What Happens Along the Way: Character Sketches, Log Entries, and Scribbles of a Tryke
Posted: Sat Oct 23, 2004 5:16 am
1. Flozzie
His reputation preceded him. And his mouth. I had heard from an acquantance of a cousin of a former classmate that this rough-around-the-edges kid from the other side of the island could craft me a magic amplifier that would make the hand-me-down amp I had gotten from my Uncle Blorf seem like a broken twig. Through this flimsy network of connections, I set up a time and a place to meet Flozzie. It was an odd time and an odd place: the crack of dawn at Dingleton, a neglected corner-town of Tryker refugee island, and the brunt of dingle jokes of all us kids from Aubermouth.
My own cousin, Floyd, had met Flozzie on one occasion before; my cousin's advice to me on this morning when I set out to Dingleton to barter with this notoriously pricey, yet reputedly competent crafter was twofold: 1) put up a tough front and haggle excessively over price, and 2) bring a bar of soap to wash the crafter's mouth out with.
I set out early, and as the constellations and ringed planet overhead were fading into daylight, I crept into Dingleton. A few people were up and about, mostly guards; it was the hour when most prefer to sleep. Yet, this didn't stop this boisterous hawker-of-wares. I could hear him from 100 meters out of town: "Magic amps, get yer frickin' magic amps; best flippin' amps this side of the mainland; don't be stupid, buy from Flozzie. Flozzie'll take care of ya. Flozzie is here for ya. Flozzie wants ta take you home. Hey, baby." I puzzled over this odd progression of sentences as I moved quickly down the dock-like avenue. Hey, baby? I wondered what I was getting myself into.
I got closer to the merchant's hut that Flozzie camped out at all day, every day, threading boots, pants, sleeves, and other articles of armor; carving out amps and assembling them with crystal focii; drinking bottles of a golden brew called Lowenbrau. He was intoxicated when I arrived.
I introduced myself. "Hey, Mel!" he nearly slurred, shirtless, a ridiculous yet charming grin cutting through his face. His eyes glinted, nearly wicked with humor. "Wow, you don't sound half-bad." I'm not sure what this meant; if he liked my voice, or if he was just drunk. He showed me his selection of foci. This one made with choice mats, this one tweaked to improve casting time, that one imbued with a cold missile enchantment.
"How much for this one?" I asked, picking up a fairly slender and short staff capped with a frosty cluster of blue gems. "Oh, well that one--that's the choicest, coldest, most delicious, beautiful, curvy..." he trailed off, and I noticed that his eyes had strayed from the staff to my chest. I cleared my throat.
"Oh! Yo, um, snap," he said, and snapped, blinked his eyes, took a long pull from his bottle of Lowenbrau. "Like I was sayin', nothin' but the best for you, Mel. Flozzie'll hook you up with dat lil' piece of... er, with that gem of an... amp. It's the best, Mel, so it'll run ya 25K."
My mind boggled and I'm sure my face showed it. I laughed; "25K??! Twenty-five thousand??" I laughed some more. "For this??" I squinted at the thing, scrutinized it. "Look at this, the gem clusters are all scratched up! And it looks like you bought the basic amp itself from the merchant over there and just glued these crystals on here!"
"Hey, hey, now," Flozzie said. "No reason to insult Flozzie." He opened his palms, spread his arms out, and I noticed, not for the first time, his forearms and biceps. And from there, the precision cut of his deltoids, leading into the rippling muscles of his pectorals. I shook my head, noticed him eyeing me and smiling smugly. "You like Flozzie's goods, don'tcha Mel?" He winked at me, causing me to shudder. "Flozzie's got the right package for ya." Ug; I couldn't believe this guy. Rolling my eyes, I counter-offered an offer that brought out a contrived look of hurt on this hard-as-nails swindler.
"15K??" He grabbed the amp from my hands, held it in his calloused hands for me to examine. He grabbed my wrist--not too strongly, but definitely with force. It didn't hurt. I'd been hunting Goari all week, so a wrist-snap from an egotistical shortie was not going to hurt me. He guided my hand along the focus. "Feel how smooth that is, how easy to grip. It's smooth, but it ain't gonna slide out of your sweaty lil' palm when you're quaking with fright, tryin' to remember the wacky words of yer incantation, as the fierce yubo rears up on it's hind legs to piss on ya." I caught the sly grin sneak onto his face, and had to catch myself from sharing a similar look.
"Look," I said, trying hard to look stern and determined, angry even. "This is ridiculous!" I wagged my finger at him, trying to imitate my mom, the way she used to scold me when she would catch me eating a plate of cake and pie, and drinking a steaming cup of hot, super-steeped tea in the middle of the night. "25K for a piece of wood and some unpolished crystals? Who do you think you're dealing with here? I'm not some third rate stable-girl, you thug!" I ran down a list of my achivements for him; some true, some false. He laughed.
