[hider=Bill Harper][center][img]http://i.imgur.com/JK30xIq.jpg[/img][/center]

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[color=forestgreen][B]Name:[/b][/color] Bill Harper
[color=forestgreen][B]Age:[/b][/color] 84 (42 in Sasquatch-Years)
[color=forestgreen][B]Gender:[/b][/color] Male
[color=forestgreen][B]Breed/Species/Type/Lineage:[/b][/color] Sasquatch

[color=forestgreen][B]Physical Description:[/b][/color][INDENT]Bill is about eight feet tall, and covered with thick brown fur. Bill has features typical of a Western Canadian Sasquatch; A noticeably simian facial structure, a sloping forehead, a bearlike physique, and sharp teeth and nails designed for tearing into bark. As with all members of the Sasquatch family, Bill's feet are incredibly large; Though he has never worn shoes, Bill would be a size 27 if he were to do so.

Bill's clothes have to be custom made, and as a result, he has very few of them. He owns two plaid shirts, one red and one green, two pairs of blue jeans, and a brown hide vest, which he is quick to point out he tanned himself. He stores them under a four-ton boulder in a nearby nature reserve, and always smells a little like wet soil as a result.[/INDENT]

[color=forestgreen][B]Talents:[/b][/color][INDENT]Owing to his Squatchim heritage, Bill has an instinctive sense for spotting edible berries, mushrooms, leaves, and other plant life. This has allowed him to find business for the last few decades as an expert shroomer in the fall and spring when forests are nice and damp, and as a peyote hunter in the summer, reaping the profits during his winter hibernation.

An additional feature of Bill's shared by all Squatchim is his immense strength. He has been seen pulling trees from the earth with the exertion of a man uprooting a fence post, and occupationally walks the Earth for hundreds of miles at a time, which does not seem to tire him. Fortunately, his people have an incredibly high "Flight" response to adrenaline with evolution having crafted them into runners and hiders. He couldn't raise a fist to you unless you were whacking him with a torch and a pitchfork, and even then it would be like getting punched by a six-hundred pound version of Mr. Rogers.
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[color=forestgreen][B]History:[/b][/color][INDENT]Bill was born in a deep, untamed forest in Maine. Like all Squatchim, his father had left his mother nearly nine months earlier, and Bill's childhood was spent following the particularly large ankles of his mother. He doesn't remember much of his childhood, though he'll eagerly tell anyone who will listen about how there were more trees back then. His mother left him, as his people do, sometime in the late fourties. He fended for himself for years thereafter, leading the simple life of a Sasquatch, roaming from Maine and Vermont to Quebec and New Brunswick. He recalls these times like a man would recall a college rock band, though his stories mostly center around particularly gruesome fights he had with moose, scaring hikers, and instances he found unattended camps filled with leftovers and packaged snacks. Life remained this way until the late fifties, when fellow supernatural beings he had bumped into in the past began to seek him out. From there, Bill the Sasquatch became Bill the Drug-Finder.

The Summer of Love was a good time for Bill, as it was then he began interacting with occasional humans in his business dealings, who mostly mistook him for a large Canadian. The entirety of the 1960's was a drum circle for Bill, who carried on selling drugs for decades thereafter -- Weed, mushrooms, peyote, even those toads you freak out to lick their stress-sweat. The best part was that he didn't even have to plant it -- Most of his findings were due to his keen Squatch-Eyes, while the rest of them were due to the strange human inclination to plant their crops unguarded in forests. It was also in the 60's that he married his ex-wife Martha, who he purchased a small cabin to "properly" raise a family like humans.

Life changed for Bill during the 70's when he began a business relationship with a one Rusty McKenzie, selling he and his pack barrels of his ill-gotten harvests when they would roll through Maine. This eventually budded into a close friendship over the course of one winter, when a particularly harsh snowstorm closed off the highways for nearly a month, stranding Rusty and the rest of the Wild Hunt to Bill's cabin, where he treated them to the hospitality of a month of snowed-in partying. It was here Rusty drunkenly promised Bill that one day, he would repay that debt. Afterwards, Bill would occasionally spend a few months at a time on the road with Rusty as a business partner of sorts, generating a private profit for himself and Rusty outside of the gang's dealings during their travels.

All this came to a gradual halt with the rise of violence and warring -- Bill wanted no part in this, and began seeing Rusty less and less, drifting as friends often do. He continued to live a quiet lifestyle with his wife and son Phil, sometimes pining for his years of motorcycles and drug dealing with the Wild Hunt. All of this came to a crash two weeks ago, when Bill came home from a two-month mushroom gathering excursion to discover that Martha had left, taken Phil [i]and[/i] their dog, and that Bill would not see her again. With no one else to turn to, Bill has finally phoned in his debt to the one friend he has known.[/INDENT]

[color=forestgreen][B]Psychological Profile:[/b][/color][INDENT]Bill is a gentle, shy man. Or, to some, a gentle, shy animal. He's still trying to figure it out himself. Following his divorce with his wife -- another Squatchim, which is their people's way of referring to themselves -- he has been forced to move reintegrate into society, which he is having difficulty with. He is a simple man who enjoys the thoroughly traditional, even finding Pink Floyd to be too "electric", and has a level of disdain for the androgynous neon world he's found himself in. At heart, he's just another guy in his fourties grumbling about how kids these days.

On a deeper narrative level, a prevailing element in Bill's psychology is his instinctive Sasquatch drive to be alone, and the juxtaposition this presents with his human fear of loneliness, as well as the constraints his wandering puts on others, such as his ex-wife. I didn't sit down and write a Sasquatch you could care about for you guys to miss that.[/INDENT]

[color=forestgreen][B]Possessions:[/b][/color][indent]Bill doesn't really own stuff. It kind of comes with being the missing link. He [i]has[/i] made references to his hibernation cave where he stores particularly smooth pieces of leather he finds, though this is not really the same thing.[/indent]

[color=forestgreen][B]Relations:[/b][/color][indent]Bill is new to town, having only been in contact with fellow Squatchim for the last decade, and is now coming out of the forests to crash on his old friend Rusty's couch for a few weeks while he gets his shit together (And uses Rusty's place as an address for mailing divorce proceedings)[/indent]


[hider=Francesca's Pizza][b]Notable Person:[/b] As any Italian can tell you, if a pizza place is named after a woman, it is named after the owner's daughter, and that daughter has probably been brought up to think that she is the daughter of an Italian-American monarchy. Such is the case with Francesca DePaolo, a notable battle-axe and community board member who inherited the restaurant from her father twelve years ago. After she inherited the business she married a ghost and now everything but their pizza [i]sucks[/i].
[b]A fact everyone knows about this place:[/b] Francesca's ghost husband runs an under-the-table goblin fighting ring, and has been known to let people talk to the dead for a few minutes to get out of paying for his losses.
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