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ROB ANYBODY

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Feb 24 2014, 06:13 PM
ROB ANYBODY FEEGLE
They can tak' oour lives but they cannae tak' oour troousers!

    Rob Anybody is the 'Big Man', or clan chief, of a race of six-inch high faerie-folk known as the Feegles. They are incredibly strong and resilient, which comes in handy given that (almost all) male Feegles tend to be notoriously rowdy as a lifestyle, spending their time drinking, fighting and stealing, alone or in various combinations.

    The immense strength and rowdiness of these pictsies means that they will fight anything, and they have a particular fondness for headbutting creatures far larger than themselves. In a good fight, a Feegle will take on all comers, including his fellow Feegles.

    The fearlessness of Nac Mac Feegle in combat is derived from their religious belief that they cannot be killed, because they are already dead; they believe that they are in the afterlife, and that any Feegle who is killed has simply been reincarnated into the world where they have already lived before. They reason that Discworld, with the sunshine, flowers, birds, trees, things to steal and people to fight, must be some sort of heaven, is because “a world that good couldn’t be open to just anybody”. So, they reason, they have already been alive somewhere else, and then died and were allow to come to the Discworld because they have been so good.

    The Nac Mac Feegle have an innate ability to cross dimensions, which they call "the crawstep". There appears to be no limit on what worlds they can cross into like this, including worlds that exist only in a person's imagination (although they can't use it to travel within a world - for this, they assure people, they have "feets"). The Nac Mac Feegle take pride in being able to get into, or out of, anywhere (although getting out of pubs presents something of a difficulty).

    For the purposes of this RP, Rob Anybody has stepped through a dimensional doorway into the Whoniverse, which then promptly closed behind him, separating him from his home, his wife and his brothers. Essentially, now he is wandering through all the different worlds, trying to find his way back to the Discworld. And, knowing him, getting into a lot of trouble along the way.
FRIENDS
    The Wee Free Men get along with anyone who tolerates their shenanigans and who they feel are of some power. All Feegles feel a kinship towards other Feegles. For the most part however, they keep to themselves. They figure that things will be easier on them if no one knows that they’re around or even exist. They only show themselves (purposely) in times of great need or to trusted allies.
ENEMIES
    Some Feegle clans have an apparently superstitious fear of their names being written lest their names appear on unwelcome legal documents. For this reason, they both hate and fear lawyers, and their swords glow blue in warning if there are any about.

    Also, according to their own history, the Nac Mac Feegle rebelled against the wicked rule of the Queen of the Faeries, and were therefore exiled from Faerieland. According to everyone else (including the Nac Mac Feegle themselves if they forget this story) they were kicked out for causing fights and being drunk at two in the afternoon. Whatever the truth, the Feegles are now constantly at odds with all the other denizens of Faerieland.
LOVERS
    Nac Mac Feegles possess a culture similar to bees, termites and other social insects. The clan is made up of hundreds of brothers, and one mother, called a kelda, who plays the role of the "queen". When a Clan's kelda dies, another is imported from a different clan. The new kelda chooses her husband, known as the Big Man, from among her adopted Clan when she arrives, and soon begins the lifelong task of begetting the next generation, often up to twenty tiny baby Feegles at a time. Depending on how long the kelda has been kelda, the majority of the tribe will either be her brothers-in-law (i.e., the sons of the previous kelda) or her sons. Daughters are very rare and, on coming of age, leave to become kelda of another tribe, taking some brothers with her.

    Rob Anybody is the Big Man of the Chalk Hill clan and has recently been married to Jeannie, the new kelda. They have already had one batch of children, including one daughter.
IN SUMMARY
    I am happy to RP Rob with anyone and in any style of plot. He makes for a very loyal companion, and if nothing else, can be counted on to spice things up! So let me know what you think!
Feb 22 2014, 11:45 PM
ROB ANYBODY FEEGLE
We've been robbin' an' runnin' aroound on all kinds o' worrlds for a lang time...

