Truckle

[Truckle]

Gamespy ID: Ohmigosh
Character Name: Truckle
Gender: Male
Race: Gnome
Age: Undetermined - Looks like he is about 45 years old
Class: Rogue
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Deity: None

Description:

Truckle looks like a child until you see his careworn face and hands which seem to have been shaped so that everything is angular and pointed. His nose ends in a sharp point; his teeth are all pointed, as though they have been filed into sharp points on purpose; his ears rise up on the ends to sharp points; his chin is pointed also; and his eyebrows rise up in the middle as well. Truckle's hands are not large but his fingers are overly long and appear delicate but taper down to the nails which are a strange mix of claws and fingernails. And he smells of strange chemicals.

Bio:

Waking up was accompanied by a scream of terror which quickly died away to be replaced by a whimper or two and then a furtive glance around to make sure nothing was observing the cloaked figure's movements. Truckle sniffed away a small dribble of snot which had begun to trickle down from his left nostril and rummaged through his pockets to see what was for breakfast. He discovered a half-eaten squirrel leg which was left over from his meal the previous night and he began gnawing on the bones, his sharp teeth quickly shredding the tendons and gristle. All the while his quick eyes watched around him for signs of movement.

With the worst of his hunger pains subdued for the present Truckle gathered his cloak about him and moved off. His direction seemingly aimless and his purpose unsure, he scurried from tree to tree, all the while glancing furtively about as though being followed. And he mumbled as he went.

"Master, why have you left poor Truckle alone?"

*scurry*

"Nasty Master, punishing poor Truckle."

*scurry*

"Not my fault you were chased out of town by a mob with pitchforks and burning torches."

*scurry*

"I was only trying to help you attain your rightful place as God of the people."

*scurry*

"Hurt my back you did when you beat me with the willow switch."

*scurry*

"Was only borrowing them."

*scurry*

"They weren't using them."

*scurry*

"And they were my friends."

*scurry*

And the trees and bushes ended.

Truckle looked out onto open land and in the distance was a town with smoke rising from the chimneys.

"I will find you Master. I will."

And Truckles eyes opened wider and they gleamed.

"And you will be crowned Lord of all and King of everything, and your majesty and beauty will be worshipped by the insignificant insects that meander about your feet."

His voice rose and he arched his back and his face lifted to the sky. Throwing his arms wide the rant continued.

"You shall be anointed as saviour and creator. They will offer their first-born from their flocks and their families to you in sacrifice to your Wonder!..."

It was then that a small amount of spit was sucked into his windpipe and he began spluttering and coughing and turned beetroot red as he tried to catch his breath.

After a minute he regained his composure. Pulling his cloak close about him, Truckle, hunkered back amongst the trees and bushes, snatching up and eating the odd unlucky insect that had the misfortune to pass to close by he waited till nightfall.