BeeGeeTheImp
Villager
Name: BeeGeeTheImp
Nickname/Alias: "BG" or "BeeGee"
Age: A foundling, so my birthday is unknown. I am somewhere between 18 and 29 years old.
Gender: Male. Although, among imps, is mostly a matter of semantics.
Race: Imp (not the mean, tricky kind ... the cute, clumsy, foolish kind)
Height: I'm as tall as you, but my feet don't reach all the way to the ground.
Weight: Depends on my mood.
Hair: Nope.
Eyes: Two. One on each side of my prominent nose, which is usually ignored when folks see my huge ears.
Skin: I know imps are supposed to be green, but I am pink. And not by choice ... but that's a story for only my closest friends.
Identifying Marks: I don't understand the question.
Appearance: I look exactly like most other imps, except for my pink skin. We can tell each other apart, but I can't explain precisely why that is the case. The words don't translate. Sorry.
I have learned, thanks to the subtleties of physical magic inheritted by every imp, to disquise myself and blend in with others. I am particularly good at impersonating a chicken.
Strengths: I am fiercely loyal to my friends, but don't like to cuddle. I guess it has something to do with being on my own so early in life. I never had a chance to bond with my parents, and my best friend was taken from me too soon.
Weaknesses and fears: Abandonment seems to be my main concern. As a result, I tend to hoard things and never seem satisfied that I have done enough to prepare for the next disaster. Maybe that's why I'm always tinkering with things, trying to improve them somehow.
Religion and cults: I saw one once. The nomads worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. They sacrificed a chicken to one of their gods, and it gave me a bad impression of religion in general. Better to try to live in harmony with Nature than tempt the wrath of an ambivilent and powerful being, is my motto.
Profession: Jack of all trades, master of none. I'm a handiman of sorts, a tinkerer. I spent some time at court as a Fool, but that trade only lasts as long as the laughing continues. I barely got out alive.
Backstory: Okay, so I'm a foundling. By that I mean that I was found wandering in the wilderness. The band of nomads that found me had never seen an imp before, so they thought I was a baby pigman and decided to keep me with their livestock. My first friend was a chicken, named Buck Ox, and though our time together was short, the memory of it will last for the rest of my impish lives.
After Buck became dinner for the nomads, I bid his siblings good morrow and returned to the wilderness. I spent much of my youth foraging by day and hiding in dirt holes by night, learning survival skills at the knee of Mother Nature and hand of Father Time. Over the years, though I remained homeless, I came to call the forest my home, the sky my roof, and the grassy meadow my bed. My needs were simple and dreams complex.
My most fervent dream is that one day I will find someone who feels like family, and to spend the rest of forever trying to make them as happy as I know they will make me. Until then, I remain a foundling wanderer, an imp on a path that leads to no special place.
Nickname/Alias: "BG" or "BeeGee"
Age: A foundling, so my birthday is unknown. I am somewhere between 18 and 29 years old.
Gender: Male. Although, among imps, is mostly a matter of semantics.
Race: Imp (not the mean, tricky kind ... the cute, clumsy, foolish kind)
Height: I'm as tall as you, but my feet don't reach all the way to the ground.
Weight: Depends on my mood.
Hair: Nope.
Eyes: Two. One on each side of my prominent nose, which is usually ignored when folks see my huge ears.
Skin: I know imps are supposed to be green, but I am pink. And not by choice ... but that's a story for only my closest friends.
Identifying Marks: I don't understand the question.
Appearance: I look exactly like most other imps, except for my pink skin. We can tell each other apart, but I can't explain precisely why that is the case. The words don't translate. Sorry.
I have learned, thanks to the subtleties of physical magic inheritted by every imp, to disquise myself and blend in with others. I am particularly good at impersonating a chicken.
Strengths: I am fiercely loyal to my friends, but don't like to cuddle. I guess it has something to do with being on my own so early in life. I never had a chance to bond with my parents, and my best friend was taken from me too soon.
Weaknesses and fears: Abandonment seems to be my main concern. As a result, I tend to hoard things and never seem satisfied that I have done enough to prepare for the next disaster. Maybe that's why I'm always tinkering with things, trying to improve them somehow.
Religion and cults: I saw one once. The nomads worshipped the sun, moon, and stars. They sacrificed a chicken to one of their gods, and it gave me a bad impression of religion in general. Better to try to live in harmony with Nature than tempt the wrath of an ambivilent and powerful being, is my motto.
Profession: Jack of all trades, master of none. I'm a handiman of sorts, a tinkerer. I spent some time at court as a Fool, but that trade only lasts as long as the laughing continues. I barely got out alive.
Backstory: Okay, so I'm a foundling. By that I mean that I was found wandering in the wilderness. The band of nomads that found me had never seen an imp before, so they thought I was a baby pigman and decided to keep me with their livestock. My first friend was a chicken, named Buck Ox, and though our time together was short, the memory of it will last for the rest of my impish lives.
After Buck became dinner for the nomads, I bid his siblings good morrow and returned to the wilderness. I spent much of my youth foraging by day and hiding in dirt holes by night, learning survival skills at the knee of Mother Nature and hand of Father Time. Over the years, though I remained homeless, I came to call the forest my home, the sky my roof, and the grassy meadow my bed. My needs were simple and dreams complex.
My most fervent dream is that one day I will find someone who feels like family, and to spend the rest of forever trying to make them as happy as I know they will make me. Until then, I remain a foundling wanderer, an imp on a path that leads to no special place.
