Differences

This shows you the differences between two versions of the page.

--- ec:wizzy_the_wizard [2026/07/01 20:29] – external edit 127.0.0.1
+++ ec:wizzy_the_wizard [2026/07/04 07:44] (current) – external edit 127.0.0.1
@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
 = Wizzy the Wizard
-**Master of Magic**, proprietor of "Wizard Stuff" on Moss Street, just south of the market square. //(Silas wishes it on record that the name of the establishment is not his doing.)//
+**"Master of Magic,"** proprietor of "Wizard Stuff" on Moss Street, just south of the market square.
-He is human, near as I can tell. Middling height, middling years, a beard that manages to be present without being memorable, and hair the brown of nothing in particular. He wears a robe. It is, yes, a wizard's robe -- pointed hat and all, the very thing a child would draw if you said the word "wizard" and handed them one crayon. Take every picture you have ever formed of a wizard, remove from it anything worth remarking upon, and you arrive at Wizzy.
+The sign says **Wizard Stuff**. It is being generous to call this place a guild, for it is little more than a desk in an office with some office supplies. Inside sits Wizzy. That is the name. Not Wizzael the Thrice-Bound, not Wizzimar of the Ashen Tower. Just Wizzy the Wizard. The kindest and only accurate account anyone has managed of the man himself is that he is "a goofy looking wizard." Not what I expected at all.
-I have given a woman who runs a general store the better part of a page, and a dwarf who bends steel a page more, and thought each of them well earned. Then I crossed Moss Street to do the same for the wizard, and I have sat here with a dry pen for the better part of an hour.
+He speaks, when he must, in a flat and level line, as though each sentence were a coin he resents spending. Nothing moves him. Tell him you have slain a beast and he says "good for the beast." Tell him the world is ending and he says "sounds like a lot." In a town packed to the rafters with people convinced they are the hero of some grand tale, Wizzy is the one soul who has plainly, profoundly, and permanently declined the role. He is the straight man at the center of everyone else's saga, and he would like you to wrap it up.
-The sign says **Wizard Stuff**. The room -- if I am to be generous and call it a guild -- is set down in the town rolls as "wizard guild. what did you expect." I have read it three times. There is no capital letter and there is no full stop, because the man could not be troubled to finish his own sentence about his own life's work. And inside sits Wizzy. That is the name. Not Wizzael the Thrice-Bound, not Wizzimar of the Ashen Tower. **Wizzy. The Wizard.** The kindest and only accurate account anyone has managed of the man himself is that he is "a goofy looking wizard. not what you expected."
+Here is what keeps me at this desk. I cannot for the life of me decide whether Wizzy is the single laziest soul ever to hold a spellbook, or the greatest wizard who has ever lived, in hiding. Whether he is a man who //truly// commands the arts, or perhaps nothing more than a clown filled with lazy bravado. Ellie polishes her counter. Gorin braids his beard. Perhaps the truth is, real power cannot be bothered -- perhaps it's very potency beguiles with a simple and direct nature, with no need to impress? Perhaps underneath his idiotic appearance, he is the greatest wielder of magic since.. since... Garaldor the Crystal-Minded?
-He speaks, when he must, in a flat and level line, as though each sentence were a coin he resents spending. Nothing moves him. Tell him you have slain a beast and he says "neat." Tell him the world is ending and he says "sounds like a lot." In a town packed to the rafters with people convinced they are the hero of some grand tale, Wizzy is the one soul who has plainly, profoundly, and permanently declined the role. He is the straight man at the center of everyone else's saga, and he would like you to wrap it up.
+So I leave the entry unfinished, with nothing much to write. Go to Moss Street. Buy your scrolls and learn your spells from him -- he is, whatever else, the only one in Mosgaard who will teach them, if he can be bothered enough to do so.
-Here is what keeps me at this desk. I cannot for the life of me decide whether Wizzy is the single laziest soul ever to hold a spellbook, or whether a man who //truly// commanded the arts would see any reason at all to dress them up. Ellie polishes her counter. Gorin braids his beard. Perhaps real power cannot be bothered -- perhaps it buys itself a stupid name and a bad hat and a monotone and dares you to laugh. I watched him sell a scroll of identify with one hand while every candle in that miserable room guttered out and relit itself, all at once, and he did not so much as glance at them. He looked, if anything, mildly put out that they had made the effort. That unsettled me more than any wyvern ever has.
-So I leave the entry unfinished, which he would no doubt take as a professional courtesy. Go to Moss Street. Buy your scrolls. Learn your first spells from him -- he is, whatever else, the only one in Mosgaard who will teach them. And do not, whatever you do, ask him to prove anything. On the slim chance that he can, and the far slimmer chance he can be bothered.
 == Sayings
-Things Wizzy says, in the same flat voice, such as they are:
+Things Wizzy says, in the same flat voice, often while not looking up from his work, such as they are:
-* "Welcome to Wizard Stuff. That's the whole greeting. I'm not building to anything."
-* "You want to learn magic. Sure. It's mostly reading. Everyone's disappointed by that part. You'll be disappointed in about ten seconds."
-* "Scroll of identify. One silver. It identifies things. I don't know what else you want from me."
-* "Fireball? No. You'd set your hair on fire and then I'd have to watch that happen. Hard pass."
-* //(to a hero mid-speech about destiny)// "Wow. Sounds like a you thing."
-* //(if anyone remarks on the name)// "It's short for Wizzy. ...Cool talk."
-* //(quietly, to no one, as the door shuts)// "Not what you expected. ...Good."
+* "Welcome to Wizard Stuff. Buy something."
+* "You want to learn magic? Sure, show you a trick. Oh wait, is that a coin behind your ear? No, wait, It's a rejection letter."
+* "Scroll of identify? One silver. It identifies things. I don't know where you people keep coming from."
+* "Scroll of home, one silver. Scroll of sethome, ten. One sends you home, the other decides where home is. Past level ten it's the only free ride you're getting. You're welcome."
+* "Fireball? I've got some fireballs right here, behind the counter."
+* "You're looking for an an amulet and a staff? What game do you think you're playing?"
+* //(if anyone remarks on the name)// "It's short for Wizzy. Good talk."
+* //(quietly, to no one, as the door shuts)// "Next!"