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Templewick

Snake in the grass

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by CrashQueen

Description

Image

Theme Song: I'm An Alcoholic- Dent May & His Magnificent Ukelele

Maximillian Templewick is a naga morph. Starting from the tip of his head he has shaggy very light blonde hair. His skin is the color of cream with pink running in his cheeks and tip of his nose. His eyes are snake-like in that they have no whites, but are a pinkish brown, with only a slight color change indication where iris ends and pupil begins. Unlike his snakier brethren, his pupils are round as opposed to slitted. He also has peachy gold discoloration in a band across his face and blotches down his arms, back, and chest. He's somewhat built, but still carries some fat around the belly of his human half.

Being an albino, Templewick's eyes aren't the best and he typically wears thick glasses to correct his vision. He also has a tendency to stare and if he doesn't focus long enough, his left eye will fail to align with the other, giving him a lazy eye. It usually happens when he's tired or drunk, which is pretty much all the time.

From his waist down his body is that of a burmese python, thick, muscular, and powerful. His tail alone is about 27 feet long and will take up a good deal of space if he allows it to, but he's usually polite and tries to coil up as much as he can without crushing things.

He's good at crushing things.

Personality

Templewick is relatively docile and can find the fun in life if he searches hard enough. He's typically wasted about 24/7. He's not a mean drunk in particular, and much more of an affectionate, sleepy sort of creature on the sauce. But he becomes dreadfully clumsy and impulsive, so don't try to accept any hugs if he offers them. And stay WELL AWAY if he mentions anything about being hungry.

His sentence is over, and Templewick slithers the streets of Wing City as a free man.

History

After his sentence was lifted, Templewick quit his pencil pushing job and instead enjoys a life of leisure with his trust-fundie boyfriend, but his new passion is prize fighting in Wing City's little not so best kept secret Fight Club in the library basement.

So begins...

Templewick's Story

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Templewick slipped his way into the bar and up to the counter, perching on a stool while winding the rest of his length around it and the stool next to it. He looked like he had a rough day and he rested on an elbow, waving his arm at the bartender. "Two G and Ts. Snap."

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The snake downed the first gin before slamming the glass on the bar. He blinked at Odgerel and gave a fangy grin, "Put it on my tab, I'm going to be racking up a pretty check tonight. Had a bad day, mate. Don't worry, I'll pay it-" he injected when he caught sight of the No credit sign.
He glanced around the bar at other people, shifting his coils, his scales making a whispering sound as they slid around the stool and bar.

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"Whoa! What is your problem! I have the cash, but it seems a bit pointless to be paying it chunks at a time when I can pay it all at the end of the night." Logic! He pulled his tailtip away from the rude woman and coddled it. "But if you're going to be a twat about it, here are your credits." He slapped the money down on the counter and rolled his eyes before tanking the other gin and tonic.

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Templewick glanced at Odgerel with an odd look. "Not even close to done yet. Whiskey sour, please." He fully intended to get drunk as hell, but considering he was, in nicest terms, gigantic, it would take him a good while. Thankfully he received a generous amount of cash from an unknown source. Or so he claimed.

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The snake had settled down some, setting out a little more money before relaxing into his drink. He glanced at Odgerel and sighed. "Sorry for the snapping...it's just...you know. The holiday blues." He waved a hand dismissively. "Laid off from my job, right before Christmas...sucks."

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How it was that a snake had made it through the snow without freezing was a thing of curiosity, Temp was an odd specimen indeed, running internally on the fires of Hell, he was, at length, a several millennia-distant nephew of the Morningstar himself.
He drank his whiskey and put more money out. "I suppose you don't specialize in the unusual fare, eh? I know you serve demons so...could I trouble you for a platter of fried rats?"

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"At least you have it." He smiled back. He glanced around at the other people sitting at the bar and lifted his glass to them in greeting. He then picked up Cerce's exclamation and snorted in reply. "You ain't the only one, sister."

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"I thought that was illegal? Or maybe I heard wrong. I am already on thin ice police-record wise, getting tangled up in the black market wouldn't be the best career choice." He tapped his fingers on the bar nervously. "I'm a cubicle jockey, naturally. If I could find a job like that again that'd be the smoothest transition."

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"Thank you. I probably haven't looked hard enough, really. The cold makes me a bit sluggish." He set out more money. "Another gin and tonic, please." He flicked his tail tip a bit, studying Cerce with his unusual pink eyes. His type were typically of a darker coloration, he just had the unfortunate stroke of being an albino.

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"Sorry!" He looked away. "I have a terrible...staring...tendency...Snake." He fluttered his eyelids several times before coughing and digging a nail into the wooden bar while he tilted back the new drink.

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"I never really thought about it...Oh and m'name's Templewick...Klaus Templewick."

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Templewick slithered into the bar and coils himself around two stools before perching in a 'sitting' position on one. He seems far more cheery this evening. he placed his money down with a grin. "A hot toddy, barkeep!"

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"Well, I'd fix it myself, but I somehow think that's a bit frowned upon," the snake replied, blinking his pink eyes at Derthy.

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Templewick stared at Derthy, trying to determine whether they were pulling his metaphorical legs or not. He paused at the sound of scales slipping across the wooden floor. "...."

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Templewick heaved himself over the bar to fix his own drink.

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The large snakeman glanced up from where he was stirring honey into his drink. "Hmmm? Are we really that uncommon? I must be incredibly oblivious..."

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Templewick tilted his head. "Hmmmm. I must have been too wrapped up in my little cubicle to notice. Being an office jockey does tend to suck all curiosity and life out of you. Can I fix you a drink? I'm no bartender, but I'm pretty handy at a party..."
He finished fixing his own hot toddy and made a great effort to heave his yellow coils back over the bar to the stool he originally wrapped himself around.
"My heritage? It's.....old blood. Let's just say that. Old blood from down below, if you know what I mean."

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"Yeah. Some while back somebody shagged a lamia and well....a couple centuries later you end up with this." He was fat. Or at least his tail was fat. His human half seemed to be well taken-care of, but there was no denying that he could have been thinner.
He slid a glass of water down to Samantha before sipping his hot toddy. "So what brings you to someplace like Gambit's? The atmosphere?"

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Templewick perched at the bar, coiled around his usual two stools, sipping a mug of hot tea. He had to slip away due to obligations, and thus missed out on a night with the only other snakekind he'd seen in a long while, and he was kicking himself for it. Y'know, figuratively, being that there were no legs to kick with, just a big fat yellow tail.

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A snort and grumble indicated that there was more in the vacant bar than initially thought. It must have been a good, or maybe a real rough, night for Templewick, considering he'd passed out in a booth and in his sleep managed to slide underneath it and wedge his full 30 feet into it as well. It was a crick in his lower...lower spine that woke him up in this position.
"Ennngh? Where am I?"
The snakeman adjusted his glasses and grappled with the floor, slowly trying to unstuck himself from where he'd wound up, slowly oozing from underneath the table and praying to god nobody would be noticing his failure.