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William Toffler

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nevermore90

Description

_________Description_________

Wylf

Gender: MaleHair Color : Brown
Age: 24Eye Color : Amber
Sexuality: HeterosexualHeight: 6'0''
Ethnicity: White/CaucasianWeight: 135
Image





_________Personality_________


Fears: Dying, starvation, being buried alive, burning, freezing, avalanches, dragons, zombies, disease.

Likes: Large dogs, stabbing implements, magics, (his own) chauvinism.

Dislikes: Being upstaged, large crowds, running.




_________History_________


Bio:


Wylf lives (sleeps and eats) on the same "Plane" or "Level of existence" that the Gambit's Bar is generally considered to be occupying. He spends more of his time, however, in the freezing, mountainous abyss of Cragynstan (referred to by other names in other languages). In Cragynstan, goblins, orcs, elves, humans, gnomes, and intelligent badgers fight each-other in an almost all-out free-for-all war over nothing in particular than a mutual dislike. The normal staple of fantastic creatures liven up the various battles-dragons melt ice caps and flood valleys, giant birds of prey swoop up whole horses-but play little major role.
Cragynstan is devoid of "Common" materials like cobalt, metals than can't be worked into tools. It has plenty of precious gems, gold, and a freak vein of silver known as "Moonstone" by the elves of (rough translation) "Holy Rock" by goblins. Iron, bronze, coal, wood, and rock are all plenty common to hold a medieval war; no guns, bombs, or tanks.
Speaking of which-the warring groups of Cragynstan have had a long-respected treaty against firearms, percussion weapons, chemical agents, or explosives. Everyone agrees it is far too unfair if a wizard or sorcerer (such as Wylf) could simply "Poof" to Gambit's, buy a nuke, "Poof" back, and end the war. I mean, where's the fun in that? There isn't any at all, and it defeats the purpose of clubbing each-other upside the head.
In addition, there's a give-and-take policy with armor. No power armor, no electronics, nothing can't be made of reasonably organic materials or such as can be found in Cragynstan. Ballistic armors, like kevlar or BDUs, have only recently (and begrudgingly) been allowed into combat. The gasmask Wylf wears is under heavy debate (and if he loses the debate he will be sentenced to a violent and humiliating death), as is his use of magically-induced chemical warfare. (He didn't produce a bomb, he did what anyone can do, so what's the problem?)

The difference between a wizard and a sorcerer is as important as it is small. A wizard, or "Book magician," reads a scroll or an ancient tomb to learn his spells. He must steady, memorize, and specialize.
A sorcerer, or "Born magician," has an innate ability he or she taps to use his or her magic. This is usually because either a powerful-enough wizard higher on the family tree had children or a dragon (or equally-magical creature) shape-shifted and had fervent child-making sessions. Wylf is of the latter (a sorcerer, not a dragon's bastard child).
Wylf is capable of spontaneously developing characteristics necessary to save Nevermore90's reputation, quite on a whim. He started to sing at perfect pitch, painted an epic battle involving tiger-dragons violently applying their sexual organs as weapons against the penguin-hating lesser-hoblins of the west Andes, and sculpted an exact 1:10 figurine of himself to full detail. Just because he can.
Those items however poofed out of Gambit's existence and into Wylf's house back in Cragystan.

So begins...

William Toffler's Story

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William Toffler sighed and took a few more spoonfuls of food before talking again. "Eh... do you really want me to?"

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William Toffler sighed and pushed his bull away. "Fine..." He sat back, staring at the cealing, and started thinking. "There was this one time... there's this plato we call 'Forefinger' because it's part of a mountain that looks like it's flicking everyone off... and because we painted a giant 'Fuck you' sign... Well hobgoblins, they're like bigger, smarter goblins, got all pissed one day, 'cause they saw it, and they were going to take it away from us..."

