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That's the sort of PC that I would love to have as an ally. I wonder why we never ever interacted

I think we did! You had a very grumpy witch potion brewer and I was offering presents and trying to become friends, and you just kept growling and being mean to poor Mr. Dribbs... he wanted to be your friend...

Hope to return to playing EFU soon.

[[SIZE="6"]Bad Luck to Kill a Roach[/SIZE]]

The character Xyndle Dribbs was begun on July 28th, 2013 and (in a interesting, unintended coincidence!) was fully retired on July 28th, 2014.

I enjoyed playing him very much, and he got up to a great deal and was in a position to interact with many different kinds of characters. I'm sorry I couldn't play him consistently for the whole time, and although many ideas were left unfinished or un-attempted, overall I'm satisfied with his story.

His biggest secret: Xyndle Dribbs - the friendly, obsequious masked merchant, multi-classed rogue/wizard -  had the subrace of (Roachman?). Behind his mask were twin antennae, a chitinous skin, and buggy, insectoid compound eyes. His 'business partner' Mr. Drabbs was, in fact, a very large and rather sinister cockroach.

[hide=Original Application Background]What I'm applying for:
1 - Background: Xyndle Dribbs' earliest memories are of scrambling to survive in the alleyway-slums of some vast, distant, grey city. His memories of this time are confused, but not pleasant. He survived those early days rapidly by learning how to peddle junk to the other denizens of that place, and so became a peddler and merchant... passing from place to place, always fearful of the day that his affliction would be discovered and so would he be killed for what he is. He is, perhaps above all else, a survivor.

2 - Xyndle possesses large, insectoid, compound eyes and a set of small antennae. His skin is a curious reddish-brown. The exact origin of these bizarre features I would like to leave undetermined for now; some possibilities for him might be : the product of an arcane experiment, exposure to far realm irradiation, subjected to some unknown curse, or perhaps the product of carnal mingling between a human and some bizarre planar insect. I hope to explore the nature of his condition and potential origin through the development of the PC.[/hide]

I participated in two story-telling contests. I include both entries here:
[hide="Elmo Story Competition"]   Within the demesne of Lord Yzim can be found the crumbled barracks of the Glorious Legions of Lord Yzim; it was there in its lightless pantries that Xyndle Dribbs first met the one who would become his One and Only True Friend.

Xyndle Dribbs was a thin and pitiful youth; a freak-child whose buggy compound eyes and twitching antenna marked him as one worthy of the utmost scorn. With a physical form offensive to all; he found himself confined to the lightless pantries and larders of the Barracks, directed to organize the vast grey sacks of grain and mouldering beans that made up much of the food for the soldiers of the barracks. With a degree of precision and an exactingly analytical mind, young Dribbs soon found himself an essential cog in the logistics of feeding so many hungry mouths. Although poor Dribbs appreciated an opportunity to make himself useful, life in the kitchens and pantries was not a pleasant affair…. dark, dismal and above all else lonely.

When the youth was not otherwise occupied with the sorting of beans and weighing of potato-mash, he lingered about in one of the main kitchen halls, hiding there under one of the great heavy wooden tables, waiting to be kicked out from below by one of the head cooks and given some manner of assignment. It was a day much like any other when Xyndle Dribbs happened to peer out from below the table and see a very large cockroach making its way through the kitchens.

The Cockroach was certainly not bothering anyone, but rather scuttling about along on the greasy kitchen floor in innocent search of bits of scraps and crumb.

And then one of the lank-haired kitchen maids screamed.

A large pear shaped cook roared with a fury and attempted to pounce upon the Roach with one flabby foot, but the clever little thing scuttled away just in time. The cooks and pot-boys, eager for a departure from the routine of the day, set upon trying to kill the insect with the enthusiasm of hungry lions…. pans were hurled, knives flung, and even an entire tureen of watery turnip soup was overturned all in the interests of this poor Roach's destruction.