"Mel, Mel, Mel. You're pitiful. You don't gotta prove yourself to me to be my ho." My jaw dropped. Ho?? That's not something I'd been called before. "Relax, it's a compliment," he said, tossing his purple hair to the side with a jerk of his head. It was the gesture of arrogance, to my mind. "Look, I like you, so I'll cut you a deal. For you, 20K."
I pulled a face. "Gimme it. Lemme check it over again." He did, and I did. It seemed a fair enough piece of equipment, but I really couldn't tell. The only focus I'd ever handled before was my Uncle Blorf's, and this one certainly was lighter, more compact, had a nice heft to it. I had no idea about the crystals; I'd never seen any of those before. They did look a little rough, but there were quite a few of the little buggers set into the top, so that it looked like a big wad of sweet, crunchy candy. There were some nice, ancient-looking runes etched into the wood. I didn't ask Flozzie if he carved them in there himself, because if he did, I didn't want to blow up his ego to any greater size. I pretended to study the staff, giving it penetrating, scrutinizing looks for well over two minutes. I held it so the gems caught the light from different angles. I noticed they looked a little dim. "Is this thing fully charged?" I asked.
Flozzie sighed. "You gonna buy that or not?"
"Charge it, and I'll buy it."
Flozzie told me I was pitiful again, took the magic weapon from my hand. He went through some dramatic incantations, investing them with a special brand of melodrama, and channeled energy into the crown of the focus. I handed him 20k and he handed me the object of our negotiations.
"Tell ya what I'll do for ya, Mel, 'cuz I like ya--and I don't do this for everyone, so don't go tellin' people and makin' me look soft--since I know you're weak and can't charge that thing yerself, you come to Flozzie 'til you learn how to take care of yerself, and I'll charge it up for ya."
I looked at him with suspicion, at the focus with suspicion. By the slight dull tint of the gems, I could tell it still wasn't fully charged, yet. "Then, you wouldn't mind charging it up fully now, would you?"
He told me I was pitiful. But, he charged it all the way for me.
As I left, I could hear him making all sorts of comments and catcalls to my back, but I tuned them out. Shaking my head, with the feeling of being scammed crossing ambivalently with some other, almost foreign, surge of excitement and challenge, I had a strong feeling that I'd be seeing more of this crooked-smiling crafter; this crooked, scheming salesman. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
His reputation preceded him. And his mouth. I had heard from an acquantance of a cousin of a former classmate that this rough-around-the-edges kid from the other side of the island could craft me a magic amplifier that would make the hand-me-down amp I had gotten from my Uncle Blorf seem like a broken twig. Through this flimsy network of connections, I set up a time and a place to meet Flozzie. It was an odd time and an odd place: the crack of dawn at Dingleton, a neglected corner-town of Tryker refugee island, and the brunt of dingle jokes of all us kids from Aubermouth.
My own cousin, Floyd, had met Flozzie on one occasion before; my cousin's advice to me on this morning when I set out to Dingleton to barter with this notoriously pricey, yet reputedly competent crafter was twofold: 1) put up a tough front and haggle excessively over price, and 2) bring a bar of soap to wash the crafter's mouth out with.
I set out early, and as the constellations and ringed planet overhead were fading into daylight, I crept into Dingleton. A few people were up and about, mostly guards; it was the hour when most prefer to sleep. Yet, this didn't stop this boisterous hawker-of-wares. I could hear him from 100 meters out of town: "Magic amps, get yer frickin' magic amps; best flippin' amps this side of the mainland; don't be stupid, buy from Flozzie. Flozzie'll take care of ya. Flozzie is here for ya. Flozzie wants ta take you home. Hey, baby." I puzzled over this odd progression of sentences as I moved quickly down the dock-like avenue. Hey, baby? I wondered what I was getting myself into.
I got closer to the merchant's hut that Flozzie camped out at all day, every day, threading boots, pants, sleeves, and other articles of armor; carving out amps and assembling them with crystal focii; drinking bottles of a golden brew called Lowenbrau. He was intoxicated when I arrived.
I introduced myself. "Hey, Mel!" he nearly slurred, shirtless, a ridiculous yet charming grin cutting through his face. His eyes glinted, nearly wicked with humor. "Wow, you don't sound half-bad." I'm not sure what this meant; if he liked my voice, or if he was just drunk. He showed me his selection of foci. This one made with choice mats, this one tweaked to improve casting time, that one imbued with a cold missile enchantment.
"How much for this one?" I asked, picking up a fairly slender and short staff capped with a frosty cluster of blue gems. "Oh, well that one--that's the choicest, coldest, most delicious, beautiful, curvy..." he trailed off, and I noticed that his eyes had strayed from the staff to my chest. I cleared my throat.
