Rozy (prime)

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Race Burghal Gnome
Class Sorcerer
Profession Troublemaker
Religion none
Affiliation(s) Order of Voln, Argent Aspis, Sorcerer Guild, [[::Order_of_Lorekeepers|Mentors]], Hand of the Arkati, Drakes Vanguard
In-a-Word different
Disposition fatalistic
Demeanor cheerful, happy, pragmatic
Flaw impulsive
Greatest Strength helpful ((immortal?))
Greatest Weakness kittens, inappropriate comments
Habits skipping, belching
Hobbies cobbling, licking dead people, having fun
Likes merchants, rescuing, rearranging her shop.
Dislikes hypocrisy, lies, fake people
Fears Nothing ((Basillica, Lorae'tyr Valance))
Loyalties friends
Best Friend Cruxophim, Laelithonel, Lylia, Maags, Maylan, Ondreian
Loved One Binklar
Painting by Divone
Painting by Tisket

DISCLAIMER: Rozy's backstory is one that she does not disclose, for obvious reasons. It is here for OOC purposes only.

Rozy (no last name shared) is a Burghal Gnome Sorcerer who is currently a citizen of Mist Harbor. There, she owns a house and a small shop called "Kitten Contretemps" where she does a brisk business in chrism sales. She spends the majority of her time on the Western side of the Dragonspine, visiting and hunting with friends in Icemule Trace, Wehnimer's Landing, and Solhaven. She also spends time creating maps of new areas, and helping new adventurers as a member of the Order of Lorekeepers (aka Mentors), which she enjoys very much. Rozy is best known for her antics involving the capturing and consumption of kittens, and her apparel clearly defines that.


You see Rozy the Rabblerouser.

She appears to be a Burghal Gnome.

She is incredibly tiny in stature and has a dainty-sized body. She appears to be extremely young. She has large, twinkling copper-haloed bile green eyes and freckled purple-sheened skin. She has long, ringleted void black hair arranged in tousled, slightly uneven pigtails and disheveled bangs that slide into her eyes. She has a delightfully pert nose and an upturned mouth. Ever-present dimples deeply mark each cheek, giving her the appearance of constant amusement.

She is in good shape.

She is wearing a metal-scaled miniature hat adorned with an outrageously fluffy set of feathers, a tiny kitten skull locket, a kitten-eared fuzzy calico coat, a taxidermy supply case slung over her shoulder, a soft handwoven linen frock gathered in draping folds and pinned at the hips, a fragile bracelet formed by delicate links, a kitten fur pouch, and some white bow-topped stockings under some adorable kitten fur boots with tiny sharp claw-shaped buttons.


Hat (Mhad)
An outrageously fluffy set of feathers are situated against the side of your hat, accenting it perfectly.
This bit of frippery would look like any normal hat, except for its miniature scale. The high cylindrical sides are scaled with overlapping thin plates of metal, topped with a perfectly flat crown, and painted upon the surface is a huge hand, extending its middle finger. A band of black silk encircles the base of the hat with room for a pretty feather or decoration on the left side, and the entire fashion-forward article looks as if it's meant to be cocked at a jaunty tilt upon its wearers head.
Locket (Japhrimel)
Crafted from a single tiny kitten skull that has been meticulously bleached and cleaned, the skull has been threaded through with silver wiring to hold it together. Set upon a simple silver chain, the skull has been strung facing downwards. The wiring is cleverly wrapped to allow the jaw to be opened and closed, within tucked a tiny wire-enclosed reservoir big enough for a single small object.
Coat (Corlyn)
Layers of soft silky fur envelop the wearer in cozy comfort, the calico pattern decorating the wearer in fuzzy shades of orange, black and white. Adorning the top of the deep wool-lined hood are a pair of perky triangular ears, covered in the same calico-patterned fur that surrounds the rest of the warm garment. Three overlarge buttons fashioned from bone line the front of the garment, each set in a hammered brass gadget.
Bearing the signs of frequent use, a plain black pebbled leather covers a rigid cage of mithril and is clasped with a gleaming kitten skull. Tucked into the spacious interior are small, leather-framed labels, each denoting which item might go into the specific compartments below. Among those in the shadowed depths are "Tools", "Eyes", "Noses", and one named simply, "Bits."
Stockings (Firios)
Slightly dingy yet carefully mended and well-loved, the thick opaque white of these stockings is graced by a repeating pattern of small ragamuffin kittens with extraordinarily large fangs. Each kitten appears to be biting the head of the one beneath it, and the puncture marks ooze nearly black, crimson ruby droplets that seem almost juicy. At the top of each stocking, an oblivious kitten chewing on its own tail forms the knot of the bow, somehow unperturbed by the orgy of destruction transpiring below.


Over the years, Rozy has had several tattoos, some of which she's removed.

She has an inked golden chariot being pulled by a herd of kittens on her back. (Farain)
Outlined with thin trailing lines, a small beautiful gnome sits atop a mound of pillows in a golden inked chariot. Her hands raised high, each throwing out painstakingly detailed bits of rolton treats to the kittens below. Tattooed into the chariot, several lengths of violet and ebon links are attached to row upon row of kittens of mixed breeds. In the front of the group of kittens on its own length, a larger white cat wearing a boldly colored pink wig leads the charge.


Rozy's most beloved pet is her kitten who she calls "Sammich". He lives in a simple cotton bag embroidered with a sandwich, but to date, Rozy has not actually eaten him. Sammich is the only pet that makes appearances with any consistency, as Rozy gets impatient with distractions and noise when trying to help others, especially during merchant events.

a violet-eyed fluffy black kitten
What seems at first to be a ball of ebony fuzz suddenly shifts, revealing a set of large sparkling violet eyes belonging to a little fuzzy kitten. Complete with a huge fluffy black tail nearly as large as its body, and offset by tiny paws with little pink pads, the small creature seems to be well cared for judging from the shine of its lustrous onyx-hued pelt. Strangely enough, what appears to be two slices of bread are tied to either side of the kitten.

Snay-ril was rescued from the sewers at Duskruin, where he had landed after an unfortunate incident in which he was mistaken as a rat. Searching through the muck to rescue him was well worth it, but the infant has yet to learn proper toilet etiquette or how to interact with friends in a proper and civilized manner. He currently stays with a professional squirrel nanny who has made it her life work to re-educate Snay-ril from his wayward behavior.

an oversized acorn cage
a pink-eared baby flying squirrel

Va'Cewm is Rozy's pet piranha, which was given to her by a little girl named Ambie while vacationing on Caligos Isle. Having noticed that it was eyeing Sammich with hunger in its bulging bloodshot eyes, Rozy has taken care to keep the two separate.

a translucent sack
This translucent sack is a little more than half-filled with brackish water. Drifting in the sack is a relatively small piranha, with some decidedly unusual features. The fish's head is too large for its body, and its scales are a muddy brown color. Massively oversized teeth protrude from the fish's jawline, and its eyes are bloodshot, with one twice the size of the other. The translucent sack is held tightly shut with a length of strong wire.

"Tree Rat" is the unfortunate name given to Rozy's pet lizard by one of her favorite warriors in the Drakes Vanguard, Oxxon. Since Oxxon has gone missing, Rozy has been unable to bear the sight of "Tree Rat" for the memories that he brings. For the time being, he seems happy enough wandering in Hale Hall, pestering Kani for cricket treats.

a tiny vibrant rose-hued lizard


Let me begin with saying: I do not know if I am "immortal". It may be that I have not encountered the proper combination of circumstances in which I would be released from this world. I am not undead, at least according to the current ways of categorizing this ailment within the order of Voln.

I was young, once. If you ask others, I still am - on the outside. An odd thing to say for a gnome, but having watched everyone I ever loved or cared about in the slightest wither away and die, to hear the whispers in the halls, I know it to be the truth. An abomination; something to be studied and prodded and examined. The hows and whys are painful in the telling, pulling out specifics from the things I've seen is difficult, due to the nature of my experiences. But after centuries of consultation with the "wise ones" of every walk of life, I have become accustomed to these things. One has to, if you want to remain some semblance of sanity.

The history books say that gnome kind was "discovered" around -4500, but I can tell you without a doubt that we were around much earlier. Gnomes have always been particularly adept at hiding and circumvention of perception, but that is an entirely separate story for someone else to tell. What I know of my mother and father is that they decided to live in a particularly picturesque valley, with willow trees and a river that teamed with life even in the winter months. It seemed a magical place to me at the time, and perhaps it was. I had a younger sister, who was my playmate and co-conspirator in the trouble we would get into. I don't recall fighting with her much, aside from her pulling at my hair when I teased her. My mother would tell us stories of the world, inspiring curiosity in us and the environment we lived in.

One day, there was much excitement in the valley as we had a dark elven visitor who was accompanied by several dwarves and wagons of building supplies. Mother and Father were quick to explain that this would be our new neighbor; there had been a scout many moons ago who was especially interested in a formation of willow and rowan trees that my sister and I liked to play in. They did not seem concerned with this intrusion into our valley, and we were allowed to watch the construction of a spacious house from a relatively close distance. After a few months, the house was complete and the dark elf was suddenly moved in, with minimal fanfare. I recall that there was some trepidation from Mother and Father when they stepped into the willow forest on the grounds to make their welcomes, and Mother became so pale that her freckles stood out; dark blotches on porcelain. Father became very agitated, but Mother brushed it off as nothing. Still, we could tell Father had been spooked by something, and we went home without saying our hellos.

My sister and I were suddenly told that we were not to go anywhere near our neighbor, and especially not to play among the willows and rowans. Of course we asked why, but were met with silence and tight faces. As is usually the case with children we disregarded these orders and went to go investigate on our own. Over the autumn months, we managed to find ways into the house without being observed, and saw the most interesting things within. I was particularly drawn to the basement rooms, where a large circle had been laid out in the floor in mosaic tiles from the most wondrous material I had ever seen, and a laboratory the kind of which I have yet to see again. My sister was more interested in the spacious garden and some statues that were in the chapel, but those held no interest for me.

I felt drawn to that circle, and to the man I found clattering around in the laboratory, so much so that I began to watch him from the shadows whenever I sensed that he would be there. I know Mother felt it too, because every time I felt the tug when I was around her, she would pale just like she had that first time when Father became concerned. Eventually, sister decided to stop coming with me on my travels to the house, stating that the garden was becoming withered and gray. When I explained that it was winter, she stomped her foot and exclaimed that it was different. I pointed out that there was a large library to explore, with many books to read and enjoy. She was never one to care much about knowledge as a child, but that changed, after, and as she grew older as I came to learn.

It became apparent to me in the winter months that our neighbor was aware of my presence in his home. While I should have been wary of this, as a young gnome inquisitive and hungry for knowledge, I thought that this man might be able to teach me something more of the world around me. I spent most of my time reading in the library, and every once in a while there might be a sandwich left at a table, or a goblet of cider to drink "left behind". I allowed myself to think that this arrangement would end up to my benefit, and for a while it was. As the winter months slowly melted their way into spring, I became emboldened enough to watch the man as he worked in the circle, interchangeably writing and chanting, gesticulating and when he wasn't making a steady supply of potions, trinkets and wands. Things would suddenly arrive in the room, but would not be able to cross the circles line.

