About Gilfroy Fezziwig
crossbow bolts        
Light=15(20); Medium=30(40); Heavy=45(60); Current=12.5
Gilfroy was a precocious young lad, the son of a respectable jeweller and baker in Absalom. Gil spent many a day frolicking about the city streets, looking for trouble and always managing to find it. He enjoyed a good prank, like many boys, though he always did his best to make sure that his mark deserved what he got: a wagon driver who whipped his horses a bit too much, a washerwoman who dumped her bucket on the heads of passers-by, or a fruit vendor who was too watchful of her wares with the hungry young gnome about.
Like many gnomish youths, Gilfroy took up a craft; he apprenticed himself to Mim Tiffernale, a local artist and learned how to paint. His parents were grateful for this, hoping against hope that their mischievous son would finally settle down and do something respectable, but at least interesting, with his life. Unfortunately, Mim was equally as incorrigible and encouraged her young charge in his gallivanting, to the point of turning his pranks into an art form in and of themselves. As such, after two years of study, his paintings took on a childish whimsy full of laughter and caprice. When his training was complete, he, showing a fair amount of talent at it, set out from Absalom into the world to seek his fortune. Though he had dreams of painting grand murals and impressive landscapes to grace the walls of the rich and powerful, his talent was far too middling and style too frivolous, and he found himself, a few months later, at his stand in a busy marketplace in Magnimar, painting portraits of passers-by for one silver coin a piece.
Years dragged on with Gilfroy at this menial task before he found the first of many white hairs scattered throughout his usual azure mane. Within a month, his entire head of hair had gone completely white, and the ruddiness was fading from his face. Barely making enough money to survive, he had none for a long journey back to Absalom, especially in his current condition. Resigned to his fate of an early demise, Gilfroy first assumed that dementia was setting in when the portrait he was painting that day turned and spoke to him, calling him by name, and inquiring as to his plans for the future! How he must have looked, staring dumbfounded at the half-finished portrait of the Mierani elven ambassadour's valet! The rest of his portraits that day moved and gallivanted about the canvas in a most disturbing fashion, but at least no more spoke. That night, he bolted himself into the hovel he rented and refused to leave for three whole days. At last, hunger drove him out to work his stand once again, and again, his portraits moved, spoke, and even sang to him. The young couple of newly-weds thought Gilfroy quite odd when the gnome finally worked up the courage to reply to the painting. Aware, suddenly, that he was drawing attention, Gilfroy quickly closed up his stand, made his way home, and hurriedly painted the shadowy image of a woman that came to his mind. Immediately, the painting began to speak to him of illusions and riddles hidden in the world, hidden within the very construction of the world itself. Many of the details of that enchanted lecture quickly faded from his memory, but it excited him anew with zest for life. Colour returned to his features, although his hair remained white. Magic flooded him, and he knew how to use it. A symbol, almost a brand, of seven veils tied end to end in a circle, appeared on the palm of his right hand. Also, he no longer felt alone, even by himself in his tiny apartment. The shadows moved, just on the edge of his vision, tangling themselves in his meagre gear as he attempted to pack for the road, tripping him up.
His heavy artists smocks he left where they hang in his tiny closet, instead choosing simple lightweight clothing he had seen the students at the Irori temple wear. He was not a very strong gnome, after all, and he didn't want anything slowing him down. He sold off all the possessions he could, which wasn't much, and set out once more to see the world, vowing to actually see it this time, and possibly unravelling its mysteries.
He decided to head north; he had no particular reason for choosing north, other than that it seemed a more intriguing direction than towards the known quantity of the Inner Sea region, and he never did like the heat. He figured he'd first head towards the town of Sandpoint, where he heard many interesting adventures had been had by a band of heroes some years back - perhaps more awaited. He didn't get far before finding one of his own: his pony, startled by Gilfroy's constantly shifting shadows, reared and bolted, throwing the gnome to the ground and trampling him. He lay there for many hours, slipping closer and closer to death, until a passing caravan, operated by Koya Mvashti, found him. Koya immediately laid hands on the broken gnome and cast Desna's healing magic into him. The healing spell took an unnaturally strong hold in him, blending with the new divine powers that were coursing through his body from Sivanah, and he awoke instantly. Seeing that he was saved through the kindness of strangers, he decided to travel with Koya's caravan, listening enthusiastically to her many stories, and helping about the caravan as best he was able, learning the tricks of trading.
Sadly, upon arriving in Sandpoint, Koya learned that her aged mother was near death's door. Madame Niska passed away shortly thereafter. Gilfroy tried to console his new friend, and stayed in Sandpoint. As Koya slipped into a depression, Gilfroy tried every trick he could think of to cheer up the elderly woman, even convincing her to make a short caravan trip to Turtleback Ferry and Fort Rannick. It was during that journey when the idea got into Koya's head to take a longer trip to see some part of the world before she passed on. Gilfroy, finally seeing a bit of the old broad's life returning to her eyes, suggested north, an idea onto which she quickly latched.
Gilfroy stands at a height of 3’1”, and weighs a measly 34 lbs. His hair is snow white, though his features are ruddy; a smile is never far from his face, nor a twinkle from his eye. The keen eye of a careful observer might notice, however, that any shadow he casts has a slight skip to its step and an extra flip of its hair.