Enizver's page

Standing at just over 3ft tall and fairly slight, many larger races would overlook Enizver, and find the fact he’s carrying a strange looking metal and wood stick with a metal drum of some kind over one shoulder odd at best, but Enizver smiles cheerfully. He keeps grinning when the strange stick is aimed, too, and when he pulls the trigger…

Dark skinned, with wild hair and a neatly trimmed, braided beard, Enizver looks much like most of his kin do. He wears a long, heavy and fur lined coat of the darkest green leather with black wooden buttons over his armour and travelling gear, and an almost comically large packpack with various odds and ends all over it. Much of his equipment is hooked onto this bulging bag.

Atop his wild hair usually sits a wide brimmed hat the same green as his coat with a thick band around it. He speaks in a strong alto voice and typically smells of metals and grease.

Curious and mercurial, Enizver is on a hunt for power and knowledge. For him they are more or less the same thing. The deeper his understanding of the world, magic and existence work the greater things he can create, and the more power he gains.

It would be fair to say that, at this point, that hunt is both the journey and the destination. Enizver currently has no greater goal, no burning ambition or dream he seeks to achieve. Many have been led astray by such a thing, and it’s certainly possible that Enizver could be too, that the lure of power could take him to dark places.

But he also has the loose idea that knowledge such as this could and should be used to make lives better. Take his handcannon, a weapon of immense destructive potential. But just like a bow it can also be used to defend, or to hunt food. With a handcannon and clean kill be performed at a greater distance. Less training and skill is required to use it. And thus, lesser hunters can go from being unable to provide to putting food on the table. A guard could fight off a monster with minimal training and at great range.

Of course, balance is an issue too. Such a change could shift things dramatically. And knowledge could be used to understand those changes and smooth over the worst of it. So for now...he seeks knowledge

A simple Gnome from a simple village, Enizver would likely have remained a simple forest Gnome if not for a simple piece of luck. An old tomb complex, buried deep in the woods, far from everyone. It had long since been picked clean by countless adventurers and monsters, and its traps long disarmed and destroyed, but it was a fascinating place for a young man to explore.

Enizver spent countless hours wandering the complex, studying the images carved in to its walls, the traps in the walls, the bones of its defeated guardians. As he grew older, he noticed something odd. A section of the building in the middle, without a doorway or entrance. He became convinced that somewhere in that section was untapped treasures that no one had been able to find, but also knew that such areas were likely to contain traps, or monsters.

So he learnt the skills he needed to deal with such things, the art of disarming traps or picking locks, and the skills to fight. Perhaps not too surprisingly it turned out the best place to learn such a skillset was the local thieves, who used a combination of blade work, stealth and lock picks to lighten the load of various ‘acceptable’ targets, which comprised mostly of merchants knowing for being especially unfair in their dealings and tax collectors.

Despite this extensive education, Enizver still could not locate the hidden door that he was certain was there. Feeling he was going a little mad, he eventually came up with a plan that someone less obsessed may have thought twice about - taking a sledge hammer to a section of wall already cracked by time and wear.

Surprisingly, it worked. Perhaps more surprisingly, Enizver was right. Beyond the wall was ancient rooms and corridors that hadn’t seen the light of...well, anything for uncounted centuries. In such a time even the finest materials crumble, the most powerful of spells fade, and as such there wasn’t much beyond those walls. Strange odds and ends with just a hint of power remaining, holding the delicate materials together. Stone carvings in tongues no one could speak, now. And in one room a strange tube. Its handle had long since gone, and its body of metal was nothing but rust, and the bronze shells next to it were a mystery...but nevertheless the ruined weapon intrigued Enizver.

Even without being able to read the runes on the wall, the images showed the thing being used. Using those odds and ends to fund it, Enizver bought books of alchemy, learning the principles behind the strange weapon, a firearm of some kind. This one seemed a little different, however, incorporating elements of magic. It took a lot of trial and error, a lot of effort, and more than one pair of eyebrows.

But eventually Enizver had a functioning handcannon. Not only that but he was able to put a bullet through a solid brick wall at 50 paces. Impressed by the untamed lethality, and pleased that his work had also resulted in a solid understanding of magical items if not magic itself, Enizver looked around for something to do with this knowledge and power and realized that it was not suited to a sleep village, nor casual theft the next town over. He yearned for greater things. So he packed up what he could and went to find something more.