Whet-Stone, the unfortunate, is drop dead gorgeous. Always making himself laugh, he devises elaborate schemes to yield the most impressive hauls anyone has ever seen or more specifically "heard him " brag about.
Go big or go hide in the shadows to go bigger later is the definition of his swag. Trademark messy dreads in a bowl haircut scream noble outcast with a knack for doing absolutely nothing, but with a skill mastery and confidence no one seems to be familiar with.
He has the reputation for setting off every trap known to man and staying alive-kinda. His greatest moment was when he rhymed with Orange, and the impressive deed caught the attention of his future nemesis.
A-Team style, Whet loves when a plan comes together conning other players when the necromancer needed bodies for the ritual, holding a "legitimate" writ/will for all of their worldly effects, Whet is really just waiting for them all to die "again".
His initial demise came when he was tunneling through the mausoleum and connecting each passage way to his secret maze of greed and plunder. So he was using the cemetery as a hidden fortress and unfortunately he, without warning,died of congenital heart problems naturally.
Ironically, using a different name, Whet-Stone is extremely independently wealthy as a regionally world renown poet and has always thought of himself in third person as some sort of folk hero (Zorroresque).
At last count, Whet-Stone has over 40 young wives who are all aware of the others, and was engaged to the "one" as he ventured into swamps off East Oronod Road, but he has been overwhelmed with more child support increases lately. And has been accused of faking his death to escape a clause in the alimony paperwork.
Whet's legal team, the city's grand council, have only one goal, to keep the Orphanage of Inspiration the strongest magical institute in the whole realm, but on their off days they sell artifacts and political secrets on the side.