Scuttling and dodging death, the little roach scuttled at last under the table and onto the lap of none other than Xyndle Dribbs himself. Xyndle Dribbs peered down with astonishment, and tentatively caressed the roach's hard body. He couldn't help but notice it looked a little bit like him.

"DRIBBS" screamed the head-cook. "Squash that roach, freak, and we'll all get back to work!"

With trembling hand, Dribbs held the little roach in his hand, wondering if he should be obedient to such a dreadful command. And he reached his decision.

And so Roachboy and Roachfriend scuttled out from under the table and past the clumsy kitchen staff, making for the pantries and the long-twisting tunnels to the wider worlds beyond. "Thief! Cur! Criminal!" shouted the head-cook as the two new friends escaped and left the dreary kitchens behind forevermore.

* * *

"I shall name you Mr. Drabbs, for I am Mr. Dribbs, and we shall be best friends forever." Such were Xyndle's first words to the roach, sitting comfortably ensconsed in the small, cosy cage that Dribbs had prepared for him. And the little roach's antenna quivered, and Xyndle Dribbs heard a voice from somewhere within his mind…. "This will be the start of a beautiful friendship!"
[/hide]

From this story he had an opportunity to participate in a contest with the mysterious mage Andrevik Tilmerton along with other participants, and so at last came to possess the secretive Loyal Luggage...which was a second beautiful friendship also.

[hide="AllMyBudgies Story Contest"]

[SIZE="6"]Bad Luck to Kill a Roach[/SIZE]

[SIZE="3"][SIZE="5"]Time[/SIZE] has a way of becoming rather muddled in the gloom-shrouded settlement of Sanctuary. With no sun to set the schedule of a day, the pale and poorly folk of Upper would find their eating and sleeping schedules dissipating erratically into irregular impulse and whim. This had the singular consequence that it was never truly night; and consequently the business of the House of Trade never truly stopped.

It was, however, a quiet hour when Clerk Smuld arrived at the House in order to conduct an inspection of the merchant stalls arrayed haphazhardly about the large chamber. Clerk Smuld was a dour, officious woman who took her responsibility over the regulatory minutiae of the House of Trade with the ferocity shared only by the badger and bureaucrat.

She frowned at the way Simsam's adventuring supplies were piled in a great jumble. She was critical of how Naryldor's elixirs smelled so pungently. She sneered at Merobolt's rusted salvage.  She scowled at Old Man Pocket's greasy jacket, and she reduced unfortunate Mouldercrest to tears with a few harsh words.

"Mr. Dribbs," she growled at Xyndle Dribbs. The Masked Merchant was busy bustling about his rented stall with a small whisk broom, his ambulatory Luggage keeping to the side. With a flurry of frenetic energy, Mr. Dribbs finished his sweeping and began bowing and bobbing obsequiously to the Clerk, genuflecting and complimenting everything from the exquisite cut of her drab robes of office to her choice of dull grey slippers.

"Madam, Madam. I am enchanted to see you. Please - welcome - come right over - always such a pleasure to receive an inspection!"

"Heh.  At least you've been sweeping. And where is Mr. Drabbs? When will I finally meet this mysterious partner of yours?"

"Ahhh, Madam, we manage somehow. Mr. Drabbs is much concerned over the care of his many hungry children, of course, but - "

A strangled shout, and he was interrupted.

"Mr. Dribbs, there is a COCKROACH crawling there!" With a look of disgust, the Clerk threw her ledger book at the offending yet innocent baby-insect, squishing it instantly.

Xyndle Dribbs went silent. He twitched. He convulsed. His gloved fingers tore at his smock; his Mask trembled with concealed emotion. And yet his voice was calm... "Apologies, Clerk Smuld. Apologies... but anyway, I think we are done for the day. I must... must go."

With great care Mr. Dribbs scooped up the flattened bug, packed up his stall, and disappeared swiftly from the marketplace into the hazy illusion beyond.

