Hero

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WeeFree Joey 5

level 121

☥ Chalupa!!!

Age 12 years 5 months
Personality neutral
Guild Ankh-Morpork City Watch
(captain)
Monsters Killed about 727 thousand
Death Count 302
Wins / Losses 44 / 52
Temple Completed at 08/10/2013
Ark Completed at 12/19/2015 (481.8%)
Pairs Gathered at 07/30/2018
Book Written at 07/24/2023
Souls Gathered 14.6%
Savings 24M, 590k (82.0%)
Pet Unbearable grizzly Boo 11th level
Boss Zodiyak with 201% of power

Equipment

Weapon piece maker +135
Shield aegis of absolute protection +133
Head eleven-gallon hat +133
Body oktobervest +132
Arms not-so-smart watch +131
Legs surround sneakers +131
Talisman extra chromosome +131

Skills

  • mass effect level 135
  • fanned fingers level 132
  • stifling embrace level 129
  • teeth gnashing level 121
  • effect of the groundhog level 116
  • fake smile level 113
  • mating contact level 111
  • lion belch level 110
  • unbearable boredom level 106
  • navel clamp level 52

Feats

  • ⓶ Feed hungry tribbles with regular ones
  • ⓵ Die to a monster and lose 15k gold

Pantheons

Might1695
Templehood7942
Unity1
Popularity2
Duelery3
Adventure4

Achievements

  • Honored Animalist
  • Honored Careerist
  • Honored Martyr
  • Builder, 1st rank
  • Favorite, 1st rank
  • Renegade, 1st rank
  • Savior, 1st rank
  • Scribbler, 1st rank
  • Shipwright, 1st rank
  • Freelancer, 2nd rank
  • Hunter, 2nd rank
  • Moneybag, 2nd rank
  • Saint, 2nd rank
  • Champion, 3rd rank
  • Raider, 3rd rank
  • Scientist, 3rd rank
  • Soulcatcher, 3rd rank