One day, he put an end to the hiding. With a wave of this hand, he caused the entire room to suddenly flash with a bright light that left me blinking and unable to move. He offered me the opportunity to work with him, as an apprentice. After having devoured nearly all the books in the library, I knew this man to be a sorcerer of great power and I felt that it would be best to not refuse this offer. So I was put to work capturing his daily attempts within the circle in a journal. Some days I would only see a gnashing of teeth, capable of swallowing down a giantman with one snap of its jaws. Other days, a group of small humanoid creatures and the most amazing scenery one could ever see. One fateful day, while I watched my mentor make the preparations of the circle, I noticed his robe had a slight tear in a sleeve.

While he moved his hands in the now-familiar motions to call forth the portal, this tear somehow caught on the end of his belt, causing him to jerk his arm. Being a dutiful apprentice, I noted this down. The portal opened, but it was not the familiar things that we were used to seeing. Everything LOOKED normal within at first glance, except that it had a vivid blue-violet tinge to it. I began to scribble down everything I saw, drawing the flora and scenery as quickly as I could, faster than I had ever done before. Even though my hands moved quickly, the scenery changed much more quickly than I could capture in a sketch. I grew concerned that I was not doing my job well enough, that I might be cut off from this wonderful opportunity of learning if my mentor felt that I was unworthy.

Glancing over at him with concern, I could see that he was strangely open-mouthed, ever so slowly looking from the circle to me. Gauging by the look, this was something entirely unexpected and new, and I would need to tell him all that I observed. Looking up the sky was a yellow hue, not unlike what jaundice shows as, but with no actual sun that I observed. The flora was brilliant colors of emerald green, vivid purples and searingly bright blues, and the landscape recalled to mind a swamp. A sudden warm moist breeze carrying the scents of metal and rot made me feel quite uncomfortable. Pulling my tunic away slightly from my body, I looked down to notice that I had somehow managed to disturb the circle with my foot; I withdrew from the border in alarm and promptly fell over, gasping the dry air.

The rush of the portal closing was all I heard, I could see my mentor was certainly talking to me, but I could not hear anything that was said. I only had the ability to hand him the journal before falling unconscious in an ungainly heap. When I came to, I saw that my mentor had taken the precautions of creating a protective circle around me, and I had food, drink, and clean clothing. Availing myself of the clean garb, I stood up and began to remove my tunic and skirt when I noticed a small insect-like creature resembling a centipede fall out of a fold in the cloth. It scurried about, hiding itself under the nearest shelter - the plate, which is normal for small insects to do. I thought perhaps I had been careless in my travels from home to my my mentors house, picked up a hitchhiker and so I paid it no mind, continuing to dress in the clothing provided.

Eventually, my mentor came back to check on me. His face was cold and calculating, he demanded that I tell him everything. I thought that perhaps this man was not the same person, maybe there was some mistake. I voiced my thoughts aloud, and was laughed at. He told me that I was just a tool to open up the valances and being able to document them was a side benefit, that he had deduced I had some sort of innate talent that he wished to exploit, and that I was not worthy of licking his boot. I was crushed. My mother and father had kept us safe from rampant racism by distancing us from the rest of the world, and now my inquisitiveness had landed me here in this situation. WHY had I not paid more attention to my mother? What was I to do? I debated these things internally, but my face showed the turmoil.

He showed me the journal, and laughed at my confusion. The handwriting was mine, but it was jagged and pointed. The drawings I had made were childlike when I looked at them, but then he waved a hand and they were suddenly intricate in their detail. Another wave, and the images on the page took on a life of their own. I didn't understand how that was possible, I had some skill in replicating observed objects but nothing like this. Was it some sort of magic he was doing? Scoffing at me, he side-stepped and proclaimed that he knew that there was something special about the valley, with its grove of willow and rowan. He set out to lure the power to use it for his own benefits, and obtained a docile little gnome to do his bidding. Thanking me with derision dripping from his tongue, he'd now found another valance to explore.

