FLYNN GWEYR

FLYNN GWEYR

I USED TO TRUST THE MEDIA TO TELL ME THE TRUTH

Flynn grew up in the main elven city. His earliest memories are of him working along side his older sister gathering plants and herbs for the small clinic his mother and father ran. They were highly sought out healers by many of the elves as their knowledge of curing ailments went back generations. It was told to him that he would one day take over the practice as his older sister had already been arranged to marry for the day she turned sixteen and move to her new husbands house a fair distance off. Flynn had no skills like his sister, often picking out the incorrect plants and suffering for it with rashes and other irritations.

His mother tried her best to teach him. However after trying for years and reaching his thirteenth birthday, he'd had enough and fled. He wasn't even initially smart enough to even bother with a horse, being as young and foolish as he was. Instead he found himself stowing away on carriages and boats, no idea where he was even headed. The idea of it both thrilled and terrified him. 

Finally, after months of an unknown journey, Flynn found himself in the peaceful town of Selphia. His interest was peaked when he discovered all of the various people living there with leader being a dragon of all things. He decided although strange, he liked it enough to try and make a life here. For the first little while he supported himself by attacking unsuspecting woolies and making off with their fur to sell. His nights were spent holed up in which ever place he could sneak himself into. However, one night he was awoken by a startled gasp and found that and elderly woman had discovered him sleeping in a little hut behind her house she used for garden tools. Flynn readied himself to run but was instead invited into her home with the promise of a warm bed and a meal.

It didn't end up being just a night. The old woman took him under her wing and raised him, teaching him of things he never knew of before. She gave him confidence in himself he never had when living home in the elven city working at a trade he was doomed to fail. She told him he was capable and could do whatever he wanted in life. And he remembered those words even when she passed four years later, leaving him a large inheritance. The elf had no prior experience of death and coping with her sudden loss changed him in a way. He stopped being so soft hearted and innocent and instead let a narcissistic wit lead him around, getting him into more than enough trouble. His coyness got him slapped, punched, and into a dozen fights in his youth. 

Then he turned twenty one. Flynn knew instantly what he wanted to do and he went right to the tavern and slammed a chunk of that inheritance on the counter. The owner was appalled but that night Flynn was the new owner. He didn't necessarily improve the tavern at first. He was clumsy about the whole idea of owning a business but quickly picked up after flipping through some books. He gave a new personality to the place and began to succeed with it. And he just kept with that.

About a year ago, he did something unexpected when a disheveled merman appeared before him. As much as he wanted to tease the man he wound up befriending him and giving him a job working at his tavern instead as a bartender. Together they helped the business succeed. And here we are.


The clouds in the sky were a nice change from the past couple days of heat that had been flooding the slums. What with all the smog and grit everywhere the place just seemed to retain whatever the sun felt like sharing. Needless to say, he hated it. Teddy was often running around, whether it be clambering up buildings to test his escape time or simply trying to get to the tavern before all the tables were taken up completely. He didn't have a lot of great shirts left to begin with so it was always frustrating to have to scrub out sweat stains after a day of too much physical movement. Such was the life of an incarnate. Not including the few who were safeguarded under their foolish parents or the ones who had intelligence enough to blend into the higher class areas. He couldn't blame them really, the Aeris district was definitely a lavish place to live and most would kill to get into it.



Teddy stretched, absently running a hand down his face. The stubble there prickled against his hand, making him momentarily regret not shaving his face before he'd left the guild that morning. He'd been in far too much of a rush to get into the black market to get his stolen goods traded before the afternoon rush started that he'd forgotten his morning routine. His pants and shirt were present at least and that was his main concern. That and the coin purse he had stashed in his pocket. He'd made about thirty two silver from a hand stitched handkerchief made of blue silk as well as a few pieces of silverware. It wasn't one of his better outings but he'd only gone up to the Orwyn district in search for valuables. He'd been lazy and it had most certainly bit him in the a**. Normally he made at least forty silver but at least he'd made enough to buy some food for some of the children in the guild and maybe buy a round or two at the tavern. A few extra new shirts couldn't hurt either.



He turned a corner, fully intent on making his way through the market to check for new wares before heading to the tavern. Although overpriced in some ways, the market tended to have better guns and other wares compared to the pilfered ones the black market sold. Teddy was a man with refined tastes when it came to his weapons. Black steel in particular was his favorite. He could never really trust some of the merchants selling them in the underground no matter how well he knew them. They claimed themselves to know fake from real but one of his first purchases from there had him thinking otherwise. He hadn't been that old when he'd gotten a new pistol. Of course after about a week of use the black started chipping off to reveal it had been painted. As angry as he had been he had taken the experience with a grain of salt and make a note to buy from the actual gunsmiths from then on.



Soon enough he found himself in the marketplace in the Vesaire district. It had it's usual hustle and bustle going on and he couldn't help but smile at it. This was one of the livelier parts in the city. And the best part being there wasn't any high class irritants to disrupt the rowdy crowds. There wasn't a whole lot of theft here either considering most of the vendors were still in the same category of those in the slums. The few people who did try to take anything were often younger and stopped before they got very far. Teddy had caught a few of them himself, scolding them for their misbehavior and giving them maybe one or two silvers to send them back to pay. Better that they learn to steal from people who can afford to lose something.



A golden flintlock caught his attention and he instantly veered off towards it. He gazed at it with a look of focus, picking it up and inspecting the engravings on it. "Didn't you just buy one last week?" Teddy looked up sheepishly. "Yes, but I don't have this particular model, Hilda." He looked at the woman in front of him and set the gun down. Hilda was the wife of the gunsmith he regularly bought from. She stood at five feet and five inches, three inches taller than himself, and had long wavy brunette hair. She often wore corsets smeared with old grease stains and large fluffed skirts with a colorful pallet of fabric sewn on in various places. He had been rather attracted to her when he was younger but he was happy she'd wound up with the gunsmith instead. "Tell Todd I said hello?" She nodded and he waved at her before continuing his way down the road to the tavern.



It was a short walk to his destination and Teddy was more than happy when he swung the large doors open. A few of the patrons gave him a wave and he gave them a large grin. "Good day men!" He greeted on his way over to the counter. "I'll have a whiskey, please." He went to slide three copper across the table then paused, pulling out another three. The bartender gave him a nod and a small smile before walking to the other end of the bar to get his drink. Daylight drinking. Definitely one of Theodore's bad habits, but not one he cared to stop indulging in.



"Ah! To hell with it! A round on me!" Needless to say the delight that erupted around him fed his ego.

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