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William Toffler told a tale in which would-be seigers attempted to make camp... without any sort of provisions for scaling the plato. The hobgolbins sent arrows and quarries up every now and then, and eventually erected a catapult, but couldn't get up. Eventually they persuaded the great dragon Svnirbeblin to help them, and in its talon it carried a legion of monsters atop the great plato.

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William Toffler there was a giant battle, and in the end William saved the day like a gallant hero... a few bits were made up.

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William Toffler sighed. "Should I help you to bed?"

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William Toffler poofed in for the rest of his dinner, and the alcohol he'd ordered the night before but still hadn't finished.

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William Toffler poofed onto the bar, sitting cross-legged in front of Jewel. "How're you this evening, porcelain doll?" When her drank came, he picked it up and took a sip, then made a face and put it back down. "Ew. Eh, you can have that. 'TENDER! Absinthe, usual. C'mon, hurry hurry." He pulled his wallet out.

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William Toffler took the bottle that came and opened it. He took an unceremonious pull and put some quid on the table, not caring how much money he just wasted. He had a pretty strong tab accumulating from all this accidentally thrifty spending. "Fed, I see. That's not too bad." He uncrossed his legs and hopped off the counter, taking the stool next to hers. "Had a nice day?"

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William Toffler sighed. "Sorry. Y'know, I know a spell fer dealin' with those.If I didn't, I probably wouldn't drink so much." He took another swig and put the bottle on the counter. The tender collected the money and walked off to go see someone else. "You want a milkshake?"

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William Toffler pulled up the little holo-menu and put one in for himself. "What kind would you like? They've got... guato... apple... orange... chocolate... strawberry... waffleosterdamanciousberry... slumberry... chocolocka..."

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William Toffler tapped in "Chocolate" and held his hand over the enter key. "Just chocolate? You sure, lass?"

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William Toffler cocked a brow and looked at her. "Raspberry chocolate? That sounds... eh, I'll look." "Uhhhhh... y-yes. Yes they do." He added "Raspberry" and hit enter. It was deducted from his tab. "So besides being a hungover wreck, how are you?"

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William Toffler smiled slowly and looked at her. "And it has to be the one night I don't come into Gambit's randy." He took another swig of his drink. "We need to coordinate these things better."

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William Toffler 's smile became a smirk. "Hmm, I think a few minutes from now would be a great time."

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William Toffler furrowed his brows and looked at her seriously. "I don't mean to imply that you're daft, but did all of that sexual banter just go over your head?"

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William Toffler shrugged. "Lots of girls get fucked a lot before they know they're being fucked." The drinks arrived. Hers looked like tea with chocolate scoops in it. "Uh... is that edible?" He picked up his own but waited for her to drink first.

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William Toffler furrowed his brows again. "The 'ell did you just call me? 'Wifel' ? It's Wylf dammit."

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William Toffler shook his head. "I'm not above beating women." He took a slurp of milkshake rather contradictorily.

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William Toffler cocked a brow again. "Well, I'd think not. Being a zombie with the power to freeze drinks, I think I'd have a same-sex sadistic streak as well."

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William Toffler nodded. "So do zombies. If they didn't have a brain, you couldn't kill'm. Just... chop'm up a lot."

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William Toffler smiled back, taking another drink then showing his teeth. "Oh, bite me. Seriously; my psychologist says it's unhealthy but I'm into it."

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William Toffler furrowed his brows again. "What do you mean?"

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William Toffler shook his head. "I don't think so. Why?"

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William Toffler was wearing a snow jacket, thermals, and a short-sleeve shirt. Cold wasn't an issue at the moment. "You going to drink, lass?"

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William Toffler poofed into Gambit's with his usual, minus the gasmask and spear-his winter jacket, cargo pants, gloves-plus a rather foppish, wide-brim hat with a giant plume sticking out. The bird from which it was plucked had rainbow feathers. There was music, and a girl dancing.
When William poofed in, he landed in a booth. He watched her silently.