About "Willie" Whyte-Vetillus, Esq.Crunch:
Wilberforce "Willie" Whyte-Vetillus, Esq. Male human Bard 1 24 Years of Age NG medium humanoid [human] Init +5; Senses - Perception +1 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10 (+3 Dex) HP 10 (1d8 + 1 Con mod + 1 FC bonus) Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +3 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. Weapon: rapier, +3 attack (1d6 damage, 18-20/x2 crit), piercing -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 10 (+0), Dex 16 (+3), Con 13 (+1), Int 8 (-1), Wis 12 (+1), Cha 17 (+3) Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13 Feats: Arcane Strike, Lingering Performance Traits: Rich Parents [900 gp starting wealth], Reactionary [+2 init.], Merchant Family [trade benefits, Deverin] Skills (6/lvl): Bluff +7, Know (arcana) +4, Know (local) +4, Know (nature) +4, Know (nobility) +4, Know (planes) +4 B. skills: Perform (oratory) +7, Perform (keyboard) 7 Languages: Common (Taldane) -------------------- Wealth -------------------- Adventuring Gear: backpack (m) Other Gear: grooming & shaving kit, hip flask, noble's outfit & ostentatious garment, perfume (rare, 10 doses), pocket watch, playing cards & dice, signet ring, umbrella, wooden butterfly token, Alchemist's Kindness x3, Raucous Canard Weight: 24 lbs./38 lbs. Coin: 279.4 gp -------------------- Magic -------------------- Cantrips: Light, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Read Magic 1st (2/day): Hideous Laughter, Saving Finale -------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- Class: bardic knowledge; bardic performance Racial: bonus feat; skilled Background vignette (in which our hero manages nary a word):
”This is one of the most shameful cases ever to come before this bench.” It was all really quite rude if you stopped to think about it. Granted, young master Willie wasn’t the most adept of thinkers; his bean usually didn’t hit its stride till pretty late in the p.m.’s. Not a morning person, him. Given the early hour then, the cards weren’t exactly stacked in his favor. The cot of the jail cell certainly hadn’t helped either, not being his usual fare! He had a delicate spine. The evening’s libations had aided sleep, thankfully. The accompanying hangover wasn’t aiding said bean, however, it now floating in a mixture of colorful cocktails. As said, not fair, quite rude. Was this ground for one of them judicial miscarriages, he wondered? ”In all my years as a magistrate, I have seldom heard a tale of such heinous iniquity.” He was a serious sort, the judge, one of these respectable old chaps with the kind of critical gaze that made Willie’s already cot-battered spine feel gelatinous. He was looking at him mightily critically. The defendant’s box was growing smaller by the minute, and the young man felt like a badly wrapped brown-paper parcel still dressed as he was in his disheveled finery. Adopting the spirit of a defendant, he decided to defend himself, attempting an, “I say.” It came out as a sort of bleating. “For what should be one of Magnimar’s finest to find no better way to end an evening’s hooliganism... And on the night of the university boat race!” Ah, the old boy was an alumnus! He had suckled from the bosom of the same alma mater Willie now nestled at, or, rather, took cursory tastes from when he could find the time. It was the most dashed misfortune; Magnimar’s night life had a way of exhausting even the most spirited of chaps, and with classes insisting on being so early, well… One had to make way for the other. Surely it was completely unreasonable to deny a young fellow the bloom of his youth? Yes, a brother-in-spirit such as the judge would understand, they being university bosom buddies! Through the haze of his morning-after, Willie realized that this relation might not be to his advantage. In fact, it could very well be the reason the magister appeared not just annoyed, but downright offended with him. He tried speaking up again. “Now look here,” he managed. ”Be quiet!” Opening and closing his mouth ineffectively, it felt dry as a desert; roughly as silent too. “Can our seats of learning produce barbarians so lost to decency that their highest ambition is to steal a hard-working city guard’s helmet and make off with it?” Somehow Willie suspected the judge wouldn’t be sympathetic to the why’s and how’s of the caper. It had to be done! Pongo Mannering-Phipps had challenged him to it! He and Oofy Simpson had invented this game, you see, of nicking anything notable as a sort of trophy, really not unlike game-hunting and that was a perfectly respectable pastime, wasn’t it? Expect then Barmy Fotheringhay-Phipps had made it – the pinching that is – a prerequisite to joining this new gentlemen's club of his, and, well, then