Tap, tap, tap. Tap. Tap.

For whatever reason, the Collector had a cane, today: the sort that a wealthy villain with far too little fashion sense (or a hidden sword) might be expected to strut around with. It was tall, formed of grainy black wood, with a tiny horned humanoid skull atop it forged from gold.

He strode around a corner, picking his hooved way down a narrow path, and offered a casual salute toward Faceless. "I believe I heard my name, in the barest little murmur-? Was that you? It is so terribly good to see that you survived The Sleepless Chaos's power. Now." He stopped, quite close, and leaned his shoulder against a stone outcrop and his hands atop the cane, flipping one hoof to cross over the other. "What might a humble tradesman do for you..?"

Usually--normally--the Collector was ready with any number of smooth-talking sales pitches. He'd come up with something (anything) even vaguely related to his client's request; he'd offer all its wonderful pros, gloss over the cons and assure them of what a fantastic idea it would be to essentially sign over their (moral) souls for it.

But this-?

"A houseplant," was all his blank mind could come up with, after a long moment of silence.

It took him another moment to gather himself. A smile (audible in his words); an inhale. "Well, my Smiling Horrorbeast friend... You are not incorrect in your statement that this is, indeed, a strange request." Polite amusement ran through his words. "But--ahh; there are so many varied things in this lovely little world of ours where one might put in effort and then reap our rewards. A profession," and his hands spread, palms up, "or raising children, or even a contract working for me..."

Now, that was a thought. He did have his children, now, but after all would it not be interesting to sign a contract with a Gembound free-? To have them serve him for varied rewards? Vaguely, he wondered how such a thing might go.

He leaned back, lifted the cane and eyed it, and grimaced a little. Tacky. A shake of his hand, and it vanished, gone. Red pinprick eyes flicked back to Faceless.

"Tell me; when do you feel the greatest sense of accomplishment in your life..? Perhaps that will aid us in narrowing down possibilities, hmm?"

He stared, for a beat, nonplussed.

This was--well, it was a flood of information, certainly. And more information was better than less, but some of it required... filtering, and he stood for a moment struggling to pick the useful from the not-so-much.

The stretch after the nap, for example? Not useful.

But... surprises.

"I do so enjoy providing surprises," he crooned, and then tipped his head to one side.

Clawed fingertips tapped at his sleeves, and then he nodded to himself. "I think the Tome of Accomplishment might well be what you seek."

Those fingers slid into his robes, and a moment later slid back out with a thick, ancient, leatherbound tome within. He blew the dust off the book's cover (and there was copious dust), then creaked it carefully open. The yellowed and uneven parchment pages within were...

...blank.

"...Ahh," said the Collector, and began rapidly flipping backward through the pages.

About fifty pages back--still blank--and he added a "hmmm," for good measure.

And then--right near the start of the book--"Aha! Here we are." He knelt, pushing the book toward (and turning it to face) Faceless, settling it on the rock.

The page displayed showed a colorful, painted-looking image threaded through with gleaming gold leaf. It showed a highly stylized version of Faceless--and as the Collector flipped back a couple pages, Faceless might recognize the story being told. The last page held streaks of gold and magenta dust, and an owl in flight, Faceless in the foreground. The page before, a series of strange, metallic pods. And the page before that? An eerie, foggy forest with a broken carriage and the shapes of Gembounds drawing near.

"...Truly? I did not expect that, of all things, in your past, my strange friend. But! Moving on."

The page before this one depicted the shadowed edges of a vast coliseum; and inside, a bipedal creature with a spear fighting what might have been Faceless. "What might have been," because the shape was upside-down, tossed skyward on what looked like a pillar of black smoke streaked with green lightning. "Ah yes," said The Collector, tapping a claw to this page. "I remember that."

He snapped the book shut, and another, smaller plume of dust pooled around it. "In any case, the 'surprises' this book offers are snapshots of what you accomplish. There is no set goal. Whatever you might do, should the book deem it of import, will appear in glorious color within--a sampling, of course, for now. Should I give you the book it will record your deeds. Touching a picture within will allow you--or anyone else--to relive that scene in all its... possibly questionable glory." He gently shrugged. "I am also told that it grants additional power--so long as you keep hold of the book, that is--for each five stories the book chooses to chronicle. I do not know what powers; the rumors have claimed they may be new magic, or gifts of knowledge. Does this sort of thing interest you-?" he finished, head tilting back to one side, book tucked back beneath his arm.