Let's get this ball rolling. Metaphorically, and as you will see, quite literally.
A gargantuan boulder bore down the same mountainside that TripTik Flotesyerbote had just so happened to stop on for lunch.
TripTik had just hunkered down and was methodically setting about his cutlery and condiments. His mind was set on his business of lunch, and he was deep into a strange mental state (something like sleepwalking) that could only be induced by extreme hunger.
That's why when the giant eight-foot rockstrosity was barreling towards him he didn't pay it any mind until it had nearly flattened his sourdough roll...
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TripTik Flotesyerbote
Swordsman for hire. Dabbles a bit in magical practices.
His father was a King’s First Knight, and his mother was a fortune telling sea gypsy.
Thus he is a born fighter, magically inclined, and extremely eccentric.
He wears an ostentatious robe pocked with rubies and diamonds. The robe is many coloured, and trying to pinpoint a certain pattern or hemline, or untainted colour, leads only to temporary insanity. Underneath the robe TripTik keeps a fantastic, somewhat over-kill array of holsters, Velcro straps, and sheaths.
He has no favourite weapon as all of his weaponry is created from thin air by his own imagination. His knack for eccentric design and creativity produce masterful weapons of all sorts, and he likes to mix it up each time.
TripTik is only 24 but his hair is already whiter than a ghost in a dentist's office. He dyes it, but if you ask him, he will lie and make up some ridiculous (yet entirely believable) story about how it was shocked into that state.
What else is there to say? Oh yeah. TripTik is by no means fat, but his love for food - and creating it in much the same way he does weapons - is his most characteristically defining trait.
Quite simply he is warrior, wizard amalgamated.
He's also got quite a sense of humour.
Now where were we?
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"AAHHHHHH!"
TripTik leapt up from his noontime picnic with all the speed of a cat or small rodent. The boulder was very nearly on top of him before he snapped out of his hungry daze.
He started running down the mountain, and cringed with disappointment as he heard the boulder crunch and pop the butter dish and ketchup bottle. After running down the slope - which had topography similar to, say, a cheese grater - for several more seconds, TripTik stopped suddenly as a grin of dawning comprehension spread across his face.
What an observer might have thought upon seeing TripTik book it down the mountain, then stop suddenly to face the giant boulder heading towards him, is that the wizard in the technicolor jacket fit for a broadway musical was probably contemplating suicide.
This was far from the case.
TripTik faced the boulder and watched as it came at him, gaining in speed and lobbing stone shrapnel from every angle. The cloud of dust bellowing from it was massive and it choked out the sky as the entire mountainside was tilled and disrupted.
When the gap had closed to TripTik's liking he took one solid stride to the right and felt the boulder cruise past him.
Enveloped in a cloud of dust, TripTik shielded his face with one large neon/tie-dye/plaid sleeve. His robe was whipped about in the random eddies produced by the boulder's wake.
When the dust settled, there stood TripTik no worse for the wear, save for the half-inch thick layer of dirt that had stuck to his robe. Here and there spots of intense color poked through the dirt like a rude neighbour poking his head through a window. The robe shook itself off (being sapient in its own right) and TripTik messed up his hair with both hands to get as much mountainside out as he could. With a casually pointed finger and a small flash of light his hair straightened itself out obediently.
TripTik turned to watch the boulder but all that was visible was the towering cloud of dust in its trail. He heard a splash and safely concluded that the boulder had careened off the cliff at the base of the mountain and landed in the sea below.
Just like that the hunger set back in.
TripTik frantically patted down his robe. Upon feeling the appropriate lump, he reached his hand deep down and brought it back out, finally revealing a sticky bun wrapped in paper towel. He prodded it a couple times to see if it was still good and, after a satisfactory inspection, gobbled it down in two bites.
"I wonder where that thing even came from?" He said to himself in a voice muffled by sweet honey pastry.
