The Villian we won’t deny is standing over a pile of assorted ephemera. For some reason, Walt Whezl is dressed in more proper wrestling gear than he ever has been. Tights with his name in a King Diamond-esque font, and black boots featuring an airbrush of his own mug, lest you forget who he is.
He still wears a cape, and top hat, however.
Walt Whezl: I see all of these dungeons and dragons accouterment and physics books, and I can’t help but wonder if I am some kind of boss?
His borderline nasal falsetto is not appealing to listen to, but he considers the pile by picking up a d20 and rolling it.
It’s a 1.
Of course, it’s a 1.
His nose twists in annoyance.
Walt Whezl: I have surely won in some golf dice fashion…
Noticing the camera he spins, producing his cane which is known to blow that devastating cloud of black miasmistic mist.
Walt Whezl: Wild Heart, Returning Ortiz. YOU WILL ALL DROWN IN OCEANS OF BLACKEST BLACK MIDNIGHT! Tonight I will blaze the path to paradise in your glowing ashes!
Whezl capered away. Attempting and failing at a heel click.
Blackest Black Midnight