Hero's Chronicles

  • I was bornded then found a sword and now I stab bad guys in the face, die a lot, get rebornded and start it all over. The end. Ok maybe it’s just the beginning. Unfortunately due to our hero’s lack of communication skills and ability to write, his Chronicles have been taken over by his God. Now they are the Guapo MacFeegle Chronicles and reflect his journeys. It may not be what the chronicles were intended for but I like a little diversity. My other self, Txdesertrat, and his hero, Rancid Meat, can hopefully stick to the original intended use a little better. There is also a noticeable lack of dates which is intentional. Time is relative and I’m not too keen on relatives anyway. Especially the kind who come to visit and overstay their welcome. The majority of the events have also been recorded in the guild forum but here they are laid out in order and only those in which he participated. Some have been slightly edited and tweaked to smooth them over or correct mistakes. I hope you enjoy and if you don’t then you smell funny and nobody likes you.
  • Guapo MacFeegle peered nervously from the mouse hole he currently occupied. He had heard there was a party and knew from past experience that when bigjob gods got together in a group, tasty morsels and even tastier beverages tended to find their way into his possession. Typically a loner, this extremely handsome god decided to bravely venture forth to replenish his supply of special sheep liniment. He pulled a battered flask from underneath his ragged and stained kilt and poured the last of it’s nourishment into his dry mouth. “Crivens!” he exclaimed as the last drop flowed past his lips. Looking sadly down at his now empty flask, he shivered. He knew if he didn’t act soon that he would face an evil so wretched that no man, god, or Mac feegle should be forced to endure it. The vile creature know as sobriety. Gathering his courage, he straightened his kilt and strode forth into the light where he promptly tripped and fell flat on his face. A chorus of words that would cause a sailor to blush and cover his ears, leaped from his mouth. Standing up, he kicked at the innocent dust bunny who had inadvertently been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He picked up his warrior’s helmet, which consisted of a thimble with a thumbtack glued to the top to prevent bigjobs from placing a foot where a foot should not be placed, and put it back on his balding head. Guapo MacFeegle then strode forth determined to locate the finest liniment with which to refill his sad little flask.
  • Guapo MacFeegle is momentarily stunned when one of the bigjobs approaches him. His first reaction is to leap into the air and attack but something about the bigjob stays his hand. When she offers him a wee dram he knows he made the right decision. He removes his helmet and bows deeply introducing himself and agrees to the drink which is promptly poured into his helmet, now turned over and held by the tack like an odd wine glass. A small amount sloshes from the helmet and where it touches the floor begins to bubble and hiss. After two more helmets full and a topped off flask, Guapo decides this is one bigjob that is worthy of his loyalty. The party as far as he is concerned could not be better. Another gulp from his helmet only reinforces his opinion.
  • Streaks in like a flash of blue and red lightning. “Did I hear tell of free drinks?” From across the disk our tiny watchman has traveled in record time. Even beat the previous record held my Mortimer Petty, the famed number 43 racing slug. Amazing how motivated one can become when spirits are high…and free.
  • Sits quietly just inside a mouse hole where the previous owner suddenly decided it was in his best interest to abandon the residence in favor of a safer location. Every mouse knows once you see a Feegle in your house there are probably dozens more you don’t see. Anyway the smell and destruction tend to lower the value considerably. Just biding his time, knowing that everyone can’t keep their eye on their drinks at all times. Sooner or later someone will look away and when they look back they will wonder at how they were sure they weren’t emptying their mugs quite as quickly as it appears.
  • Our incredibly handsome and charming young Guapo MacFeegle awakens to find himself laying surrounded by rather auspicious looking rats. Many are missing patches of fur and appear to have been in some sort of violent struggle at some recent point. Guapo rubs his head and attempts to remember the events of the last few days. The last thing he remembers clearly is that the beautiful Susan Sto Helit left the most potent and remarkable bottle of sheep liniment next to his door. From that point on everything appears to have occurred in brief flashes. There was the borrowing of a large wooden leg, racing up the Hogswatch tree to practice battle techniques with the round Feegles dangling from branches and shattering like glass when hit, the terrorizing of the local feline population, and lots of taste testing random drinks to ensure no one was attempting to poison any of the patrons. No. Sounds normal but something just didn’t sit right and he wasn’t referring to the large rat desperately trying to sit on the bloody lump where his tail once resided. Glancing out of the door of his recently acquired rodent home, he noticed a paper lying on the floor stating Hogswatch had ended days ago. What could have occurred to leave him so confused? Standing up and brushing himself off he noticed he had a new belt. Must have been a gift from the Hogfather. It was a little bloody on one end but still nice and bore a striking similarity to a rat’s tail. Well no time for that now as our young traveler begins his investigation about how his memories were stolen and looking forward to gaining retribution from the obviously evil mastrmind who might be responsible. Up he stood, walked over to the exit an thus begins the story of our brave friend on his mission to locate his memories. In the blink of an eye our tiny detective vanished with not so much as a pop or swhoosh. Be wary citizens. The game is afoot and a confused and possibly dangerous Feegle is going to stop at nothing to recover those lost minutes. “Well I guess I can stop off for a short drink first.”
