Easily recognisable from his shock of gingery hair and gangly stature, Bif is a young lad seemingly perpetually trapped in that awkward stage between manhood and adolescence. Mismatched eyes in starkly opposing shades of truffle brown and forest green peer out from the makings of his face. Bif has been blessed with high cheekbones, a syrupy dappling of freckles, and perhaps the most wispish beard in all of the lands.
His hair is a riot of red; obscuring entirely his ears and flopping boyishly across his brow. Almost lost amongst the russet tangle; a bronze-rimmed set of spectacles are perched.
Bif's frock coat was once new; though now time finds it dusted and patched. Likewise, his suit has seen 'better turns' and appears to bear nibbles about the cuffs and hem. None of Bif's brass buttons match, and slung about his shoulder he carries an equally beaten knapsack. It's dull, canvas exterior has been brightened by a number of colourfully embroidered patches that read things like, 'I he?rt humanoids' and 'Gremlins are great!' complete with a romantically sweet depiction of a Gremlin, winking and giving a thumbs-up. A burgundy-dyed, woolly pom-pom bounces from a string tied to one of his bag buckles.
A journal with a gull plume tucked into the spine peeks out of his pack. The Humanoidologist .
The Hollowed Tree Gremlins.
Dances With Dwellers - Vol 1
Biffy smells of mud and the wind, of Gremlins and grass. The spirited and frolicsome smell of boy.