Male Gnomish Druid
Details: 3ft tall, Blue/Green eyes, spiky brown hair (now looks more like a bushel of antlers on his head, needs a bath)
Name(s): Twig, Tinder, Odd one, Forest Face, High Top, Son, Sonny, Starlight (my mom uses that one, its sort of embarrassing), Ironwood (my dad gave me that one), stinky, Sap, and a couple more that I don't want to mention. Please, just call meTwig.
History:
I'm a Gnome and after reaching the age of 30 left my home to tend lead my true passion of protecting and caring for nature. I didn't venture far, after finding out that no druid protected the forests that cover the hollows of my people, I swore my vows to the Druid Elders to protect that Grove. My home protects my clans homes. This is of course a well kept secret, but significant to me. My grove is mostly forest with a lot of hills and mountains.
My Mom (Bolts) is a master engineer and my Dad (Nuts) was a biologist. Those aren't their first or even last names, they are the names I've given them. If you want their real names then go ask them yourself. I refuse to call them by them. My Dad was typical over protective parent, and knowing that the oaths of Druidhood wouldn't allow me to wear the full plate armor that he would normally have me wear, he commissioned my Mom to make a Breastplate of wood that would look as natural as the Great Oak. Using inspiration from the sacred tree that grows deep and well hidden in my grove she fashioned a full set of Breastplate armor from wood only. It took her most of a year to shave a little here, and a little there and remove this piece to fit a better piece, or three better pieces for more controlled movement and less restrictions. She was very focused on me being able to wear this all of the time while tending my grove. She knew if I had any regular old armor I would just discard it and not wear it. Its like when a Gnome gets his first pair of work goggles at the age of 10 and if they don't fit well or are old and used the lil'gnome won't use them and ends up with "eyes full of coal". That is where the song originated that bards tell in most every bar across the land but they clam it was the great King Halvar from the East Lowlands that stole the mines from the Dwarven King Kelnock. Though that is true, King Halvar never set foot in those mines to get coal dust in his eyes. Humans are so gullible I digress. It was magnificent. It fit perfectly. It was made for me and me alone. That's not even the most special part about it. My dad then took the set of armor after I tried it on to make sure it fit perfectly, and locked himself away for weeks. He said he had one last act to perform. It's taken me years to understand what he meant. He emerged from his private study two weeks later. He was thin, with eyes sunken, back hunched, and what seemed 100 years added to his already 300 year life. His health decreased quickly after that, as if it was being stolen from him. Whatever he did while working with the armor stole his essence Maybe a wrong spell, or maybe he just used his essence to fuel the magic needed. That set of armor is now imbued with a spell that hardens it to imitate iron. It cannot be burned, we've tried, and it cannot be dented, we've tried. I have heard some call it ironwood, I call it a gift. I've never taken it off but to bathe. It fits better than any clothes I have, its thin enough and there are enough moving parts that I can move very well, and I feel a sort of comfort when wearing it. As if my dad is protecting me.
Chester, he's my companion. Yes he is huge, yes he slobbers no he doesn't like strangers well at all, and hes he is my best friend. You can't understand him but I can. We've had many intelligent conversations, many of which revolve around profound riddles of life. He has stumped me on many occasion. Oh that reminds me of the one about a stump, a rabbit and a three legged elephant. oh wow, that one was hilarious I digress. Chester is an Irish Wolf Hound (see pics). I found him one day after I decided to visit all of the neighboring cities to spy on the inhabitants to see if I needed to put up extra guards or precautions depending on the hostility of those cities. After entering my third city I spotted a hulking bearded man I shall call hence forth as Pan Face. Mainly because his face was huge and round and flat like a pan. Pan Face thought himself Lord over Chester and had severely beaten, neglected, and malnourished Chester. I could see that Chester's back left leg was broken and had been for what seemed a year. After Pan Face yelled profanities in the Common tongue a language whose profanities are quite obnoxious, he picked up and threw Chester into his house. Chester yelped and clawed his way to the back yard where he hid under a pile of logs. Now most 3.5 foot dogs can't hide under much at all, they're just too big, but with the abuse that Chester received he had dug out a nice little burrow of sorts under the pile and disguised it so as not to get in trouble for digging. I told you he was intelligent. After shaking myself from the shock of animal mistreatment, I hurriedly got out of the way of a speeding wagon full of cow dung and returned to the woods. That night I snuck into Pan Face's back yard and spoke with Chester for the first time. Chester was born in the wild to a domestic run away father, and a wild mother. He told me of how he was stolen as a puppy before he was weaned. And taken to the city to be a guard dog. After some training with the city guards a thief stole him and sold him in a dark room to a small skinny half human. He spend weeks in a dark cage next to many animals in similar cages. Then at last he found himself here. He rebelled and has tried to escape many times. So Pan Face, Chester called him that too, broke his leg to keep him from running away. I've never felt such rage and anger in all my life. But Chester being the level headed one calmed me down and pleaded with me to let him be the one to exact his revenge. So I healed his leg, unlocked the back and front doors, and waited out front. there were no screams or signs of struggle. Chester walked out the front door, asked me to hop on his back, and we disappeared into my grove. I've never seen Pan Face since, though I've never gone back to see him, but I believe that he's still alive. Maybe he's missing a leg or something, but I don't believe Chester killed him. Though he could of, and easily, it doesn't seem his way. Chester has never left my side since. He has all the freedom he wants, but he chooses to stand my my side. He insists I ride on him for long distances, mainly cause of my short legs and he gets impatience. We've looked for his family, but have yet to find them. I've promised him one day when our grove is secure enough, we will set off on an adventure to find his parents.
Kalios a Half-Elf Ranger (Mike a friend of mine) are old Hunting buddies. How did Kalios and I meet you ask? It was back after I had met Chester and after I finished visiting all of the surrounding cities, I discovered a pack of Orcs had taken a liking to my grove and decided to move in. This didn't settle well with me, so I started retaliating and fighting to drive them out of my grove. We call this the "Orc Infestation" because they cut, burn, annoy, and smell. Kalios tracked this group of Orcs to my grove and immediately started helping. With Orcs being his sworn enemy, he proved to be a very valuable asset to the fighting the infestation. I learned many tricks of how to kill an Orc. Most were very painful for the Orc, and a couple were silent ways of taking an Orcs throat out. After weeks of fighting we drove them off my land. During the war Kalios discovered that I could us magic, especially healing magic (which we both used a lot of) and we also became friends. He stayed for several weeks after the fighting and even found a quiet spot in my grove that is now named "Kalios Pond". Since he leads a nomadic life, he couldn't stay long and decided to adventure off. Throughout the years he visits often and we hunt a lot, mostly Orcs and vile creatures. There have been a couple of times he has asked me to accompany him on an adventure to lend magical support. Those adventures have always proven worthwhile and fun. I always bring back a souvenir for my mom.
