Wilbur Cookenstein
Race/Class: Rock Gnome Expert (Alchemist/Tavern Keeper)
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Faction: Unguilded (but pays heavy dues to the Fraternity of Order for "licensing")
Appearance
Wilbur is a study in meticulous contradictions. He is a rather stout rock gnome, keeping his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back and his mustache waxed into precise, needle-sharp points. He dresses in the high fashion of the Clerk’s Ward—a starched, high-collared shirt, a silk cravat, and a tailored velvet waistcoat in deep plum. However, this finery is perpetually covered by a heavy-duty, magically treated leather apron that is stained with the vibrant hues of a thousand exotic, planar spices: the neon blue of powdered phase-spider silk, the rust-red of Baatorian pepper, and the shimmering gold of Arborean saffron.
Personality and Mannerisms
To call Wilbur a perfectionist is a gross understatement; he views gastronomy and brewing as rigid sciences governed by universal laws. He has little patience for the "Clueless" who ask for a "simple ale," preferring patrons who appreciate the complex alchemical reactions occurring within his tankards.
Despite his gruff, exacting nature regarding his craft, Wilbur is a consummate professional and a surprisingly good listener. He moves with a frantic, clockwork energy, wiping down already spotless mahogany counters while muttering equations about fermentation rates. He is famously tight-lipped about the dark (the secrets) he overhears in his tavern, viewing discretion not as a moral obligation, but as a necessary business practice to keep the heavily bureaucratic clientele of the Clerk's Ward returning.
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