Bio: It was a dark and stormy night... Well, if by dark you meant quite bright, stormy overcast, and by night you meant day. ...Okay, so it was a bright, overcast day in a generic fuzzy infested forest, and as per the usual two fuzzies were lazing about like the parasites they are.
"Meork man, this day is beat as all get out. Boring.... So boring..." "Hey Meork, stop meorking around and do something! Today is a bright, shining, wonderful day, so done get up off yer lazy fuzz!" "Nyeah! I wanna be meorking bored if I want to be meorking bored!" "Well nyeah to you too buddy!" "Meork, I ain't your buddy, guy!" "Well, I ain't your meorking guy, pal!" "Oh yeah, well nyeah I a--" Thankfully before that conversation was trapped in a loop, there was a rustle in the bushes! And what a strange rustle indeed, for much to the two's surprise (well, surprised after a minute or two as they were still bickering) a human with a pith helmet, a strange metal stick, a sturdy pair of glasses and strange tan colored clothing with all sorts of buttons all over it.
"Hm... Smithers! ...Smithers, I don't believe this is the safari, where are we Smithers? ...Smithers?! I say, you just can't find bloody good help these days." "MEORK MAN, DON'T GO SNEAKING UP ON US LIKE THAT!" "Oh my! Haven't your parents told you to never shout at a stranger, much less talk to one? Good heavens, you nearly scared the light out of me." The man took a kerchief out of a front pocket and wiped his reddened nose with it as he got a look at the two hooligans, but frankly couldn't make out anything past all the grime on his glasses.
"Meork man, who does this fella think he is?" "Oh bother, I can't see anything through this dreadful grime, excuse me for one second you hooligans and I'll get right back to the tongue lashings." The man muttered as he tried to wipe the glasses off first with the kerchief.
"Some weird strange weird guy who weirdly sneaks up on people all weird like in the bushes I bet!" Hm, no, that didn't work at all, perhaps his shirt? Oh how dreadful, to be forced into such a deplored depravity as to clean one's glasses with their very clothing!
"MEORK, you're right! He's gotta be dangerous and all that stuff, Meork man, you go to one side, I'll get the other!" Oh where is Smithers when you need hi--Oh it seems the two hooligans are moving. Ah well, clear enough now.
"Now then, you two stay right ther--Oh my. What in the blazes are you? Something good to hunt I bet! Smithers, my powder! ...Oh, right." "NOW!" "WITH MY LAST WORDS, I CURSE SMITHERS! OW, that hurt you rapscal--OW!"Sufficient to say, much horrific screaming was had.
"Aw right, look at all this meorking sweet swag man!" "Meork man, I know! I call the funny stick!" "Aw man... Fine, have your stupid funny stick you Meork, I'll take these round thingies and this round thingy." The Fuzzy, with great difficulty due to being limbless, managed to first get the helmet on his head! Success was almost at hand to show up that other stupid no good stupid meorking meork that it made the wrong choice in swag! The Fuzzy then
reached headbutted the glasses firmly on his face! Suc--The glasses glinted in a light that didn't exist. Its eyes looked straight ahead, and its ever presently open maw swung shut. After a long silence, the Fuzzy spoke in a composed manner.
"...I say." "Dude, you sound like a Meork."And thus
began re-began the wild tale of Duke Perceval.
Name: Duke Perceval
Race: Fuzzy
Gender: Fuzzy
HP: 10
FP: 10
Strength: 1d4
Mastered badge: Whatever is appropriate for the race
Additional badge: