Travelling Writer. Cultural Cartographer. Professional Eavesdropper.
Name: Thistledown Quillweaver
Age: forty-something (he won’t say precisely, but there are notes in the margins of earlier articles that suggest 43)
Race: Human
Occupation: Travelling Writer & Correspondent-at-Large for The Lindral Observer
Current Title: Society & Travel Columnist, Self-Appointed Regional Folklore Specialist
Pronouns: He/Him
Known For: The “Letters from the Dustier Roads” series, infamous for footnotes, feuds, and one near-duel with a butter judge
There are few corners of the realm untouched by the soft scuff of Thistledown Quillweaver’s boots or the sharper scratch of his quill. A writer for the Lindral Observer for nearly two decades, Thistledown made his name (and at least four pseudonyms) chronicling village politics, peculiar festivals, and the deeply personal mysteries of jam.
He is best recognised by his half-kimono, half-courier aesthetic, a well-worn satchel stuffed with ink-stained notes, and a disarming smile that has opened more doors (and pub tabs) than any official credentials ever could.
Charming, nosy, and quick to laugh — Thistledown has a way of making himself welcome just about anywhere, often by knowing something about your great-aunt, your prize marrow, or that unfortunate incident involving a goose and the mayor’s trousers. His stories are known for their wit, warmth, and tendency to deviate wildly into parenthetical footnotes.
“I don’t collect gossip,” he claims. “It simply lands near me.”
Though he once described himself (without irony) as a “national treasure in soft trousers,” most readers forgive the flourish. His popularity endures because beneath the showmanship and self-quoting is a sincere affection for the people he meets — and an uncanny ability to find the soul of a place in the small things: a local saying, a burnt crust, a mispronounced river.
Now nearing his fortieth publication (or so he tells us — no one has counted), Thistledown shows no signs of stopping. He continues to travel, write, and flatter innkeepers in equal measure.
Favourite phrases:
- “Now, this is strictly off the record…” (It never is)
- “I’m something of a folklorist myself.”
- “May I borrow your chair, your ink, and your grandmother’s recipe?”
- “Just passing through — unless you’ve got a story.”
