Froggacuda ProFile

Posted: November 1, 1998 in Writing
Tags: , , ,

May I humbly introduce the Froggacuda. He is a most dilligent and faithful worker. Since signing on to AOL, he has been frequenting a tavern of no ill repute known as the Red Dragon Inn, where I hear his impeccable bartending skills have come in handy. I have known this ambidextrous amphibian for many moons, and his skill with his hands and with his nimble tongue is nigh legendary. Hopefully, this biographical ProFile will shed some additional light on the legerdemain of the notorious Froggacuda.

The Froggacuda was magically created in the mystical and humorous realm of Orkland (no, not Oakland) by an insane and evil Elf Priest of Kali, the Black Earth Mother of Destruction. Mangous Ye, for that was the name of the cleric, was a notorious drunkard and dabbler in the arcane arts of certain Bookes which are better left in the Special Texts sections of the most exclusive libraries.

Owing several hundred gold pieces in library fees anyways, and after an unusually intense drinking bout across the street in Rumble’s Tavern with Maldrik the Rabid (a Chaos Dwarf), Mangous Ye embarked upon an incantation that was part theory from the Necronomicon of the Mad Arab Alhazred, part daemonaical prayers to his evil Goddess, part insane lust to create the ultimate Navy S.E.A.L., and part drunken stupor. Only rumors can be referenced to what exactly went on in Mangous Ye’s cramped and cluttered rental room at the only inn in Gnatspit, the Home of the Whopper, and these range in believability from the probable to the ridiculous.

The general gist of the matter went like this: Mangous Ye retired to his quarters a little after seven in the evening to meditate on the difficulties he might encounter upon attempting to take over the world. He toyed with the idea of a Frogg as a base life form for his “ultimate warrior”, Froggs being rough, tough and amphibious. After hastily culling several recipes from communing with Kali and opening the Necronomicon to random pages, he lit a small fire in the middle of the floor and drew several thaumaturgic circles of various black magic disciplines around it, roasted a Frogg Egg to the point of hatching, and then proceeded to infuse it with spells and magicks of a horrible and blasphemous nature.

In his glee and intoxication, Mangous Ye read every piece of literature he had in his room to his creation during the process. Some say that he had forgotten that he had mistaken the “Mr. Boston’s Bartender’s Guide” at the tavern for his spellbook and hadn’t gotten around to returning it (why would he — he’s evil), and it was on page three that the Egg started to glow a noxious green. Mangous, grinning insanely ear to ear, quickly read the rest of the manual to the Egg and, realizing that his incantation were actually working, he consulted the Pnakotic Manuscripts. Reading something that may or may not be within those horrifying pages, he teleported the Egg to several random planes in quick succession. At this point, the interstellar wind which naturally accompanies such magicks blew several items along with the Egg: the Boston Guide, a copy of Grimmtooth’s Faerie tales, the contents of Mangous Ye’s flagon (a very rich Illithid Dark-Side-of-the-Moon double bock lager), a small figurine representing his other idol of worship, Godzilla, and his pet barracuda “The Brain”. The magicks worked something like the telepods in the 1986 remake of “The Fly” (Geena Davis/Jeff Goldblum), fusing all of the elements into one creation: The Froggacuda. The crack of thunder that accompanied the return of the Egg to the Prime Material Plane and Orkland blew the roof off of the cluttered room and knocked Mangous Ye senseless.

Upon finding himself fully grown, the augmented Frogg found himself to be quite different from his Eggmates (Froggs lay 2000-5000 Eggs at one time). Standing 6’5” tall and around 200 lbs., he knew he wasn’t going to be recognizeable to Mom anymore. His skin was a yellowish green, his eyes Frogglike, set on the sides of his large head; his large mouth was elongated, 50% Frogg and 50% barracuda — including the latter’s wicked teeth. His back sported a nifty row of sharp plates like that of Godzilla. His hands were fully functional, the fingers were webbed and tipped with thick talons. Ditto with the feet, which were extraordinarily large. His torso was barrel-shaped but powerful; his skin was slightly moist but not, as some would imagine, slimy or oily. He had no tail, having gone through the Taddpole stage in the blink of an eye, but sported gills on the sides of his thick neck. His hide was tough and sleek, and he suddenly was struck with the irresistable urge to serve people alcohol in a relaxed and merry environment.

Leaving the inn by way of the roof, and leaving an unconscious Mangous Ye slumped under the worktable, unnoticed, the Froggacuda crossed the street and served his first Ale — to none other than Maldrik the Rabid. Rumble, the half-Ogre owner of the tavern, welcomed the Froggacuda, knowing quite well how prejudice works against persons who stick out in society, and gave him an apron and a job barbacking. The rest is common history: after several years of tending bar in one of the most popular haunts in the Multiverse, the Frogg scraped up enough gold for a Magical MacIntosh and a dedicated phone line. And now, he is online, hoping to secure a position bartending at the Red Dragon Inn. My wishes are with him, for he is a most honest and faithful Frogg, dedicated to the entertainment and service of his patrons.

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