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Volli Steamsifter

Character Full Name: Volli Steamsifter

Character In-Game Name: Volli

Nickname(s): N/A

Race: Gnomish

Class: Warrior

Age: Sixty-two.

Sex: Female

Hair: A mess of waves and curls put into a ponytail, though quite unkempt most of the time. Also graying a bit on the sides, most likely a result of great amounts of stress more than age.

Eyes: Bright blue.

Weight: 39 lbs. Her physique is toned, but a bit heavier than average due to muscle mass.

Height: 2'7". A few inches shorter than average Gnome height, which makes her stocky.


Usual Garments/Armor: Occasionally wears a patchwork scarf of many different hues. Her overall attire is usually leather, built with various pockets and buckles. A pair of finely crafted, yet dearly loved, goggles dangle from her neck.

Other: N/A


It is hard to pinpoint the precise traits that stand out in her personality. Hers is a quiet way, usually not keen on speaking due to her solitary way of life. Her rebellious streak has continued to cling to her subconscious even through the years of maturation, years spent seeing the world.

To those she grows familiar with, however, she is a keen wit, a creative mind and a loyal ally. She tends to grow giddy at any possible prospect of an adventure, and the thought of traveling and seeing all different walks of life is something she daydreams about often.


A birth, organic among the metal and inventions. It was not abnormal, no. In fact, the girl's childhood was quite as normal as could be. Proper mechanics training, book after book studied, read and then material implemented. She lived in a world full of flashing lights and cranking gears. She lived in a world that spared nothing to its people. Gnomeregan was one of the grandest mechanical achievements in the history of recorded time. Volli lived in a world of progress.

It can easily be wagered that most Gnomes, when not limited on resources, vouch to use whatever means possible to achieve a goal. "Buy it, use it, break it, fix it, trash it, change it - now upgrade it." Only rarely was it ever, "Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without." The city and its economical growth was booming! Why bother recycling something unloved, or take the time to use things sparingly? It was a question that Volli continued to ask herself, more frequently after she began taking trips outside of the city with her friends to go sledding, get frostbitten. To enjoy the grandeur, the white landscapes that Dun Morogh had to offer them through peaceful, simple nature. When she was in her thirties, Volli had a bad habit of raiding abandoned factories and mooching off of people who had no use for some of their old, busted inventions to gain her own small inventory of parts and materials.

At age fifty, Miss Steamsifter had established her own business in the form of a "pawn shop." The Gnome would buy and sell used parts, as well as her own inventions created, pushing the envelope to see how fuel efficient and clean running she could make them. Business was never really in the realm of booming, but the Troggs that were soon to terrorize the city made the shop's customers drop to an even more drastic number. She soon had no choice but to begrudgingly close.

The realm of politics was another issue that Volli fiercely, yet silently opposed. The combined efforts that were being implemented by the higher ups to dispose of the Troggs was something she found less than favorable. Using toxic bombs, even in a closed off area of the city, was something that didn't quite sit well with her. In her heart of hearts, perhaps she agreed with it under the knowledge that nothing else seemed to be working well enough, but her gut feeling kept nagging at her to be persistent in the idea that it was wrong, wrong, wrong. It would be a biological hazard that might take quite a while to clean up. What would they do about the fallout? What if the coordinates and calculations ended up being imprecise, even by a thousandth of a percentile?

Her paranoia only grew into a confirmed bitterness when the idea ultimately turned into a historical mark of hell and chaos for the current inhabitants of the great, mechanical city of Gnomeregan. Her family was either dead, wounded or lost, her inventions had to be left behind, and Volli Steamsifter was left with no more than a bad taste in her mouth and a mind plastered with terrifying, gruesome memories that would be forever welded onto her very soul.

When the "Gnomeregan Exiles," as they had been empathetically named, retreated to the safety of Ironforge and the welcoming, helping hands of their Dwarven cousins, Volli couldn't seem to come to terms with it. She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around how careless, how foolish her race (including herself) had been. Blind eyes that chose what they wanted to see. Deaf ears that chose what they wanted to hear. During their time of great need, it was more understandable, but retrospection had caused a growing doubt to spring and fester. The result of it all had been the loss of well over half of the Gnomish population, and a "Traitor King" who had clutched the council by the throat on behalf of his own greed. She couldn't take it anymore.

Instead of sitting around, feeling sorry and regretful, the Gnome left Ironforge. She left the bustling city life and took up the mantle of a wanderer. She would make her own way, for once, for herself. She refused to be ignorant any longer. How she survived for the first half of a decade was probably out of dumb luck, assertiveness. Out of taking a chance. She learned things that most Gnomes didn't bother with: hunting, fishing (one of her favorites,) salvaging, enjoying nature for what it was, wherever it was. She'd even decided to dabble in working off of both organic and mechanic ways of tinkering. In her first years of being a nomad, Volli learned how to survive.

The last half of the decade up to the present served to harden her wholly as a person. As of more recent events, Volli Steamsifter still lives on her own, wandering barren wastes and green forests. Seeing her in a city is a rarity, but there's little doubt that she'd catch a look or two by the rustic way she dresses, or the large, burlap sack she totes over a shoulder, filled with dusting off and starting over again.