Name: Buffel Obille
(Buffalo Bill)
Blood colour: Yellowblood (#D9A702)
Gender: Male
Symbol: A sheriff's star! (A six-sided star with round baubles on the end of each point)
Profile: Buffel grew up as a rough-and-tumble desperado in and along the outskirts of Chittentown. He values general politeness in conversation, but this contrasts with his blunt disposition. Raised by his distant lusus, a tricksy howlbeast he calls The Spirit of the West, he grew up largely fending for himself and shaping his own morality. He has a strong sense of justice, but his brand doesn’t always follow the letter of the law. He spends most of his time wandering about, practicing his hog-tying and sharp-shooting skills and spouting pseudo-philosophical gibberish to whoever will listen.
Other trolls tend to find him off-putting due to this, but some look through his flowery language to see the kindhearted justice-seeker underneath. He holds a snap judgement of contempt for most authority figures, believing them to be too restricted to carry out real justice and muddying up the process with paperwork and bureaucratic hogwash. Despite this, he does his best to maintain pleasantries amongst them, and tries to remember that they’re at least giving it a shot.
Buffel claims to not believe in the hemospectrum, stating society should “toss the whole kit and caboodle.” While he seems to not care about where others fall, he attributes a lot of his self-worth to his low blood status, considering himself to be lower-class despite his claims that blood doesn't matter. He refuses most materialistic gifts, always claiming them to be too fancy for his ilk. Most of these refusals are from rewards handed off to him, often from stepping in on some no-goodery he passed by. His lusus taught him the basics of fighting, but still being just a kid he tends to avoid hand-to-hand combat. Other than this it tended to stay distant from him, silently watching and only stepping in if the need arose. This formed into a quiet respect between the two, and made Buffel into the stoic, quiet loner he is.
Strengths: Justice Seeker: Buffel always tries to do what he feels is right and won't succumb to bystander syndrome just to save his own hide. This goes for lawmakers and crooks alike, anyone with the gumption to do someone wrong deserves a kick in the teeth in his book.
Proper Etiquette: A firm believer in giving respect until a person gives him reason to stop, Buffel tries his best to always keep up a polite demeanor, even in the face of rudeness. When he's trying he has a knack for reading emotions on other people, and will tend to them if he cares to do so.
Flaws: Hero Complex: The downside to his sense of justice is his inability to size up a situation. He's always up to do the right thing, not realizing he's still a kid who might not be ready to dish out justice to everyone just yet.
Blunt Speech: While he does his best to keep up pleasantries, Buffel's natural disposition is a blunt one. He does do his best to be polite, but he makes his intentions abundantly clear and doesn't know when some things should be left unsaid. The only thing that saves him form himself most of the time is his quiet demeanor.
Weapon: Buffel shines brightly with his six-shooter. He's a crack shot, willing to dispense justice where he sees fit, but normally saves kill-shots as a last resort. His hand-to-hand ain't bad, but he normally keeps it for defending himself. He also keeps some rope on him most of the time should he happen upon someone who needs a good hog-tyin'.
Appearance: The picture won't sho up as an image so maybe try this link for an idea:
A lickety-split Buffel SketchBuffel is a modest child, wearing a black shirt and boot-cut grey pants despite spending most of his days without boots. His defining points would have to be his horns, neatly spreading out in the shape of spurs, and his grey sarape, which is emblazoned with his symbol, a sheriff's star for the little sheriff with no town. He has messy, black hair, and tired, baggy eyes. The kid probably needs more sleep.
Home: Chittentown is where Buffel would rest his hat if he had one. His hive is a meager clay building with the bare minimum trappings. With a small spit roaster for cooking in the center of his room and big, swaying saloon doors, and a small nest of blankets for his lusus, Buffel gets spends every night as if he were outside the city, with the vastness of the desert stretching out all around him. Some nights, he actually is!
Lusus: Buffel was brought up by a tricksy howlbeast from the deserts surrounding Chittentown, named The Spirit of the West. The Spirit’s hands-off guidance has left him with much the same stoicism and he was raised with. While the dynamic between them is one of respect, it is clear that Buffel could’ve used a bit more attachment growing up. He wanders without fear, knowing The Spirit is not far behind, watching in case he needs help, and on the off-chance the time calls for it, they might meet face-to-face for a second. Buffel seems to understand that he is to carve his own path, and sets out to define that path for himself with the trust of The Spirit of the West behind him.
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