it was off to the races. Mind you, old Snorty never thought much of... “I find you guilty as charged, Wilberforce Whyte-Vetillus, and have no alternative but to fine you the sum of five thousand gold sovereigns.” Willie managed a gulp, he knew not of what. This was a not inconsiderable sum. ”Additionally, you should know that I am familiar with your aunt. Make no mistake – she will hear of this.” And just like that Wilberforce was sober as an ice-cream soda on New Year’s Eve. The true horror of the situation dawned on him. He dared say that there were roughshod fellows in the world – men of blood and iron, and all that – who would curl up into a ball in the face of his Aunt Arabella. In her youth, she had quickly established herself as one of these modern, assertive women, and, like a dragon, she had only grown mightier with age. One did not cross Aunt Arabella. One did not shame her, especially. This 5000 gold piece fine was one thing. But the scandal? Willie knew that her ire would be such that you’d wonder those chaps in the olden days made such a fuss about that ‘Whispering Tyrant’ personage. ”Take him away. Away, I say!” Away – yes, that was the ticket. He needed to get away, leave the city for a spell. Just long enough for the old beldam to calm down and see reason. Where was it his cousin Gussie had holidayed recently? Sandpoint? Wait a tick, didn't he have family there? Steady the buffs, the Deverins! Of course! It'd been ages since he'd visited, on account of their... bucolic leanings. Yes, that would do nicely. A nice little furlough in the countryside, just until this whole mess passed. Willie, you ol' boffin, he thought, you've done it again.
Appearance:
Young Wilberforce is readily identified as a member of the idle rich, albeit not so idle that he cannot carouse the night away. Although clearly used to the finer things in life, spirited revel and the odd liquid lunch have kept him fit as the fiddles he enjoys dancing to. Mind you, some would instead call him lanky as a lyre, and Willie is undeniably somewhat gangly in build. A long, narrow face complements this frame, always very expressive – the young man was not meant for poker. Even so, he sometimes manages to leverage his innocent blue eyes (critics would say vacuous) to his advantage, convincing people that he’s dumber than it’d first appear. No mean feat considering how an indulgent lifestyle hasn’t provided him much to work with beneath the carefully oiled dark hair. Being of good Taldan stock, he enjoys fashion from that capital of fashion. Sadly, his sense doesn’t match his ambition, leading to clothing that frankly mark him as the prat he is. Personality:
Willie considers himself a modern gentleman and although woefully out of touch with the rest of the world in many respects, he is in fact not as officious as many other upper-class twits. For one, he is too fond of a good party to be a complete snob. While he does have a sense of people’s proper stations, that’s no reason to treat his lessers poorly – or deny himself a bit of fun among said lessers. A street sweeper may make for a better drinking partner than a stuffy old lord! Willie even prides himself on a strong moral code even if actually acting on that code is something he leaves to others. It should come as no surprise that the young man hasn’t worked a day in his life. He did, however, once win a spelling competition in preparatory school, a fact he remains quite proud of. Neither sciences nor arts could maintain his interest, though. Willie is perpetually truant from his university in Magnimar in favor of late-night carousing. He is, to be frank, no great loss at that seat of learning. As one schoolmaster put it, the young sir was to be considered "mentally negligible". A talent unrecognized by teachers and even Willie himself, however, is his penchant for music. Whether it’s belting out a ditty or plinking away at a piano, Willie enjoys adding to festivities with some tunes, an effort most appreciate even if his singing can charitably be called “spirited”. True to his book averse ways and sheltered upbringing, he can be very naive, not so much assuming the best of people as simply being ignorant of the wider world.
Player questionnaire:
1. What time zone are you in? Mom told me not to share private information online. 2. How long have you been playing TTRPGs?
3. What's your favorite part about playing TTRPGs?
4. What do you expect from this game?
5. What do you expect out of your fellow players?
6. What do you expect out of me?
7. Beyond the obvious (generally stuff already prohibited by Paizo's forum rules,) what are your redlines? Are there any topics, themes, or imagery that you absolutely do not want to see in the game?
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