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Wilbert Thistlewool- Muddle-headed little man
Elendor MUSH [connect]

Wilbert has probably been the most fun of any of my characters so far to play. He's handy in numerous ways, because when I RP him with newer players and they do something odd, it's perfectly fine for me to call them on their action's weirdness. For whatever reason he got made a feature character, but his stats and training never reflected that change.

Description:

This is a man so short he could be mistaken for a hobbit. Yet at one inch below the five-foot mark, he is at least a head taller than the grandest of the Little Folk. However, his hobbit-like appearance is not helped at all by his curly hair, a mousy brown with some grey hairs peppering it due to his age—probably somewhere near fifty. For a hobbit, he would be considered quite thin; for a man, mid-weight, a little bony in some places. Sharp features mark his weathered face: a pointy nose, beady eyes, thin-pressed lips. 

Though they are simple, the man’s clothing betrays wealth and care. Each item, from the trousers to the waistcoat to the shoes, fits perfectly; perhaps they are tailored for him. They are clean and starched to the point of stiffness, and his black shoes are so shiny they could be used as a mirror. They do not, however, match one another; often the color of the shirt and coat clash horribly in color or pattern.

History:

The year 2981 marks a great event in the history of the town of Bree: Mr. Wilbert Thistlewool, scourge of Eastern Eriador, cursed Middle Earth with his presence. (He almost instantly received the prefix 'Mr' to his name. His parents called him 'The Little Sir' while he was still in the cradle, and the title stayed with him.) The boy was born to Leighton and Hannie Thistlewool, a couple who had left Combe looking for a life which did not involve farming. In some manner, they succeeded; somehow Leighton acquired quite a bit of money which he claimed he had earned in trade, but since by profession he was a cart-driver, a few suspected the tale but never questioned it too deeply. Thus young Wilbert grew up in a comfortable home in Bree Proper; he knew little other than this, being more keen on staying in the house than playing with other children. He learned his letters and figures being apprenticed to a clerk, but this arrangement lasted only as long as the other man's nerves could bear it, and after that the boy had little else to do but learn on his own. (He tried, as well, to maybe join some of the other children in playing, but as much as he tagged along, they just couldn't bear his personality and generally avoided him when possible.) 

There came a time at which Hannie gently urged her son that he might marry someday. These suggestions were repeated often but nothing came of them because either young Mr. Thistlewool wasn't interested in the lasses or the girls politely giggled whehn in his presence--not the sort of pleasant, flirty tittering often associated with girls of a certain age, but the sort that suggested that, at a few inches under five feet, the 18-year-old Wilbert looked like a child, acted like an old man, and was not suitable for a life which involved other people. His only hope came in the form of Anabel Kipperlee, a girl two years his elder who thought she was in danger of becoming an old maid. She was a commanding presence already, at least in the gossip circles, and soon put a halt to the rumors that her engagement to 'that ornery little twit' was merely because he was wealthy. However, it was almost as if the two were made for each other--she was willing to speak up for him when he wasn't, and gradually the young man grew a voice, even if it was to remain wheedling and sometimes a bit too high-pitched for the rest of his life. (The town seemed to agreed that, while they made a strange couple, they seemed to adore one another.) 

The two moved into a room above Wilbert's parents and remained there today. Two decades later, they took inherited the whole Thistlewool house, which some still say has a treasure buried in the stone walls. Anabel Thistlewool is a maternal woman who spoils her husband in lieu of having any children. (And the town expressed great relief over this.) As chair of the Bree Ladies' Club, Mrs. Thistlewool sees to the social functioning of the town and is sure that her husband obeys her wishes, whatever those may be. He is Bree's foremost "activist", or rather, the man who will follow the councilmen around until they give in so that he will just go away. 

It's true; our middle-aged Wilbert Thistlewool never has had a profession to call his own. The tales of wealth perpetuated and were believed enough by some of the seedier folk of the Breelands that there was some truth to them. The man has survived having his caravan of wagons held up by bandits on the way back from the Shire, and after swearing that he would never travel again, took an unfortunately unplanned trip (while blindfolded, drugged and bound in the back of a cart) to Dunland to be sold to the highest bidder when no ransom turned up. Upon his return to Bree, Wilbert returned to his usual way of sitting on the front porch, but it seems that he grows weary of an idle lifestyle and seeks to *do* something with his time. Perhaps the most active upstanding citizen will find something productive to do with his time soon, or else he will die in a few decades remembered as little more than grumpy, before his due time.

Persona: