Mr. Weedle, A Friendly Man

[Zango_Unchained]

Mr. Weedle started as humble alchemist who hated the sharing of magic or secrets and kept them all to himself, giving lip service to the goddess mystryl and passionately keeping his head in the books. His family neglected him and when the world ended he fled his home and escaped to sanctuary as many do.

His personal goals were:
-Not die

-Achieve what his father couldn't a cure-all via alchemical and herbalistic research

-Make a friend.

He didn't achive any of these goals, he found that everyone who said was his friend, double dealed and lied to him behind his back, from Dax to Irith no one truely was his friend and his life really just turned into a grand tragedy which went on for weeks as he robbed and mugged his way to let coin fill the gap that love left in his person.

His decay to his current state started with living in upper, he tried to make friends with Abala or any one really who would listen and give him the time of day but as more and more people didn't want anything to do with him, he slowly grew more bitter eventually after a task into the lowerdark he was in his mind at least "Abandoned" by the party who went with him below to the hells.

He would then try to sell himself entirely to the devils in any way that would preserve the weedle that was, he wanted to give his all but keep his spirit and body. In the end when he was told that "I don't need souls or anything you can give me, your just an amusement" he grew disenchanted and worked to destroy the connection as even the devil he had thought could love him simply as a favorite toy did not.

And so he retreated even deeper into himself as he made his home in lower, only finding hatred after interactions with the pissrats he was practically ran out of town by Gwen and Cartwright, and so he made his home in the Pyrimo. Thinking that Intryzz would be his friend where all else were not. Taking his advice and bringing movement to his inn as the base of operations for the Friendlymen. He would stay there until his end, discovering as he died that no one cared for him or told him the truth.

No one truly loved him as a friend, a toy, or, a tool.

Theres pages more to this story, but a lot of it is still current IG so I'll let that go as it will.

As all tales go with devils his came to an end with a deal with the devil finally reaping its reward of him.

My screenshots sadly are few due to some corruption in my files but here is what I saved.

Some Screenshots, for your viewing pleasure of his end.
[Hide=How it started]
Before the first roll...

And after...

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[Hide=How it ended]
The end..

And what happens in it..

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[Hide=The Story I wrote for the winter story contest]
A surprise on the night of the winter festival.

The night started with the crackle of fire and fruity scent of rich punches that fill the air. The winter festival of waterdeep was starting and a pale figure gazed out the window of his father’s estate. The man thin and wiry with heavy robes clutching to his flesh like leaves to a tree, as he peered out the frost covered window he chuckled softly and gazed over his room.
They had a single maid, a brown haired girl called Helia who never could quite finish what she started. Half-done decorations and a box of left overs decorated the far side of the room, while the one he was on was barren and plain. Simple wooden floors, slightly cracked windows the only saving grace was the fact that they had a handful of stories on the impoverished people below and a solid stone foundation and cellar which his father had allowed to be emptied of its wine for the occasion. As he peeled off his blood spattered and chemical covered robes akin more to a hedge wizard then the son of a noble of any standard even one that was barely more than a merchant.
He dressed himself in slightly festive robes which had snowflakes styled on its hems and along his back a coil of green was stitched to give the impression of vines and holly. He then pulled one two impeccable gloves, replacing the ones he was wearing for his surgeries in the cellars depth. These no longer had the fingertips dyed red in the blood of patients but glistened a pristine white like the snow that floated outside.
As he stepped from his room on the second floor heading to the main dining room on the first to join his family in the celebration the servant known as Helia bumped into him right outside his door. Her expression was one of pure shock and horror as he crashed into her and they both toppled aside. Johnathen Weedle simply stared, having caught an ear at his door left him not only shocked but more then a bit curious as to why a servant was eves dropping on a man alone in a room. He raised his brow patiently waiting an explanation and the humble girl extended a now slightly crushed package with shaking hands.
The woman must have spent more than a month’s wages on the small silver coated iron snowflake she handed him. The edges slightly bent from the fall but it still kept its overall beauty of a sort. It seems she spent a good time polishing it to give it a shimmer more akin to its brothers which fall from the sky. But as everything she did it was half finished the other side still held the dull glint of unpolished metal and Johnathen simply smiled and dips his head politely to the girl. At a loss of what to repay this lavish gift, at least by the servants standards he looked about and pulled something from his belt, a beautiful yet dull silver knife used for crushing certain fruits and animal parts in his alchemical studies. Worth its weight in gold due to the runes inscribed on it he offered it to the girl without a second thought.
She stared in utter surprised at the return of the favor and took it with a dumbfounded face.  In all honesty Johnathen was rather cross to be without the knife but he would not be shown up in generosity by a servant girl and it was all he had to hand. He gave her a soft smile, the most well-rehearsed weapon in his arsenal of dealing with people and made his way down stairs. To indulge in a night of grander comforts then normal and spend what time he could with a family he rarely saw. One could say its hard to be the child of a man who’s head is so far into his work he doesn’t know his son chops up bodies in the basement and a mother who rarely speaks to him to know that he never followed his proper studies but instead went to more than a handful of academies and universities which had less then savory reputations for safety in their research. But it seemed that this one servant girl paid a mind to him, he would have to repay the favor one day, but this day… This day was for a oft neglected family, and he planned to make the most of it.

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Thanks to everyone who rped with the friendly men, and most importantly thank you to the people we robbed or mugged and how well you took it OOCly, I apreciate everything everyone did for this concept, DMs and players alike. I look foward to my next one, and I hope you all enjoyed this one.

[goate]

Good villain Zango.  Every time I walked into Sanctuary, people were talking about how much they hated Weedle in the square - so you know you were doing something right.

Would love to find out what was going on in the background someday.

[efuincarnate]

Weedle, Weedle, Weedle, we spin our Mr. Weedle.  Always great to see villainy  done well take center stage.

[Dillusionist]

:(

I had only surface interactions with him. But I liked his characterization as a mouth-breather looking for a friend. You put a lot of detail into that aspect of him and it showed.

[FromTheRooftop]

smoke weedle everyday

[granny]

A shame you crashed when we first got to truly interact T.T

[SanTelmo]

Playing with the devils is no game for mortals. =(

I hope we see another of your characters IG soon enough!