Description
It's hard to tell whether this felar is fat, exactly, or whether he's simply
very fuzzy. Long brown fur poofs out in every direction, and whenever he
scratches himself against something, which he does frequently, huge clumps of
it disengage from his body and swirl and spin on the breeze. His shaggy coat
and something about his gait lend him an appearance that's faintly bear-like.
He's wearing a dark wool jacket that hangs sloppily open, revealing a bit of
paunch that he seems blissfully unself-conscious about. There's a satchel
slung over his shoulder. It smells a lot like -- yes. It's definitely coffee
beans.
Role
Wherein Retzi Causes Problems
Added Thu Feb 23 06:00:19 2017 at level 11:
"Shit," said the old wizard, looking at the carnage strewn about his floor.
"Dammit. Sweet gods in Asgaard. Shit."
He stood in his doorway, frozen in the act of entering. In his arms, bundles of
groceries, pills and potions and magical reagents, as well as more mundane
goods -- a whole kipper for supper, plus the seven pounds of dark-roasted
coffee beans and three bottles of whiskey required to keep a workaholic wizard
going for, oh, a day or two. Gingerly, careful not to smear any bat guano on
the greasy, parchment-wrapped kipper, he set his groceries down on a plush
armchair and began to follow the trail of devastation to its source.
What was it? Had a summoned fire imp escaped and burned a path through his
loft? No. The trail he followed was made of empty bottles. Potions. Here was
one of detect invisibility, there, of enlargement. Right next to it was
reduction -- well, that was good, at least . . .
He gingerly picked his way through his flat. The trail led to the bathroom. In
the tub, snuggled in a blanket, was a little ball of fuzz.
"No!" The wizard swore again, dove for the fuzz, and grabbed the nearly-empty
bottle from its mouth. It separated with a wet "pop!" He lifted the fuzz by the
scruff of its neck, brought it close to his face, and hissed out, "You -- are
-- not -- allowed -- to -- have -- potions."
Stars exploded behind his eyes as the fuzzball extended a paw and swatted him.
Reeling, he dropped it. It landed on its feet and looked up at him, burbling
contentedly.
Grimacing, the old man staggered over to the tub and picked up the empty bottle
he'd discarded there, the fuzzball's most recent conquest. "Giant Strength,"
read the label.
"Of course," he muttered to himself, wearily closing his eyes.
Fuzzball Foundling
Added Thu Feb 23 06:39:16 2017 at level 14:
The story started one brisk autumn evening when the old wizard found a newborn
kitten wrapped in a blanket in a dingy little alleyway. Had it been a human
child, he no doubt would have taken it to an orphanage and dropped it off with
some distaste, not being overly fond of babies. But wizards and cats go a long
way back, and he had some thought of training it to be his familiar. Besides,
like many grumpy old men, he'd long had a soft spot for animals. Home with him
the kitten came.
As it grew, he noticed something . . . off. It grew too quickly, for one thing,
and its developing proportions seemed just a little bit wrong. Almost humanoid,
in fact. He hurriedly walked to the library and checked out a book on felar
anatomy. He'd never seen a felar newborn before, but dammit if they didn't look
just like kittens. And dammit if he didn't have one in his house.
"Shit," said the wizard. As with babies, he'd never been overly fond of
swearing, but the word seemed appropriate now. It would soon become his
favorite word, to be said many more times.
He dashed home, fully intending to grab the "kitten" and make that trip to the
orphanage that he should have made weeks ago. The fuzzball was sitting on his
bed, right where he'd left it, warbling and dabbing at the toy mouse he'd given
to it earlier. It stared at him with the huge, mad, dark eyes that are the
province of kittens everywhere.
o_o said the fuzz.
-_- said the old man.
^_^ said the fuzz.
The old wizard grimaced and stomped his foot. Of course the goddamn felar was
staying.
Wherein Retzi Causes More Problems
Added Thu Feb 23 07:20:00 2017 at level 16:
As you're surely realizing by now, the old mage had a good heart. But he was an
elderly bachelor. He didn't know the first thing about raising a child. He
played with the fuzzball every day, and cuddled it at night, and spoke to it
often in the hopes that it would learn to talk (thinking, perhaps, that one day
he might even teach it magic), but he was a working wizard, and much of the
time he was away on call. Further -- and this is a privilege of elderly,
absentminded wizards -- there were many times when he *was* there, but his mind
wasn't, skipping merrily through the dusty pages of some old book. And when the
old man was gone, the fuzzball explored.
First he got into the potions drawer.
Then he got into the whiskey drawer.
Then he got into the potions drawer again.
The wizard installed a lock on both drawers. He reinforced it magically. He
stacked six heavy tomes in front of them. Somehow, every time he came home, the
books were displaced, the locks open, drawers open, fuzzball inside, empty
bottles everywhere. To this day he still wonders how.
Astoundingly, none of the substances seemed to be hurting the felar cub very
much. Eventually he resigned himself to the fact that, every few weeks, he was
going to lose much of his stash of alcohol and potions. He settled for always
ensuring that the potions of enlargement and reduction would be placed right
next each other, so that he'd never come home and find his home destroyed by a
bear-sized cub, or, gods forbid, accidentally step on one the size of a mouse.
The next day, after trying and failing for three hours to retrieve a
flight-imbued felar from his rafters, he decided that every third potion would
be one of cancellation, and for a time this solution (haha! get it?) worked
surprisingly well.
But as it turned out, potions and whiskey were not the only potent substances
in the wizard's house.
Do Dumb Things Faster with More Energy
Added Thu Feb 23 12:39:09 2017 at level 16:
The old man was sitting at a rickety wooden table in his attic. Sipping a cup
of coffee that had long since gone cold, he traced the lines of the spell in
his book. "Pebble to boulder," he muttered to himself. "Pebble. Boulder. Pebble
to boulder."
Straightening up, he narrowed his eyes at the practice dummy across the room.
Extending his hands --
"Waaaaaaaurgh," went the felar cub next to him.
The old man's nostrils flared. "How did you get up here again?" he asked
testily.
"Bap bap bap bap bap," said the cub.
"Shouldn't you be able to talk by now?" said the old man. The cub (which he'd
mentally named Bear, from its passing resemblance to a very large teddy bear)
was more than two years old. As mentioned, he didn't know the first thing about
children, but he was pretty sure it should be talking at this point -- wasn't
that how it worked?
He nudged Bear to the side with his shoe and narrowed his eyes at the practice
dummy. Extending his hands, he intoned, "Pebble to boulder."
The dummy reeled as the boulder impacted its shoulder. The spell had gone off
perfectly. Suddenly nervous, he checked for the felar. It was still by his
foot. He sighed in relief.
"Pibble!" said Bear. "Pibble taboller!"
The old man frowned. "What, so you can talk after all?" Closing his eyes, he
mentally began to review the runes to cast conglaciation when he was distracted
by a loud slurping sound.
"Yes," said the cub. "Yes. Yes I can talk. Talk talk talk." Slurrrrrp.
Startled, the old man's eyes flew open. Somehow, in the five or so seconds his
eyes had been closed, Bear had noiselessly made his way onto the table, where
he had already drained the wizard's cold cup of coffee. For a second the wizard
fumed inwardly, wondering where his good sense had been when he'd brought this
child-animal into the house. Then his eyes grew thoughtful.
"Well, NOW you can," he said quietly. "I wonder." He slid the mug off of Bear's
soggy muzzle. It was going to have to be thrown out, some part of him mused to
himself, god knows what kind of filth is in a felar's mouth, but he didn't
really mind. Hoisting the squirming cub over his shoulder, he turned and strode
back downstairs, pausing in the kitchen to grab a sack of coffee beans.
"Care for a second cup?"
"These are Udgaardian River Toads"
Added Fri Feb 24 08:58:39 2017 at level 16:
"Apprentice Retzi, enter and approach."
The door creaked open and the fuzzy youth stepped into the office. The walk to
the Guildmaster's desk had never seemed so long to him before. It is hard for
humans to read felar expressions, but the Guildmaster was hoping he looked
suitably abashed.
The Guildmaster made a small gesture. "Sit." He pulled out a sheaf of parchment
from a serious-looking red envelope on his desk. "Apprentice Retzi, I have here
. . . what?"
The youth finished clearing his throat. He clasped his paws together
apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just that . . . I prefer Bear."
