Most likely male. Born in a middle story of building, built atop a hill, sitting on several layers of geological crust floating like thinned ice on the magma.
Consistently worries about smell and its general smelliness (especially in regards to himself). Swears the world is made of thick gobs of paint. So much so that he has secretly licked everything around him to detect linseed oil. Frenetic touch; diffident ears; brown hair.
Apparently he writes poetry.
Some of his supporting cast:
“Madt learned to write in cursive at a young age of which were still proud of him for. He currently lounges on the couch watching pirated videos of a Nickelodeon kids show in a handmade track suit. An avid knitter, he leaves his spools everywhere. We're pretty sure he got learned by extensive brow-beating by people with degrees.
We're really not expecting much from him. He currently lives on our couch which is soon to be placed outside.
"I'd call him a liar but that doesn't quite hit the mark,"
- his dog, Dog
"Madt go away i'm trying to sleep!"
- roomate #4
Currently, he has been published by the upstart Minneaplis publishing company, Sic Semper Serpent, in their Spontaneous Combustion and The Fugue releases.