About Ping Ibbleting
Ping really should have known better.
She ducked under a stack of boards and sprinted to the next intersection before leaning in to try and round the corner. The thunder of armored feet surprisingly close behind. The guards came crashing through the pile of rubbish just as the gnome rounded the corner and saw the lead of them, a comically over-sized curly mustache painted on his face.
She really should have known better.
The guards slowed to round the corner and then picked the pace right back up. Unfortunately for them, Ping had gotten very good at moving very fast for her size. She darted into a busy street and weaved through the crowd and emerged a few seconds later, right in the middle of a group of guards. All of whom were looking at her.
"Uh, Hi! Would you like a song?"
"Ping. What am I supposed to do with you?"
The old, but well dressed man sighed as he sat in a tasteful chair that went with the lovingly carved desk and the chair Ping now sat in.
Well, squirmed in.
"This is the fifth time in two months the guards have hauled you in here after catching you painting on other people's walls. The only reason no one really complains, is because you are a really good artist. That won't last. You're bound to paint the wall of a person who'll not appreciate your work, and they will likely press charges of vandalism."
"B-but I can't help it! I see a blank wall and I can't help but imagine what would go there!"
"I know, and that's where we're at a loss. We don't know what to do with you, the other clergy and I. It also doesn't help that you painted a mustache on that one guard. Although, it was funny."
The priest gives a smile to the gnome before going on.
"Anyway, we have word that a band of adventurers is looking for some of your, ah, skills. Don't deny you have those picks I've seen you use them to get to your brushes a few weeks ago. I'm hoping that a stint with them will curb some of your more, ah, free-spirited activities."
The gnome looked at the small sleepy village, and gave a great sigh. The adventures had scoffed at her when she showed up with a pack full of crafting and painting tools. The fact that, if it wasn't for her mismatched eyes and pink hair, she'd look like a street urchin with the cap she always wore on. She was sent to a small little town to attend to the needs of those who follow Shelyn, and hopefully grow the church some.
She dragged her feet and walked into town. And hopefully a place more accepting of an obsessive painter.
Ping is like most of her faith. She's kind and loves art in all of it's forms. She sings and dances with grace, and loves to play the flute. Her true love, though, is painting. If there is a bare wall, and she has a few hours, odds are she'll have started a beautiful piece before anyone notices. She also likes to make jewelry and clothing, but she lost her tools for the latter after a narrow escape from the guard in her previous home.
She detests goblins and reptilian humanoids, although she'd never harm one unless they tried to harm her first. She gets along wine with just about anyone else, as long as they don't try and stop her from painting.
At 3 feet 2 inches, and 34 lbs, Ping often looks like a young street urchin at first glance. She wears a coat over a long-sleeved tunic and a vest of hardened leather (one of her concessions to the fact she may be fighting). Her pants go over calf-high leather boots that have seen many drops of paint. Her pink hair is covered by an almost too large cap (Like this) that can be pulled down to cover her silver and violet eyes (silver on the left, violet on the right). Her skin is almost normal in comparison to her eyes, being like a very pale human's.