"Oh! Yo, um, snap," he said, and snapped, blinked his eyes, took a long pull from his bottle of Lowenbrau. "Like I was sayin', nothin' but the best for you, Mel. Flozzie'll hook you up with dat lil' piece of... er, with that gem of an... amp. It's the best, Mel, so it'll run ya 25K."
My mind boggled and I'm sure my face showed it. I laughed; "25K??! Twenty-five thousand??" I laughed some more. "For this??" I squinted at the thing, scrutinized it. "Look at this, the gem clusters are all scratched up! And it looks like you bought the basic amp itself from the merchant over there and just glued these crystals on here!"
"Hey, hey, now," Flozzie said. "No reason to insult Flozzie." He opened his palms, spread his arms out, and I noticed, not for the first time, his forearms and biceps. And from there, the precision cut of his deltoids, leading into the rippling muscles of his pectorals. I shook my head, noticed him eyeing me and smiling smugly. "You like Flozzie's goods, don'tcha Mel?" He winked at me, causing me to shudder. "Flozzie's got the right package for ya." Ug; I couldn't believe this guy. Rolling my eyes, I counter-offered an offer that brought out a contrived look of hurt on this hard-as-nails swindler.
"15K??" He grabbed the amp from my hands, held it in his calloused hands for me to examine. He grabbed my wrist--not too strongly, but definitely with force. It didn't hurt. I'd been hunting Goari all week, so a wrist-snap from an egotistical shortie was not going to hurt me. He guided my hand along the focus. "Feel how smooth that is, how easy to grip. It's smooth, but it ain't gonna slide out of your sweaty lil' palm when you're quaking with fright, tryin' to remember the wacky words of yer incantation, as the fierce yubo rears up on it's hind legs to piss on ya." I caught the sly grin sneak onto his face, and had to catch myself from sharing a similar look.
"Look," I said, trying hard to look stern and determined, angry even. "This is ridiculous!" I wagged my finger at him, trying to imitate my mom, the way she used to scold me when she would catch me eating a plate of cake and pie, and drinking a steaming cup of hot, super-steeped tea in the middle of the night. "25K for a piece of wood and some unpolished crystals? Who do you think you're dealing with here? I'm not some third rate stable-girl, you thug!" I ran down a list of my achivements for him; some true, some false. He laughed.
"Mel, Mel, Mel. You're pitiful. You don't gotta prove yourself to me to be my ho." My jaw dropped. Ho?? That's not something I'd been called before. "Relax, it's a compliment," he said, tossing his purple hair to the side with a jerk of his head. It was the gesture of arrogance, to my mind. "Look, I like you, so I'll cut you a deal. For you, 20K."
I pulled a face. "Gimme it. Lemme check it over again." He did, and I did. It seemed a fair enough piece of equipment, but I really couldn't tell. The only focus I'd ever handled before was my Uncle Blorf's, and this one certainly was lighter, more compact, had a nice heft to it. I had no idea about the crystals; I'd never seen any of those before. They did look a little rough, but there were quite a few of the little buggers set into the top, so that it looked like a big wad of sweet, crunchy candy. There were some nice, ancient-looking runes etched into the wood. I didn't ask Flozzie if he carved them in there himself, because if he did, I didn't want to blow up his ego to any greater size. I pretended to study the staff, giving it penetrating, scrutinizing looks for well over two minutes. I held it so the gems caught the light from different angles. I noticed they looked a little dim. "Is this thing fully charged?" I asked.
Flozzie sighed. "You gonna buy that or not?"
"Charge it, and I'll buy it."
Flozzie told me I was pitiful again, took the magic weapon from my hand. He went through some dramatic incantations, investing them with a special brand of melodrama, and channeled energy into the crown of the focus. I handed him 20k and he handed me the object of our negotiations.
"Tell ya what I'll do for ya, Mel, 'cuz I like ya--and I don't do this for everyone, so don't go tellin' people and makin' me look soft--since I know you're weak and can't charge that thing yerself, you come to Flozzie 'til you learn how to take care of yerself, and I'll charge it up for ya."
I looked at him with suspicion, at the focus with suspicion. By the slight dull tint of the gems, I could tell it still wasn't fully charged, yet. "Then, you wouldn't mind charging it up fully now, would you?"
He told me I was pitiful. But, he charged it all the way for me.
As I left, I could hear him making all sorts of comments and catcalls to my back, but I tuned them out. Shaking my head, with the feeling of being scammed crossing ambivalently with some other, almost foreign, surge of excitement and challenge, I had a strong feeling that I'd be seeing more of this crooked-smiling crafter; this crooked, scheming salesman. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
