Sprizzledizi, Gnome Extraordinaire and Guild Master of the Silver Daggers
Physical Appearance Edit
Startlingly white hair, searing blue eyes, cute and well kept moustache, stocky build and rather short. Has a scar on his lower left arm from a struggle with an infernal during his internship.
Race and Class Edit
Aspiring alchemist and herbalist.
No relatives surviving. His father and mother, Lord Enginorev Maticomoplate and Lady Clutchinomay Maticomoplate, were brutally murdered during the gnome's escape from Gnomeregan.
Still to be completed.
Family Background Edit
Work in progress.
Criminal Record Edit
Stealing candy from the Stormwind Orphanage at the tender age of 7. Has since then learnt to create healthstones.
Personal Notes Edit
Since a mere lad of seven years he had been plagued by horrors neither child nor even a fully hardened warrior should ever face. He had witnessed the cold and almost categorical extermination of his entire bloodline. He still had nightmares… searing flashes of approaching troggs. Troggs in their thousands. Huge, hulking and slavering menaces. Nothing could seem to abate the wave of their cold and bloodthirsty approach. He still could not understand how any race could possess such a relentless hatred. Yet hatred the troggs did possess and it was this cold and merciless hatred that they exacted upon the gnomes.
Most of their warriors were out fighting in the Second War and as such the great city of Gnomeregan had been depleted of much needed reinforcements. For a race devoid of proper intelligence the Troggs assault on the city was severe, merciless and precise. Even though the gnomes put up an extremely valiant offensive the sheer number of the troggs eventually overwhelmed them. Most of the city had already been lost when news of the assault reached the frontlines of the war with the Burning Legion. The gnome army withdrew from the frontline and made haste to try and save their beloved city.
Many brave men were lost on the arduous trek back to their homeland. The distance was covered in a third of the time any mortal race should have done so… It was sheer determination to preserve their identity and culture, a determination to preserve their very existence and right to live, that spurred them on.
Upon their arrival the army found the great technological forward defences of their marvellous city in ruins. Bodies of soldiers, mothers, children and babes lay cold and stiff in the snow. A few had even been ravaged by wolves. Many battle-hardened soldiers retched at the sight of the mangled bodies…nothing more than torn and ravaged pieces of flesh. These had been people with lives and purpose! Now they lay as carrion… had these troggs no mercy? There was no time to show weakness… they had to fight on.
The army quickly filled the ranks of the defenders. Even so the Troggs carried on their relentless assault. There seemed to be no end to this ancient evil… Casualties far exceeded any expectation, yet the gnomes fought on; day in and day out. In desperation High Tinker Mekkatorque declared emergency powers and ordered the immediate venting of all of the city’s radioactive waste tanks. It was his hope that the pollutants released from these would cause the troggs to flee or to kill them – during which the remaining gnomes sought shelter. It did not come to pass and the trogg assault intensified.
The High Tinker eventually ordered the evacuation of Gnomeregan and preparations were made to flee to the great city of the dwarves – Ironforge. An assembly of the survivors – not amounting to more than a few hundred – gathered together to make a final drive towards freedom. Sprizzledizi and his family were among the survivors. He was not known as Sprizzledizi then, but was known as Corveborev. It was customary for gnomes to take the names of famous relatives and once they had proven their own identity to take names of their own.
His father, Lord Enginorev Maticomoplate , had been a senior advisor to the High Tinker and one of his closest friends. He was a legendary mage and a man of many noble talents. He was a man of peace and knowledge and to see his beloved city wrecked by war tore at the very core of his soul.
His mother, Lady Clutchinomay Maticomoplate, had also been a senior advisor to the High Tinker and he valued her counsel. She had been a lady of no significance before her marriage to Enginorev. However, after the marriage she had dextrously and almost hungrily learnt the arcane arts. She had been a true prodigy and after only ten years of training her skill far outpaced that of her husband. Clutchinomay did however never let her abilities cause her to be vain and conceited. She used it for the betterment of her people and together with her husband had instilled magic into many technological masterpieces allowing for the betterment of her society.
The beleaguered party of survivors adventured forth from their place of shelter into the ruined city. The guttural voices of troggs could be heard all around them. Many did they encounter upon their escape. Many did fall at the magic of Lord and Lady Maticomoplate – as only they had been charged for the safety of the survivors. In truth, they alone could match the assiduous attempts of cold murder by the troggs. After several days of hardship and by grace alone, the exhausted party eventually stepped into the cold dawn of Dun Morogh. They had made it! They were free.
As the party entered the dawn light a fierce and guttural cry pierced the stark silence of the surrounding forest. The party stood in rooted fear. A battalion of slavering troggs stood in their path to freedom. This surely could not be! They were doomed… With affection only seen between parent and child, Lord and Lady Maticomoplate paced up to where their son sat cowering in fear. ‘Do not fear that which stands before you our love. Never let your heart falter against that which is good. Embrace love, dignity, honour and duty,’ they told him, ‘Regardless of what you witness today never forget that we are blessed to have you. Out of all the hardships we have endured you are the surest and brightest star in a galaxy of darkness. We love you son and will always keep you close to our hearts. We love you Corveborev. Don’t you forget it boy! We love you!’
With that, they gave High Tinker Mekkatorque a respectful nod and strode forward –hand in hand- with cold dignity and purpose towards the troggs and their impending doom. Never before had such magic been released or witnessed by mortals. The Maticomoplate’s caused a swath of pure fury and destruction to plague the battalion of troggs. Guttural screams pierced the roar of flame and hiss of ice. Devastation alone could not be adequate enough to describe what the Maticomoplate’s wrought. Their wrath had exhausted them beyond help. Their sense of duty and their love for their son and their desire to protect him caused them to push far beyond the limit anyone could muster magic. Their souls were torn from their bodies in the chaos that they wrought… a cold hunger consumed them and they were no longer gnome… It was perhaps fortunate then that a group of trolls broke away from the fleeing troggs and whether by cold fury, desperate fear or an insatiable lust for revenge they attacked the Maticomoplate’s. It is not known if the Lord and Lady were even conscious of their actions or pain. One would hope so for their sake.
The troggs engulfed them in a mass of hard muscle, sharp teeth and vicious claws. At that moment an enormous explosion erupted from the mass of frenzied attacker and impassioned defender. A searing light engulfed the area and even dimmed the bright promise of the sun. As it dimmed a spray of blood was all that could be seen as it drifted into the cool morning breeze and settled as a thin blanket of warmth on the snow. Rivulets of melted snow seeped away under the warm blood. It seemed even nature herself mourned the passing on of such noble heroes.
Current Status Edit
Strengthening the ranks of the Alliance in the Outlands and battling against the Burning Legion.