Granny Lil



Granny Lil is the Judge NPC created by BlackLillian

General

 * Age: Protozoan
 * Height/Weight/Build: No one knows what lies beneath the heap of quilts, other than lots of cats.
 * Accessories: Cats, quilts, and her spectacles.

Abilities
Has an army of devoted cats, willing to obey commands if there’s a kipper in it for them. Also known to give a wicked evil eye, occasionally strong enough to paralyze, and usually bad enough to convince the target to walk away. Very, very quickly.

Dress Style
Great stonking heaps of quilts. Underneath those? Very old-fashioned clothing with lots of buttons and high collars. Is scandalized by the sight of women’s ankles. Were she ever to attempt to go swimming, would likely do it in a bathysphere.

Personality
A bitter, malignant vulture of an old besom, Granny Lil delights mainly in terrorizing anyone and everyone with her cats. Those furry little fluffballs are more than happy to strip your calves clean to the bone if it means a can of tuna in the bargain. Also, if it exists, she can and will blame you for it.

History
Granny Lil has resided in the swamp for longer than anyone can remember. Rumors are that the swamp is, in fact, 65.3% comprised of not peat, but kitty litter of eons past, so best watch where you trod. (This would in part explain the stench.) She lives out in the bog because she wanted to get away from the heathen ways of the modern world. However, upon living devoid of human contact, she discovered she actually missed actively loathing humanity. As such, she branched out to the other inhabitants of the swamp… and organized. Several PTAs, Neighborhood Watches, and Community Recycling Centers later, the people of the swamp realized they’d been marshaled into a thinly-veiled dictatorship run by Granny Lil. She would invite them over to her house to ‘discuss business’, serve tea (‘serve’ in the loosest sense of the word, as the victim would be compelled to ‘help an old lady, pour a cuppa, there’s a good little lumpling’ ) and take a seat in a slightly-molding armchair. Five hours of pure verbal arsenic later, either the victim had surrendered his or her consciousness, or was vaguely foaming at the mouth. Worse, no one dares defy her summons, lest they run afoul of her feline fellows and their taste for flesh. Granny Lil was only convinced to allow the tournament on her swampy property on the condition that she was allowed to judge, but somehow has managed to be burningly resentful of that too. And you hooligans best keep off her lawn, or you’ll be out a femur.

Misc
Has a weakness for peppermint tea. Weakness, in this case, translates to ‘more likely to fall asleep mid-sentence’.