* * *

Minutes later Xyndle found his way into the safety of the extraordinary dimensions within his Luggage, and removed his mask. Pungent tears flowed freely from his insectoid, compound eyes. With mingled trepidation and sadness, he descended into the Bottom Shelf in order to present Mr. Drabbs with the mangled remains of the youngest of his many, many children.



Squatting upon stained cushions and surrounded by a great pile of gold, the bloated roach that is Mr. Drabbs seemed at first indifferent about the dead baby insect that had so unwisely explored beyond the confines of the safe Luggage-Nest. Yet with a twitching of its distended proboscis an ultimatum was issued; such a cold-blooded murder of Roachblood, no matter how young, was a crime that merited the most severe punishment.

Offering a clipped bow of obedience, Mr. Xyndle Dribbs began his work. He knew that the task before him would require the utmost of his many and various talent, a task worthy of a True Jack of Trade.


* * *

The next dark Clerk Helga Smuld awoke in her cramped flat in one of the tenements of the Public Housing Vault unaware that she was about to suffer a very unlucky day indeed.

When she went to her flat's cramped closet in order to prepare for the day, she was horrified to discover that somehow during her rest a spider must have slipped into the closet and covered all of her robes and tunics with sticky webbing. Astonished at the mess, she realized that somehow her window had opened during her rest. The apartment was located in an upper story, so it was certainly impossible that any thief had managed to climb the sheer walls in order to enter into the flat, but nevertheless she anxiously decided to check under the broken tilestone to ensure her carefully hoarded savings of gold was still safe.

Somehow, something or someone had discovered the secretly hidden gold, and stolen everything. All that remained behind was a myserious pile of dusty-brown insectoid dung.

To make matters worse, her freshly purchased jugs of beetlemilk had gone prematurely rancid, and the fungal loafs had sprouted with inedible sporing.

Hungry and already late for her shift at the House of Trade, a soiled Clerk Smuld struggled with her key to lock the door behind to her. To her horror, she realized that somehow the lock was broken, and that her keys no longer worked. She had locked herself out of her own apartment, and now lacked the gold to find a proper locksmith to fix it.

As she hurried from her flat, she saw waiting at the bottom of the stair her neighbor, Sally Starling.

Smuld thought she could hurry past her seemingly enraged neighbor, but it was clearly not to be.

"HELGA SMULD, you harridan! I know what you've been doing! You and my husband both! I've heard tales from several already, you and him have been fornicating! In the Worminger pits, by the gods! And frolicking naked in the Simms fountain! I'll tear your hair out, you slattern!"

It was a veritable storm of abuse, and the very plain Helga Smuld did not know what to make of it. She surely had not been fornicating with Mr. Starling, or with anyone for that matter. Yet someone had apparently convinced Sally Starling of the truth of it.

Hungry, clad in web-stuck robes, empty-pursed, and now pursued by a furious neighbor Clerk Smuld passed at last to the great vault of Sanctuary and from there to the House of Trade. Still trembling and anxious over all of her mysterious ill-fortune, Clerk Smuld had few strong words to share during this inspection. Edwic's newest toys were approved for sale to children. Merchant Weasenburry's surplus was offered the highest rating. Complaints from irate customers about the White Seer's false merchandise were ignored. Sim-Sam was complimented on the great abundance of his personal adventuring supplies. Even Mouldercrest received little more than a simple meek nod.

As for Mr. Dribbs, his stall seemed to be in order - certainly, there were no roaches to be seen. Xyndle capered in his customary servile manner, demonstrating each of his exotic curios and politely ignoring the wretched and still bewebbed state of her gown. At last, obsequiously and with seemingly vast concern, he inquired... "Madam Clerk Smuld, what is wrong this dark? You are not your customarily cheerful self!"

"Oh... I have had a bad time of it. Tyche frowns upon me, I have been so unlucky ever since I awoke! I don't know what I could have done to deserve it..."