"Apprentice Bear, then. Wait, what? No. I'm not calling you that. I have here
two --"
"It's just what I was called growing up," said Retzi in a mild voice.
"I HAVE HERE TWO SEPARATE COMPLAINTS. One from Journeyman Kent, who says that
at five o'clock this morning he caught you in the laboratory, releasing ...
well, we'll get to that in a minute. He says that when caught, you blew bubbles
at him, and 'tried to hit him with a dead fish.' Do you recall these events?"
"They probably happened, sir."
"The second complaint is from your bunkmate, Apprentice Evensdale. Evensdale
says that at five fifteen this morning you stormed into your room making noises
like a barn animal, that you blew bubbles at him, and then hit him with a dead
fish. These are direct quotes. Do you recall these events?"
Retzi chewed his lip. "I'm sure some part of me does."
"Where did you get the dead fish?"
"I couldn't rightly say, sir. But I think it was alive at the time."
"You think it was alive -- dammit, I don't care. That's not the issue here. The
question is, was it appropriate to hit anyone with any kind of fish?"
Retzi screwed up his face. "No?" he ventured.
"It was not." The Guildmaster reached down, lifted up a tightly-latched wooden
box from the floor and plunked it on his desk. Two sides were dotted with
airholes and a faint croaking emanated from within. He drummed his fingers on
the top.
"Recognize this box?" he asked nastily. Retzi blinked, saying nothing.
"These," said the Guildmaster, "are Udgaardian river toads. You haven't studied
them yet, but I believe you made their acquaintance this morning." He raised
his eyebrows, his expression carefully blank. "They are fast. Their slime is
very corrosive, very destructive. And interestingly, it renders them almost
impervious to magic, which makes them a very interesting case study for the
guild of shapeshifters. There are currently four hundred and sixty-six of them
in here. Do you know how I know that exact number?"
"No sir."
The Guildmaster's fist slammed down on the desk. "Because after you released
them, WE COULDN'T CATCH THEM WITH MAGIC!" he roared. "We had to catch EVERY
LAST ONE OF THEM BY HAND! WHAT, APPRENTICE, WHAT, DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR
YOURSELF? Explain your actions! Now!"
cont'd
"River Toads" PART DEUX
Added Fri Feb 24 10:27:10 2017 at level 16:
His paw shaking slightly, Retzi reached into his tunic pocket. He brought out a
tiny brown bean and placed it on the desk. Eyes narrowing, the Guildmaster took
it.
"What is this? . . . A coffee bean?"
"Yessir. It's an affliction. Since -- well, since forever. When I drink coffee,
I'm fine. When I don't, I get a little, um, dumb. I do things without thinking
and then later I can't remember them." Retzi sighed. "Normally I drink it every
eight hours, but my stipend's been running low, and I've been stretching it ...
a little ... thin."
The Guildmaster leaned back in his chair. A painter could have tried for months
and failed to capture his precise expression, but unbeknownst to him, it was
one that was very familiar to Retzi, having been painted on the face of his
foster father -- the old wizard -- many a time.
"Are you bullshitting me right now?" he said.
"Beg pardon, sir, but no."
"You realize you're going to be scrubbing every floor in this damn building for
six months."
"I thought you might say that, sir."
The Guildmaster breathed out through his nose. "So you're telling me that, so
long as we keep you amply supplied with coffee beans, you're fine? And nothing
like this will ever, EVER happen again?"
"Yessir." Retzi hesitated. He chewed his lip, struggling internally. "But with
respect, sir, don't you think there's sometimes a place in life for mischief?
For chaos?"
"What are you even talking about?"
Retzi leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. "Let's say, for
instance, you did something bad and an authority figure yelled at you. And
maybe you were mostly wrong and they were mostly right, but you didn't like
that he yelled, and also he assigned you detention which you didn't want to do,
so in full possession of your senses you still decided to do something stupid
and oh screw it."
The Guildmaster blanched and reached for the wooden box, but Retzi was faster.
He lunged for the latch. The last thing he saw was the perfect "o" of the
Guildmaster's mouth, just before he, his office, and everything in it, were
completely covered by four hundred and sixty-six slimy Udgaardian river toads.
After all, there were other shapeshifter's guilds in Thera.
