange things around the room.
     "You've no doubt noticed my collection of oddities, curiosities, and obscurities. You see, this is what I "Do."; who I "Am". I am a Scholar, a Professor. A collector of the world's cast off knowledge, if you will. I consider it my duty to pick up the pieces of of history's Recherché, and save them for all time in this very room. Here in this room you'll find everything from Tempest Prognosticators, to Maori quarterstaffs. I've even got a piece of the great Temple at Karnak lying about somewhere... And of course, I'm always finding more things, or even making them myself." He glances towards a half-constructed lamp in a corner.
     "So!" his eyes come back to you, and you feel skewered to your seat by his gaze.
     "From time to time I'll write you a letter, giving details of my latest acquisition or project. I'll let you in on whatever interesting tomes or suchlike I stumble across in my journeys and travels. Why, you ask? Because: What good is a Wunderkammer, if not to be shared?"