"Ahhh! But Madam Clerk Smuld, didn't you know? I am very sorry to inform you, but it is well known that it is very bad luck indeed to kill a roach!"
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In this second story (which of course never actually happened, was just inspired by EFU's setting), I wanted to reflect the idea of Dribbs' loyalty to roaches, his manner of getting revenge, and also that he was a true 'jack of all trades' - a multiclassed insect-affiliated wizard/rogue with high skill point investment in rogue skills, social skills, merchant skills, etc.


As a deeply paranoid roach-man, Xyndle Dribbs always tried to hide most of what he got up to... but he definitely got up to quite a bit. Here we see, for example, him depositing powdered-roach-extract into one of the (many) potions he brewed. He was always an enthusiastic advocate about the special spices included in his brews, and now you the secret ingredient - for you see, Dribbs & Drabbs believed that by imbibing arcanely-transmuted roach dung humanity would begin to turn into Roachmen, just like Xyndle.



Sadly I have few screenshots of his many adventures, but among the most glamorous was the one in which he joined the Sojourners on an expedition to the Grey City, where as the sole surviving member of the group attempting to kill a powerful ice-demon, he managed to do so with a swarm of heavily enchanted bees.



Never undestimate the power of potion-guzzling bees.



Left undocumented: bribing Spellguard Agents, hatching secretive trading deals and attempting to build brewing cartels, providing information and magical supplies to the many of the most notorious villains and sinister foes of Sanctuary, ripping off adventurers in the House of Trade, depositing Roach Eggs all about Sanctuary, fighting in the Sleeping Pyrimo Arena for his famous Bee Stick, selling Substance and other illegal drugs, accumulating tens of thousands of gold (one potion at a time!), attending Scrapper Conventions and selling Dunwarren Keys, hunting Beholders, and yelling his signature battle-challenge: I may not be a very good fighter, but I am a very rich one!



But finally at last it was time for the story of Xyndle Dribbs to come to a close.

It began with the mysterious master wizard Tilmerton calling upon Dribbs once more for a favor. For you see, it seems the merchant-purveyor of ambulatory furniture that Tilmerton had been dependent upon was selling cursed merchandise, and a planar expedition was necessary to find out why.



After assembling a crew of new and old friends...



....Tilmerton brought the motley crew to some distant city within the Lower Planes. There the Selling of Luggage was revealed as being, in fact, some manner of vengeful, screeching imp-devil.

Although the devil 'Master Kz-Kzu' was willing to remove the curse upon both sets of Luggage, he would extract a heavy price: a game of Diabolical Dice.



With the game of Diabolical Dice won by the brave Cordelia, the group was given the key to travel to a Shadowed Plane where the instructions for removing the Curse might be found. After fighting many terrible shadows, they discovered the instructions - return to Master Kzu-Kzu, and play another game of Diabolical Dice.

With the game once more won by the intrepid heroes, the group returned to the shores of the Dark Lake.

After promising prizes to all, Tilmerton offered to Xyndle Dribbs an opportunity to finally meet someone else just like him.



The group was taken on a final Plane-walking Expedition, to a vast dry waste filled with millions of Cockroaches.



Would Xyndle Dribbs finally learn something of where he came from? Would he finally take off the mask?



Mr. Drabbs was glad to have come to the Roach-Wastes also.





Mr. Dribbs and Mr. Drabbs were glad to have found a home, and wished to remain. Yet the Dread Empire was encroaching upon the Roachlands, and a final transmutive ritual must take place. The Roach King must be turned to stone, and the First Mother Of All Roaches awoken so that she could direct the Roach Armies against the Dread....






The Ritual was a success. The King was transmuted into stone, and after eight thousand years of slumber the First Mother was awoken - and all the Roachlands rejoiced in wild, frenzied chittering.



Xyndle Dribbs would remain with the Roaches, for he had found a home.



He would miss his friends and his many wild adventures, but all stories must, at last, come to a close.




Thanks for the fun!

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