Filling in the Details
Added Fri Feb 24 10:38:23 2017 at level 16:
And with that, you probably have a reasonable idea of Retzi's personality. But
maybe a few bits could do with some explaining.
WHY SPHERE MAGIC?
1. Because there isn't a Sphere Coffee.
2. Retzi could also reasonably have been Sphere Chaos, but Magic fits too.
In various ways much of his personality comes from his happy, but utterly
discipline-free & somewhat neglectful upbringing. One way that didn't make it
into the role yet, because Retzi isn't aware of it himself, is that (on top of
his other obvious addiction) he is addicted to magic itself, the result of
carelessly being allowed to get into potion after potion as a developing child.
Such potions are safe to drink in moderation, but they are not meant to be
mixed or taken chronically, nor are they safe for the very young. Various
magical reagents have seeped into his bones, skin, brain, and very cells. This
is responsible for his talent with magic (which manifested very young, to the
old wizard's delight) and for some of his more oddball personal tendencies.
It's probably not going to come up, as since taking up magic he hasn't gone
more than a day without casting SOMETHING on himself, but if he detoxed for
more than a week, at this point it'd probably kill him.
As he grows he may become more aware of this aspect of himself.
He isn't addicted to them, but his early tendency to seek out things and put
them in his mouth has led to a thorough appreciation for whiskey, beer, tea,
fish, noodles, and many other edible and not-so-edible substances. He's happy
to speak about these at great length.
WHY CHAOTIC EVIL?
Cats are cute and everybody loves them, but one hundred percent of them are
chaotic evil. Literally one hundred percent. If you disagree, try growing up in
a house with six of them.
Retzi isn't a cat, but he was raised like one -- literally, at first -- so he
turned out like one. He isn't IMMORAL so much as AMORAL. He's chaotic evil in
the sense that he has no internal moral compass, nothing is off-limits, but
that doesn't mean he delights in causing misery. He's like an animal in that
way (and hey, what's his guild ...?) He regards this animalistic "free to do
anything" philosophy as the purest state of being and might even try to
proselytize it every now and then.
RELICS OF HIS UPBRINGING
The old wizard is still alive (and will be for some time if the spells continue
to hold). Retzi visits him often. The old wizard is aware what a monster he's
created, but he loves him anyway.
Retzi still prefers his old nickname.
ANYTHING ELSE?
I really didn't think this role would turn into a novel, but it sure did.
Thanks if you read the whole thing. The next chapter will be a summary.
Role too long? ** SPARKNOTES ** (very short)
Added Fri Feb 24 10:43:42 2017 at level 16:
> Retzi was a foundling, adopted by a wizard who drank way too much coffee
> Retzi is the world's worst coffee addict and turns into a monster when he
doesn't drink it
> He also often got into the wizard's potions and now is addicted to magic
itself
> He has a cat's personality: selfish, mischievous, gluttonous, and sweet when
he feels like it
> He prefers the nickname "Bear"
Congratulations! You are now ready to interact with Retzi.
PK Wins
Feb 26, 2017|Lv 21|The Galadon Sewers|Imarguin vs 1: [21] Retzi (100%, slice)
Feb 26, 2017|Lv 21|The North Road|Ababyaq vs 1: [21] Retzi (100%, bite)
Feb 26, 2017|Lv 24|Hamsah Mu'tazz|Mdorl vs 2: [24] Retzi (0%), [25] Dorgo (100%, slash)
PK Deaths
Feb 23, 2017|Lv 16|A Virgin Forest|vs 1: [14] Jarafu (100%, oppressive heat)
Feb 26, 2017|Lv 21|The Eastern Road|vs 1: [20] Khorlim (100%, cleave)
Feb 26, 2017|Lv 24|Silverpine Road|vs 2: [28] Mdorl (43%, suction), [25] Dorgo (56%)
Feb 26, 2017|Lv 24|Thar-Acacia|vs 1: [25] Kehdpel (100%, burning, weeping sores)
Feb 27, 2017|Lv 25|The Galadon Sewers|vs 1: [27] Khorthel (100%, caustic smash)
Mar 1, 2017 |Lv 30|Hamsah Mu'tazz|vs 1: [27] Kehdpel (100%, punch)
Mar 2, 2017 |Lv 30|Galadon|vs 1: [30] Cthadrra (100%, magic missile)