A cast of characters

Bloomi’ ‘eck, that what I say. Have a cast of characters that is diverse and interesting. No duplications, mind you.

How many? you ask.

Well, there’s our hero (protagonist), his enemy (antagonist), the companion/sidekick, the joker, the love interest, the sage/mentor…and any more you care to name. It’s like the question: How long is a piece of string? If it’s too short, it doesn’t do the job; if it’s too long, the length is a darn nuisance.

Then there’s the minor characters and those that simply appear in a scene or two. And the redshirts.

Can all these people really be different? Perhaps one should give them all a slightly different hair colour.

* * *

Edmund came into the room. He wore a battered suit of armour. His pale-green hair stood up in ill sorted spikes, as casual as the wild grasses of the tundra. He smiled. Or at least attempted to. It came out more like a silent snarl.

“Greetings, Protagonist, I’ve just returned from the north.” He did a double take. “What have you done to your hair?”

Protagonist self-consciously raised a hand to finger the dreadlocks. The witchdoctor had insisted in dying his hair with henna, so now it was the colour of mahogany. “Just keeping up with the latest fashion,” Prog explained. “Do you like it?”

“Well, it’s definitely different, if that’s what you’re asking.” Edmund tried to put some enthusiasm into his voice but could still hear the negative vibes he had about Protagonist’s new hairstyle. It might be different, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t derivative and a very bad cliche. There was no getting away from that.

“It’s the author,” Protagonist explained in a lame sort of voice. “He’s trying to make us all different.”

“Typical. Doesn’t he realise different comes from what we do, how we talk, and behave?” He swished his sword out of its scabbard and waved it in the air. “For King and Country.”

“Err, do you mind putting away that overblown cocktail stick and telling me what news from the north,” Protagonist suggested.

“Oh, if you say so.” Edmund sheathed his sword. “Now I’m just like you.”

“I’m not wearing any armour.”

“Not now, silly, I can see that. What I meant to say is that apart from our hair and clothes, we are exactly alike. You jive to the left. I jive to the left. It’s so boring.”

“What can we do about it, then?”

Protagonist sat down on the convenient chair near him and rested his elbow on his knee and supported his head on his hand. He remained silent looking absentmindedly at the floor.

Eventually, bored at waiting, Edmund prompted, “Well?”

“We’ve got to do things differently.”

“Ah, well, maybe I should take your place. That would be different.”

"Protagonist got to his feet. He gave Edmund a come on gesture. “You try.”