Trise

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"By twarting the energy flux, we might create a conflagration able to shake Ironforge to its fundations! Are you SURE, therefore, you wish to be the first human in space?" Trise does not offer her services so willingly.

"Do you want a loaf of bread?" ...


Information

Trise in Booty Bay.

Player: Lynoa06

Character Full Name: Trise Firespring

Character In-Game Name: Trise

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): Gnomeregan / Ironforge

Race: Gnome

Class: Warrior

Age: 69

Sex: Female

Hair: Light blue loosely-combed hair.

Eyes: Small, teal eyes

Weight: 38 pounds

Height: 2 feet and 9 inches

Alignment:(Optional.) Lawful / Neutral

Appearance

Clothing

Usually seen in her casual, relatively long robes. She always harbors elaborate designs to her clothing. Her favorite colors are bright, usually red or purple.

Armor

When on a mission (retrieving items, ores, etc.), she rather wears an armor made of intricate, small plates of metal, linked with iron and mithril to each other.

Battling

Trise is quite the mean gnome, but then she does not fight much. If pushed to fight, she'll use various techniques she learnt over time - hamstringing, slipping between legs, hitting on the feet, knees, and for the shortest of her foes, crotch and thighs. She has quite a bit of special tools to get herself out of trouble though - her never-worn armor, and nifty tools that create puffs of smoke, amongst other clever tricks. When they don't explode.

Personality

"Oooh, I wonder what it does..."

If one word could describe Trise, it would be “bliss”. She is indeed a very kind, giving and forgiving person. Always hopeful and cheerful, she displays along with her intelligence a stunning compassion. At such she always tries her best to relieve her friends, even with her scary inventions. This hides a darker side in her, however; she suffered heavily from the loss of her home and was made to understand nothing is truly lasting forever – she is very mournful and grieving, and seeks social interaction over anything, often in mechanostrider races or other technofreak gatherings, often bursting in tears as a friendship or relation breaks or worsens. Unable to genuinely love (she's too manic and her often half-baked, far-fetched inventions would do short work of the dude...) she however hates very good. She hates the troggs and the imposter currently claiming the throne of Gnomeregan, distrusts elves of any kinds, and while she avoids conflict, she has slightly racist views for the elven, tauren and goblin loving horde.

History

A Cosy Childhood

Trise is born about thirty-six years before the Orcish Horde appeared and ravaged the Eastern Kingdom, to a couple of loving guards. Both parents had met while on duty and always stuck together, sharing blueprints, inventions, and even the strikes of battle. They nonetheless had already a whopping two children – 3 and 5 years older. And so Trise ventured forth as a cute toddled, blessed by the neighbors in the bustling city of Gnomeregan. She was, as she grew, a deeply respectful and sedate child. Not bringing too much hardships. This was the exact opposite of her two brothers, always brawling – and as they grabbed speech, cursing. As she turned about ten, she was sent to her first school, in the Halls of Learning of her great city.

She was deeply sociable as soon as she was able to speak. She was always one for games and fun times, as most gnomelings would. Averagely clever, though more than dwarves and humans the relative same age, most of her free time was either spent watching her parents train, or dabbling in a friend's workshop. In their little home in fact, her father had installed each of their children their own private workshops, complete with anvils, springs, and many other things. And though they did not believe much in magic, she was also taught the basics of tossing a fireball or popping bread out of nowhere.

And so for thirty years she went learning more and more advanced techniques. She was believing in the holy Light, a bit doubtful about Arcane, and terribly hateful of Goblin technology. In fact, she considered priesthood once. Yet the prospects of casting holy spells and preaching in a dark corner of the city did not thrill her much, at least much less than fire and explosion and other cool nifty mechanical squirrels. In her late teenage (so to speak) years, she had, under her seers' guidance, completed her first genuine invention – a sort of mine-bomb, filled with dynamite and gunpowder, connected through wires to a remote trigger, and a small delay. In her mind the adventurer springing in the trap would run backwards and explode along with the bomb. She didn't have a particular motive for such a piece of engineering, but she found it fun. And while her peers had quickly sealed the engine away from her nimble hands, they did respect her invention. Upon leaving the cocoon, she was bestowed her related name. Firespring.

On Loving Harmony

But as she turned forty, the outside world was raging with war. Dwarves and gnomes had defended their respective homelands, but the rest of the Eastern Kingdom was repelling the Orcs. The mighty Stormwind had just been retaken, but there was no way she could safely adventure outside. Our nifty gnome decided to stay within the city, dabbling in strange inventions of all kinds. Romance goggles, projectors, shadow scopes, mechanical chicken, squirrels, hawkstriders. And while the outside world was roaring she was more interested in gentle-gnomes, and more than one man left some ashes as Trise experimented. One gnome particularly loved her, and despite burning his long mustache each time some tool exploded in his hands, he spent so much time with her, dating her, babbling about blueprints, and even building some stuff together. In the end, though they did not marry, they crafted a pair of fake alliances. The gnome and her were deeply loving, and for eighteen years, they lived together in utter harmony.

A Tale of Two Cities

Trise testing some armor, seconds after troggs broke in the station.

By the time she reached the age of 59, however, a terrible event would totally change Trise. When Troggs invaded the city, and as she witnessed many of her friends die to their claws, she was forced to run out in the cold. Just in time, for the bombs set to repel the Troggs exploded, leaving most of her race slain or killed in the radiations. She walked for weeks, bemused, and almost died herself, when she found the city of Kharanos. Dwarves there had heard rumors about Gnomeregan, and it was believed gnomes had been allocated a part of the 5th Depth of Ironforge as theirs. Full of hope, Trise wandered there. She was given a home, and found some work for a blacksmith, but never found anyone that made her life. Her lover, her parents, her siblings were believed to be slain. Her own inventions and belongings had stayed in the cursed city. She was stranded, to be sure, and for years she brooded over it. She took the sword – a slim dagger, to human standards – and decided to train. The High Tinker was already enlisting for the retake of his city, and for two years, she trained every day – a bit like her parents, in fact. The rest of her time she relieved herself in eating, so much she became somewhat chubby for a gnome.

The Third War came, and with it the horrors of the current world. Trise was still too weak, as a squire, and was not sent to fight alongside the Alliance. Her trainings were more scarce, and she took some joy in engineering, as she had in the past. Though deeply sundered, and though it would take more time to heal, she crafted more and more inventions, mainly for her blacksmith employer and friend. Those included tubes, nails, hammers of any sort, but also trinkets that would be sent over the Mystic Ward to be blessed and enchanted. This led her to socialize again with fellow gnomes and dwarves; in particular, Frishe, a rather brash dwarvette, who often passed by the smith's office and tiny shop, was interested in her stuff. This gave her new self-confidence, and she began to even form new circles, even though she had much hardships actually letting her friends live on their own.

Almost a dozen years has passed, and the fall of Gnomeregan began to wither in her mind. Yet nothing is yet granted for Trise, and she now travels, defending herself with the sword and a fierce rage – and a wonderful technique to slip in her foes' legs, hamstring them and wiggle away – seeking whatever job or longing could build her life up again. Though if it uses bombs and fuzzy squirrels, then all the better.