    FULL NAME: ROB ANYBODY FEEGLE
    AGE: UNKNOWN
    FANDOM: TERRY PRATCHETT'S 'DISCWORLD'
    MEMBER GROUP: ALIEN
    FACE CLAIM NOT APPLICABLE
OKAY, WHY DON'T YOU TELL US ABOUT YOURSELF
    Ach, crivens! I kicked meself in ma ain heid. Whut do ye wanna be knowin' about me fer anyways, bigjobs? Ye best nae be a lawyer, or I'll gie ye sich a kickin'! The Wee Free Men dinna hold wi' lawyers. That's why our swords glow blue whene'er there's one of the scunners aroound.

    We dinna give our names, general-like, in case they are written down and used agin us. Put upon comp-li-cated documents like summonses and bills and affidavits and sich things. A body can be put in the pris'n if they have written evidence. But jest so I can join this cailey, I s'pose I'd best make the exception. Just make sure ye no' write doon anything I say.

    Mae name is Rob Anybody Feegle and I'm the Big Man of the Chalk Hill Clan of the Nac Mac Feegle. Pictsies, yon bigjobs call us. Or oftentimes, the Little Men; 'Person or Persons Unknown, Believed to be Armed'; or occasionally, 'The Defendants'. We're a famously stealin' folk. Famous for stealin' and fightin' and drinkin'...and fer drinkin' AND fightin'...and...and...for stealin' an' drinkin' an' fightin'!

    Ye'll ken us right enough if ye happen tae spy us, although nae many bigjobs do, seein' as how we're verra, verra strong and verra, verra quick. We're all aboot six inches tall, wi' flamin' red hair an' skin that looks blue from all the clan tattoos coverin' us from heid to toesies. We all wear kilts an' carry huge swords on our back. I meself allus wear a rabbit-skull helmet, which they tell me I twiddle when I'm nervous.

    As for our history, wheesht! Long ago, the Nac Mac Feegle lived in Faerie Land and did the biddin' o' the Faerie Quin. Back before she quarrelled wi' the King and he left. After that, she grew cold an' cruel, and we rebelled. There's them that say she threw us oot fer bein' drunk an' fightin' an' stealin' a' the time, but ye dinna listen to them. The Nac Mac Feegle ha' the ability to step between the worlds, usin' whut we call the crawstep, which is all in the ankle, ye ken? Our folk can get intae and outae anywheres – except for bars and pubs, which we can get intae, but nae out of, most times.

    Back then, we wuz the Quin's wild champion robbers, who went raidin' on her behalf into every world there is. Raidin' o' barns, rustlin' o' cattle, stealin' all that wunna nailed doon. An' if'n it wuz nailed doon, we'd pull up the nails and take 'em too.

    In truth, there are more worlds than there are stars in the sky. They are everywhere, big and small, close to your skin. And there are doors between 'em, places where time doesna fit. They might be a hill, or a tree or a stone or a turn in the road. They might e'en be a thought in yer heid, but they are there, all aroound ye. And in those days, throughout all the worlds, people were afeard o' us.

    But 'twas ne'er enough for the Quin. She always wanted more. But we said it's no' right to steal an old lady's only pig or the food from them that dinna ha' enough to eat. The Nac Mac Feegle fight an' steal, but we dinna fight the weak and steal fra' the poor. And we dinna steal bairns, neither, like she would have us do.

    So that's how the Wee Free Men were exiled from Faerieland and came to bide on the Disc, in the Chalk Country, nae far from the Ramtop Mountains, many centuries ago.

    Nac Mac Feegle clans are made up of hundreds of brothers and one mother, called a kelda. When a Clan's kelda dies, another is gang awa' from a different clan. The new kelda chooses her husband, known as the Big Man, from oot the warriors o' her newly adopted Clan when she arrives. Then she begins birthin' the babbies, sometimes as many as twenty at a time. Each clan is made up o' hundreds, sometimes thousands, of sons of the kelda.

