There can be no doubt that the most famous scholar of all time
and space is/was/shall be Reginald Rennup, explorer of the multiverse,
sage, and adventurer extraordinaire. Those readers not familiar
with this bold savant will find several works by and about him at
the University of Horn, the institution which granted him his Doctorate
in Multiversal Studies. One of his most enlightening cases concerns
a pretender to the throne of the Principality of Monmurg,
leading lord of the Sea Princes.

Rennup, who happened to be passing through the area on a
planar field trip, was called upon to offer his sagacity regarding a
particularly perplexing affair. It seems that there were two absolutely
identical claimants to the Throne. Each individual asserted boldly
that he was Juan Drelgos III, rightful heir to Monmurg. No magic
spell, no clerical detection could in fact determine which was the real
heir and which was a clever impostor. It was certain that one was
magicked and lying, the other the actual Prince, but during the span
of a fortnight no learned sage nor any other had been able to solve
the riddle. “Help us, please!” they implored of Reginald.

The explorer agreed, and after a few minutes of deep thought
held a whispered conversation with the real Prince’s spiritual and
magical advisors. These two fellows quickly left, and in no time at all
were back with a bejewelled scroll tube.

“What spell is to be cast?” demanded the assembled council of
nobles and leading men of the land. “We have tried everything
already! Why waste time and effort?”

Rennup smiled and proceeded to have the Court Wizard cast a
special clone spell.

“STOP!” The assemblage shouted in concert. “We already have
one heir too many, and you’ll confuse the whole affair so that we’ll
never be able to determine who is really our Prince!”

“Nonsense!” shouted the good doctor in reply, and the spell was
completed.

Much to the surprise of the nobles, the clone rushed up to one of
the claimants and began throttling the life from him. “Quickly, slay
the one not attacked, and then do away with the clone,” instructed
Rennup. “The one being choked is the real Prince.”

“But how can you tell?” everyone asked wonderingly.

“A simple matter,” said the savant, with a bow. “It takes Juan to
know Juan . . .”

The second fantastic adventure of Reginald Rennup

The renowned multiversal scholar was visitting Crabshaa, possibly 
the most backward planet in the Horsehead Nebula, when he 
wa seized and accused of witchcraft.  "Rennup is unquestionably 
guilty of placing  a hex upon our Great Grood!" the village shaman 
charged.  “Prior to this being’s visit, our mighty Grood breathed most
gustily, its whistling exhalations and powerful inhalations providing
our sailcars with the power needed to move us from place to place.
Now commerce is at a standstill, and our windmills are silent. Let us
burn this evil out-worlder and restore the favor of our Grood!” he
exhorted the listening Council of Elders.

Fortunately for Rennup, several of the Elders were willing to hear
the explorer’s last words, for the villagers would have incinerated
him on the spot. Rennup requested that his hands and feet be loosed
so he could say a brief prayer to the local deity just before he went to
his fate. As soon as he was freed, however, the bold adventurer,
using the renowned art of Tai-Kung-Sinanju-Poui, broke free of the
guards, dashed through the crowd, and sped up the side of the
mountainous but stilled form of the Great Grood. The horrified
populace was hot on his heels, screaming for blood and vengeance,
but Rennup’s moves were too fast. Arriving at the summit of the
monster, he jerked out his medikit and injected the motionless hulk
with a massive dose of the new miracle drug, suedhomyacine, just as
the nearest of his pursuers grabbed him and drew back their weapons
to slay this defiling presence.

At that very instant, the Grood trembled most frighteningly and
then began to send forth a perfect gale of breath, while from its other
side there could be heard a roar of indrawn atmosphere. Windmills 
spun, sailcars zipped along at unbelievable speed! All was right in the 
world again! 

“Rennup!” chorused the Elders, “You have cured our Grood
and restored prosperity to our village, but how did you know that it
was sick and not cursed or even dead?”

Dusting himself off and smiling wisely, the savant stated: “I am
Reginald Rennup, of many times and places, but on my own plane
we have an old saying which instantly enabled me to diagnose the
problem and cure it.”

“Tell us, please,” the villagers implored.

“It is an ill Grood that blows no wind,” Rennup replied. —Anonymous
(with thanks to Dan Matheson)