Sir Nigel Whifflebottom's page

Sir Nigel Whisby-Trent Spontington Bofert Walstengrass Jeremy Snidely Bottomly Tristam Salisbury B!%&$$!s Hawthorne West-Verdantly Giles Hugh Atkins-Hopkins-Bellowkins Terrence Lionel Richardson Smithly Quamfington Chrysler-Parks Wollverwover Quentin Carstairs Updike Wovington Finchley Rudolf Berdinger McScarfington Wenchley Englebert Geoffrey Whifflebottom Esquire the Third

When people ask Sir Nigel how he ended up bound to a small doll, he is quick to answer; he details the burning of his manor, being hunted by rabid dogs (fine-bred hounds too, most suitable for a pleasant day's hunt) and resorting to memories of youthful dabblings in the arcane to hide himself in the nearest container (just a lark which occurred to one at that time). The problem arises when the next person to ask the question receives a rambling tale involving capture by a mermaid, her falling in love with him (all due to my trouting, I do believe) and being cast into this body as punishment by her kingly father (bit too much salt in his blood for him to be a proper king though I do say). So, either one of his many stories is true or else no one is getting anything out of Sir Nigel until he's damn well ready. Consequently, observations about Sir Nigel must be restricted to the present and future.

For the moment, he works as an errant adventurer; using his magical skill to earn gold each day vanquishing goblins and saving castles and the like. In the future he seeks to restore himself to his more 'upper'-class human body (I do beg pardon for the pun, my dear sir) and returning at full potency to the world of politics, scheming and socializing that he lives and breathes.

When asked about his upbringing or parentage, Sir Nigel is quick to respond with a rollicking tale, varying youthful idealism with occasional misdeeds out on his family's acreage. When asked again he then tells of hardship caused by poor weather entailing the selling of all property except the manor house in Absalom. And when asked again he tells of a childhood upon the saes on his father's merchant vessel. One of these stories may be true, or they all may be utter falsehoods; he's not saying.

For the moment, he works as an errant adventurer; using his magical skill to earn gold each day vanquishing goblins and saving castles and the like. For the future he seeks to return to the ranks of society's upper class, and a deeply desirous gleam appears in his eyes when describing soirees and nights out at the opera with his fellow gentlebeings.

In doll form- which he often assumes when hiding from the gaze of 'those dashed blighters', Sir Nigel appears to be an ordinary children's doll; only the small glass bottle of blood in his chest and the eyes which reflect slightly more than the available light suggest he is anything special.

When interacting with anyone else however he usually makes use of a hat of disguise to assume a replica of his former self, only about half a foot in height; that is, a gentleman human in top hat and monocle and beautifully tailored black waistcoat and trousers about the same height as a small dagger. This peculiar sight is heightened when he rides his pet hawk (pheasant), a bird named Bertie, who hovers patiently while his rider converses pleasantly with people.

When in combat (in the thick of battle, my good fellow!) he illustrates all his spells with commanding pointings of the second digit, usually followed by a few barked arcane syllables bathed in an accent like extremely polite honey.

A sharply dressed gentleman, Sir Nigel sports a tall top hat, monocle and black waistcoat and trousers, and matching black leather gloves. When in combat (in the thick of battle, my good fellow) he illustrates all his spells with commanding pointings of the second digit, usually followed by a few barked arcane syllables bathed in an accent like extremely polite honey. He usually is seen with his pet hawk (pheasant, my dear chap), a bird named Bertie, who uncomplainingly hovers at his shoulder.

Polite to a fault, quick to shake hands and even quicker to bow, Sir Nigel is an enthusiastic and constantly good-humoured fellow. He meets all worldly events with calmness and the occasional violent exclamation "oh bad show, old chap!" and is otherwise undamaged by any of fate's little trials.

There are however those who consider Sir Nigel a joke; who underestimate him either because of his manners and politeness, or because of his (size/good humour). In most cases, Sir Nigel laughs them off, or shakes their hand and agrees with them that perhaps he is not quite as terrifying as he himself likes to suggest. Those who attempt to take advantage of him or bring him down regret it always. Oftentimes he will simply despatch them with a wave of his hand; when he can however he brings things to a private encounter, and his enemy sees the white-hot fury that bubbles beneath Sir Nigel's surface, all the more terrifying for its controlled coldness. He seeks his old status for wealth and power over other beings; and may the gods help those who try and stop him.