    Right noo, as I said before, I'm the Big Man of the Chalk Hill clan. I'm married to the kelda, mae Jeannie, who is one Pictsie ye dinna wanna cross. She has the knowin'. Not just of the writin', but also of the pursin' of the lips, the foldin' of the arms and the tappin' of the feets. A truly fearsome Feegle. We've borned lots of new bairns, even one girl, who will be a kelda hersel' one day.

    The Nac Mac Feegle no longer go a-raidin' through the other worlds. We dinna wander far fro' our ain hoose. Instead, we protect our land, and we watch o'er the wee hag who cares for it. But sometimes, the walls betwixt the dimensions grow thin once more.

    And that's when everythin' can go verra, verra wrong. 'Tis a perilous place, the other side. A cold place...as bad as ye can think of. /Exactly/ as bad as ye can think of.

    Because in some places, all stories are true an' all songs are real.
INTERESTING. AND NOW WE'D LIKE TO SEE YOU IN ACTION
    “Whut d'ye think, Rob?”

    His brother's anxious voice cut across Rob's thought as he stared at the strange space between the two standing stones. The sun was beginning to set over the Disc in a blaze of orange glory. But in this one small, narrow space, no light fell, as if the sun shrank away from it, reluctant to touch the oily darkness beyond.

    “Aye, Daft Wullie,” he replied heavily. “'Tis a gateway, right enoug'.”

    “But where to, that's the question,” the other member of the trio asked. This was Big Yan, one of the more senior of Rob's brothers, tough enough to knock out a horse in two head-butts. “Can it be the Quin? Has she come a-fetchin' agin?”

    “One o' the outer wurlds are touchin' this one,” Rob replied, a frown marking his brow. “An' there be only one way to find out which one it is. Big Yan, ye need to go back to the mound and protect the kelda. Stay by her side and dinna leave it, until this is sorted. Daft Wullie, ye must offski for the Big Wee Hag. I may be needin' her help.”

    “Ye canna be thinkin' o' goin' in there wi'oot us, Rob?” Big Yan said incredulously. “The Nac Mac Feegle stick together!”

    Rob Anybody nodded. “Aye, we do. But the kelda needs guardin' and the Big Wee Hag needs warnin'. If this is the Quin, she needs to be stopped sharpish, so I need to tak' a gander through that doorway, right noo.”

    “D'ye at least have a plan?” Big Yan demanded.

    “Oh aye,” Rob answered with a grin. “If I see anythin' comin' at me, I'm gonna gie it a right kickin'!”

    “Ach, 'tis a guid plan!” Daft Wullie said admiringly.

    “Gang awae wi' ye, then,” Rob ordered, and his two brothers obediently took off running in opposite directions, moving so fast it was almost impossible to distinguish them with the naked eye.

    Reaching behind his back, the Big Man of the Chalk Hill clan drew his sword and advanced towards the gateway. Sticking one leg straight out in front of him, he waggled his foot, using the Feegle crawstep to slip sideways between the worlds. For a brief instant, he was enveloped in freezing cold, as if he had just walked through a waterfall. Then he passed through the weak place in the walls of the world and emerged on the other side.

    Warily, he opened his eyes and looked around. All he could see was blackness, and it crossed him mind that he may have inadvertently entered Death's domain. The possibility had no fear for him. After all, the last time he had encountered Death, he had head-butted the spectral form between the eyes.

    “An' if I spy the ol' bogle agin, I'll gie him another heid full o' dandruff!” he promised himself fiercely.

    But then he saw something that made his blood run cold. Something a hundred times worse than Death could ever be. The blade of his sword was glowing electric-blue.

    “Crivens!” he exclaimed in horror, realising that wherever he was, he could soon be facing the greatest monster of them all. “Lawyers!
    ALIAS Brownbug, BB, Beebs, Bugs...any of these work smile.gif
    EXPERIENCE Approx 8 months. However, I've been writing fanfic for many years.
    CONTACT PM preferably please.
    TIME ZONE GMT plus 10 hours
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