He cackled and laughed while pointing out other examples of my "talents" in the journal. Page after page of drawings that I didn't remember creating. Dumbfounded, I sat back on the ground, disturbing the plate, and the creature hiding under. Suddenly, my mentor was saying the same things to me again, but the words were not coming from his mouth. The echo was coming from the centipede-like creature, and my mentors jaw hung open for a moment before snapping shut abruptly. The creature made a quick circuit finding the boundary of the circle, attempting to hide under the plate and then finally the clothing I had folded on the ground. Seeing this was too much for my mentor, and he broke into the circle in his rage, pulling the clothing apart in an attempt to capture it. There was suddenly a pulse within the essence, and trapped within the circle we were knocked flat as the veil to the valance was opened and the creature disappeared within.

Screaming with rage now, he summarily dragged me to the circle downstairs and I found ethereal chains restricting my movements. I saw my mentor making his angry preparations with the journal at hand so as to make sure to repeat the same gestures, and then I was tossed bodily into the circle with the last words of the incantation ringing in my ears. I found myself face down in a soggy mass of purple-leafed plants, and immediately tried to find a place to hide and observe my surroundings without being harmed by whatever inhabitants might reside here. It was just an educated guess that the teeth and humanoids were likely not beneficial to ones health if caught out in the open in their own valance, based on the sullen behavior of the creatures when summoned. I had never seen any of them attack my mentor, but this was one theory I was not willing to test at the moment.

It felt like only moments passed when I heard a skittering by my foot. The tiny creature which you now call grantis that had beat a hasty retreat was, for lack of a better word, watching me. I reached out a finger slowly, and I know now that this is not usual behavior, it quickly crawled up my finger to my arm and twitched its antenna on my shoulder. Hearing a large splash in the swamp surrounding us, the grantis quickly hid itself within the folds of cloth again, and I froze in my momentary enjoyment of the moment. A screeching of metal and bird call was all around, there were strangely colored clouds moving unlike anything I'd ever witnessed. It was a good thing I had frozen when and where I did, safely behind what appeared to be a clump of rowan, for a snake-bodied humanoid creature with arms crossed directly in front of us, and I fairly twitched with want for a quill and paper. It was gone quickly, taking no notice of me, so I felt relatively safe that I would not be eaten ignominiously.

My new companion seemed to be comfortable in hiding for the moment, but as I was slowly taking in the strange scenery I felt tentative twitching of antenna on my neck. I became aware of a high-pitched whine from the grantis which I became concerned about, reaching a hand towards it slowly and stopping completely when a much larger one appeared in front of me. I had the momentary thought that it would make an excellent steed for a gnome if there were a saddle on its back, and my companion darted down to join with it. They quickly dashed away together, leaving me to think that perhaps it was a familial relationship, mother or father to child, and my mind drifted to my own parents, likely concerned about where I was. Turning around, I tried to figure out the best way to return to that home that I abruptly missed so much, when I nearly came face to.. well… knee with a tall dark elven woman and her consort walking swiftly through the bracken.

I was so relieved to see another being, correction: TWO beings, from my home world that I almost gave away my whereabouts. Thinking quickly I grabbed two clumps of grasses and hurried after them, thinking that should they come to suspect something following, I could use the grasses as some sort of camouflage. They appeared to be surveying a tree, talking quietly amongst themselves and each with quill and journal in hand like my mentor. This gave me a bit of a shudder to think of his rage and my current situation, but I put it aside so as to concentrate on possibly returning home. They pointed to a low spot under the tree, and I saw them writing notes. They did not move quickly, nor were they particularly adept at drawing the ever-changing plants in front of them, cycling through the seasons and years in but seconds and minutes while the rest stayed much the same.

I withdrew to a more covered position while they discussed how much of a find this was, and that they would need to return to explore this valance again. I watched the female draw a circle in front of them, presumably for leaving, and gauged the motions of her hands combined with the incantation. At the last minute before they stepped within the widening portal, I picked up my skirts and ran into it; eager to leave this strange place.


The murmuring of voices, some angry, some concerned.

The hot sting of tears. A soft hand on my head.

The smell of fire, and of burnt flesh.


Then nothing.

