Piddlewink the Weaver of the Elements

Skill List

Role

Chapter 3

Striding into Strombohl's School of Mastery with a pep in his step,
Piddlewink slapped the pamphlet down on the receptionist's desk, eager to
learn from the subject of his admiration.

The female receptionist looked at him in disdain before tapping her quill
on an application form and waving him away, gesturing toward a small desk
on the other side of the room.

With a moment of hestitation, Piddlewink grabbed the application and sat
himself in the plain wooden chair at the plain wooden desk. Looking down
at the paper before him, a familiar discomfort began to nag at him.
Wanting so dearly to learn from the best, Piddlewink persevered.

Let's see...

1. Name: Piddlewink the MAGNIFICENT!
2. Affiliations: Entropy
3. Faith: Gaspare
4. Favorite Color: Chartreuse
5. Allergies: VILLAGERS! OFFICE WORK! STUPID QUESTIONS!
6. Special Skills:
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It was at this point that Piddlewink completely lost it, ripping his
application assunder and setting the desk ablaze. Understandably, the
receptionist stood and began to shout, but was met with adhesive webbing
to the mouth as she watched in horror as her desk began to sink in
quicksand.

Piddlewink quickly found that there was far too much red tape and
paperwork standing between him and Strombohl... Perhaps it was the luck
granted to him by the improbability tunnel that allowed him the luxury of
never meeting his idol and the disappointment that was sure to follow.
After all, the idea of Strombohl that Piddlewink had painted in his mind
is an impossible standard to live up to.

Role

Chapter 2

Now liberated from his job and the bonds of society, Piddlewink began his
study of invocation and completed his short stint in the academy, growing
more competent with the elements all the while. After all, he didn't want
to look like a complete novice when he met the much esteemed Strombohl.

One day, in an effort to hone his craft (and for fun), he had began
slinging grease at the unsuspecting monks of Moudrilar's Monestary
alongside his giant companion whom had accompanied him for months now.
Just as the monk-greasing began to lose its luster, the giant spoke to
him. Ordinarily this wouldn't be a big deal, but he had not said a single
word since they began their travels together months ago and Piddlewink
had assumed the poor, dumb, giant to be a mute.

After a brief exchange of sexual innuendo involving greased monks, it was
revealed that the giant had actually been the Baron of Chaos' own
Archmage in disguise all along. Apparently, he had seen some potential in
young Piddlewink. Folding space by means of the tesseract spell, he
transported them both before the Thera-renowned beer elemental, just
outside the old Master's Tower. After a barrage of pointless questions
reminiscent of a job interview, Piddlewink was reminded of the bleak
confines of his old office. Deciding he rather be just about anyplace
else, he let go and allowed the chaos magic of the teleportation spell
whisk him away... Materializing before a young, beardless dwarf, the look
of confusion on his face was as fitting an emotion as any as Piddlewink
was embraced as a Baron of Chaos.

As Piddlewink's knowledge of his craft developed, so did his confidence.
He began managing feats he never would have dreamed of as a mindless
accountant drone. He finally felt ready to pursue the master invocation
classes taught by Strombohl the Magnificent himself.

Role

Chapter 1

Piddlewink grew up in a conservative, risk-averse family that molded him
into much of the same. With his gnomish wisdom and natural knack for
balance, he quickly gravitated to a job in accounting after he had become
working age. His parents approved, of course-- the Scrumbottoms have a
rich history in accounting.

In a bleak, dreary office, sitting in a plain wooden chair at a plain
wooden desk piled high with impeccably organized papers that dwarf his
tiny, gnomish frame, Piddlewink looks down at the cheaply made pin given
to him to commemorate his 25th anniversary working at the bank. As his
eyes digest the fact that his name is horribly misspelled, he lets out a
deep sigh. Although the job security provided to him had been comforting
to him in the past, the weight of the mundane and fruitlessness of it all
began to burden him.

Glancing across his desk, he collected the day's mail and began to browse
it, just as he did every day around this time:

Mummy this, mummy that, magistrate this, magistrate that... Hm, this one
looks interesting... Flipping through the rubbish, he is met with a
colorful pamphlet that reads: "Strombohl the Magnificent, Invoker
Extraordinaire" with brilliant imagery of a caped wizard, seemingly made
of pure mana, spewing lightning bolts from his fingertips as he shields
himself from the flaming breath of a mighty dragon. The corniness was
lost on him, of course. This was the life of adventure that he had been
missing. Glancing down at the bottom of the pamphlet, were the words
"Join the Invoker's Guild Today!".

Just as he finished reading that last line of text, his boss barged in
his office:

"Piddlewink! If you wanna see it to your 50th anniversary here, ya better
have those numbers on my desk by the end of the day!"

That was the last straw. Standing from his desk, Piddlewink muttered an
incantation and set his boss ablaze! No... Not really, but that's what
Strombohl would do! Instead, Piddlewink calmly grabbed the pamphlet off
the desk and walked out, never to be seen there again.

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