Wigoseth was ordinary in the same way that any gnome child could be.
Born in one of many gnome villages, deep in the underdark his people as they
were, and they thrived on trade, while sporting an almost thriving.
Wigoseth's home was one of order, even as deep underground nonexistent
crime-rate. Like most gnome children, he grew up, went to school, and then
when it was time to choose a profession, the academy of magic.
He was in his fourth year at the academy, barely 17 years old, which for a
gnome is still a child, when disaster struck. Their village, which was
normally very accepting of visitors had some new ones. A rather large group
of mercenaries and the like. They were rowdy, and caused trouble in the
taverns, but it wasn't anything crazy at least at first. It wasn't until
they started taking things without paying that the problems truly began.
You see, the law was found, even in a small village like his albeit a more
localized situation. When the city guard moved to put a stop to the chaos
and remove the troublemakers that real trouble began.
Like most fights it was over fairly quickly, but unfortunately for the
gnomes they were the losers. When the fires burned down and the morning
came the dead were tallied. Most of the able bodied adults in the village
were slain, and too many of the homes were destroyed. In the end, the
village decided to migrate to the gnome village on the surface, choosing the
protection of the Justices over being on their own. This is where Wigoseth's
story really begins.
On first glance, the figure before you appears to be a small child. Dark
blue, almost violet-colored eyes peer out at you underneath short militantly
cut brown hair. Extremely short in stature, he seems so thin, he might blow
away. As emaciated as he looks, his gaze is steady. Short arms with
well-manicured, long fingers, and a surprising amount of hair on his arms.
Finally, his legs seem too thin, stick-like in nature, offset by overly
large feet for a figure that small.