  • Sitting up here on this shelf, partially concealed by an over ripe slab of cheese, I begin my investigation into my missing memories. So far all I have learned is that some type of Haggiversary is happening. It seems like a good place to start since hags are known to tinker in strange stuff of that sorts. Maybe while I’m at it I can figure out why I was raised by that nice human family after the first time my memory took a vacation. To this day I can hardly understand what most Feegles are saying. Just sounds like a lot of achs and drawn out words. No matter. I tend to communicate better with my fists anyway. I have to have originated in some clan. Maybe I’m just destined to be the speaking, writing, semi knowledgeable, Feegle who has himself as a clan. I’m ok with that and no. My drink splashed into my eyes. You’ll be seeing no tears on this face tonight Death of Rats. Don’t know who you’re here for but you should be off before you blow my cover. The Death of Rats turned to look an Guapo and gave a rather bony but sheepish looking grin to him. With that he turned and scuttled, as best a rat can with bones for feet and a long robe, into the small hole at the back of the shelf. When Guapo turned back around to continue his surveillance, he noticed an ornate jeweled little cup in front of him. He could already tell it was a fine liniment from the scent alone. This entire thing has a Hag scent around it but when has a little nip to warm the bones ever hurt anyone. He lay on an old book with dusty pages and began sipping while he listened to the patrons for any clues. Wow this liniment is both rough and soothing. Guess I’ll just close my eyes for a short res……..
  • Oops. Forgot about that fourth wall being there and walked right through it. Ok I definitely have to stop drinking random cups I find and going off on these hallucinatory spirit journeys where I think I’m a middle aged Texan involved in a strange type of game that isn’t a game. And what’s a Texan anyway? Oh well, I still have an investigation to conduct.
  • Why do I smell peanut butter? Possible clue as I remember when I was found there was an extremely rare brand of peanut butter bottle used as my basket. It was called Michael Pot. Now to sniff out this butter of the peanuts.
  • Our pint sized protagonist warily enters through his favorite hidden entrance. Even through the dull pain and extreme exhaustion he can feel something is different. Normally he pops in now and again in order to wet his dry throat and stealthily listen to other patron’s conversations to gather information. Never for anything nefarious, simply because he is a firm believer in the more you know the better prepared you are. This time instead of the usual slap in the face from stale beer and smoke, he feels a slight tingle in the air. He can’t quite put his finger on the source but he is sure he’s felt it before. Not at all unpleasant but more of a calm and electrically charged feeling. It’s quite nice and the atmosphere seems to reflect it. Shrugging his shoulders he wanders through the re purposed rodent tunnels until he reaches his favorite spot. Kicking off his boots and lowering himself onto a comfortable position on the roof rafter, he opens his tiny cabinet where he stores various odds and ends. Taking out a small bottle and a thimble he pours a cup of the good stuff. He finally decided not to question how every time he returned the bottle of exquisite liniment was again full and waiting for him. He had an idea that the lovely hags of this establishment had more than a little to do with it. Over the last few years of frequenting this place he had become quite fond of them even though he rarely spoke. He eventually discovered their names were Sasha and Pasha. He knew there was another Feegle present that had laid claim to them. It made him feel good to know they were well watched out for. The hags were making their way from table to table receiving congratulation and smiles of approval from everyone. Not sure what it was for but he knew it was well deserved simply because of who they were. Shortly he observed the Watch Commander, Azzageddi, raise his cup and propose a toast to the hags. Lifting his tiny makeshift mug, Guapo MacFeegle drained it dry. Smiling and feeling better than he had in a long while he poured another cup and lowered himself into his reclining chair made from rabbit fur and wood. The fur had been procured form a rabbit who had died of natural causes. The natural being he had been naturally hungry. The last few weeks had been a little tense searching for his origins. After following up on several leads he had hit a dead end. He was no closer to discovering where he came from than when he first began looking. He was beginning to think it really didn’t matter as long as he knew where he was going. At least he wasn’t all jumbled up like the young MacFeegle who had taken to following him on occasion and calling him “The Holy One.” He was a nice enough fella but seemed just a little off up top. He also had a bit of difficulty understanding the MacFeegle accent which grew progressively stronger the more excited he became. Oh well. As long as it didn’t hurt anyone he couldn’t see the harm in WeeFree Joey doing it. As he slowly sipped his cup, he could feel the familiar warmth begin to spread through him. Relaxing even more he opened his pouch to remove the letter that had been left for him from the Watch Commander. Apparently he was up for a possible small promotion. Something called “Sergeant of Arms.” He wasn’t exactly sure what the new job entailed but he was honored to have been noticed for his dedicated service. Sitting here listening to the others talk and reading his letter again, he began to feel like this was exactly where he belonged. No matter where he came from or what the future held, he thought that for right here and right now things were exactly as they should be.
  • Guapo MacFeegle anxiously watched as a MacFeegle slowly rose from behind one of the rafters. After a moment the strange one spoke in the strong MacFeegle accent common to their kind. Listening carefully, he put together what seemed to be an introduction of Wee Wullie Bigfeets and an offer of drinking and or fighting. While a fan of both, Guapo decided to take him up on the drink as he was still recovering from a vicious battle that had left him a little worse for wear. Offering Wee Wullie his seat he removed another cup from his makeshift cabinet built into the beam and sat down on an old sewing spindle he sometimes used as a table. He recognized the scrappy MacFeegle as the one who had taken to the hags of this place. Guapo introduced himself and poured both of them a cup from the bottle Wee Wullie had produced. To be honest he wasn’t as comfortable as he should have been due to his lack of knowledge about his own kin. While he had a thousand questions rapidly fighting for position in the front of his mind, he decided maybe it was best to just sit back and let the conversation happen naturally. Wherever the conversation carried him he was sure of one thing, it was going to be an interesting night.
  • The more Wee Wullie drinks, the harder he is to understand. On the other hand, the more Guapo MacFeegle drinks, the easier it is to understand Wullie’s accent. Eventually Wullie is teaching Guapo a traditional Nac Mac Feegle song about fightin’ and skivin’ coobeasties an’aw, filling the upper reaches of the bar with incomprehensible “singing.”