Sweet blissful nothing for an unknown amount of time. I awoke to find myself in a circle much like the one I'd woken in before, but this time I had a bed. I had also been stripped bare and instead of that wretched mentor at the edge of the circle, I counted fifteen elves of varying age. Gradually, I was able to understand that I had been brought to them a large number of years ago by, as they put it, "a concerned former member of the Basilica". I had indeed escaped the valance known as Lorae'tyr, but they were most interested in the fact that my body was still as young and fresh as it had been many centuries earlier when I was first discovered laying unconscious in a willow and rowan grove. They knew nothing of my parents, and I was a curiosity that had been studied at length while I lay asleep.

I will not go into the further examinations, as they are unhelpful for understanding who and what I am, suffice it to say that they were carried out and the best guess was that the travel unprotected from the valance is what caused my particular ailment. I still do not know for certain, but your grey feathered goddess of death does not smile upon me after all these years. After it was decided that I could not cause harm to Shieltine's Ward, a process involving many long weeks of tremendous effort and sacrifice, I was allowed to make my own way in life.

My first trip was to return to the valley my family had called "home". When I finally arrived at the mountain pass, I sensed an insistent sort of pull at my being. I pushed the feelings of concern down, knowing that with this much time having passed, my mentor could not be alive. I made my way into the valley proper, and found the willow and rowan grove much as I remembered it - but that was all. There was no home still left standing where my family had lived, there was absolutely nothing of the building left at all. It was like it had never been there, and I felt a tightness in my throat. Turning to look towards my mentors house, I saw an empty burnt carcass of a shell. Gnarled trees had grown up through the blackened stones and it was a ruin of melted metal, this was a more permanent remnant of my past. I walked further into the grove to avoid the sight and experienced a momentary feeling of deja vu, walking here with my sister and carving our initials into a tree. I sat down abruptly, unable to handle the wash of emotion, my tears dropping on the roots of the willow as I wept for what was lost.

A faint rustling noise, then. A shifting in the world around me. I heard the creak of the trees, a call of some predatory bird, a fluttering in the essence. While I watched, wide-eyed with the fear of being moved back to the valance, a shadow moved at the base of the willow to reveal a box. The noises ceased as quickly as they came, leaving just the normal sounds of the wind. When the sound of crickets resumed, I felt safe enough to retrieve the box and look inside. A letter from my mother. The minute details unnecessary, but she knew about everything, even my time in Lorae'tyr - strange how mothers usually do. My mentor had not escaped judgement, having been captured and put in his own circle with shackles preventing escape while the demons he summoned ate him piece by piece beginning with the inside. I was special, not just because I was her little girl, but also from a line of gnomes who had escaped notice by whatever means necessary during the dark chaos that continually covered the land. I should pursue my knowledge seeking, perhaps I should become a sorcerer. A cryptic message about making the most of time, and staying hidden in plain sight. You will always make us proud.

Eventually I left the grove to find my way in life. Along my travels, I have spent time with trolls (who aren't ALL bad, just most, and usually when they get hungry), learned a few languages, watched the rise and fall of communities, villages, towns and cities. Had riches beyond belief, and nothing to eat for days except what I could lure and catch with my bare hands. I have found that kittens are the easiest to lure for the tenderest of meat, and prepared properly can rival the dishes of any races fame. Learning, always learning. Over the years I have seen the fires burn in the eyes and hearts of men and women, watched the things they worship battle one another like petty children. Watched them mimic the actions of these supposed gods, they all claim to want the truth, but what most really want is nothing near it. They are too easily tricked into passivity; what most really want is safety of some sort. The scenery changes, but the story stays the same.

But what does it matter, they'll all die anyways. Your grey feathered lady will take some of them on the field, believing themselves heroes secure in the knowledge that "it wasn't in vain", others in warm safe beds surrounded by family. I quietly envy them and their ability to attract and keep a mate, while I am stuck in this body, affecting mannerisms to prevent undue attention from the general populace.