Dasaseowiriand “Das” Foechuckle
This gnome is short and of dark complexion. His elven accent is thick even when speaking common. His fine attire and jewelry leads you to guess that he is of rock gnome decent and thus has lived in the Feywild’s underdark.
In Common Das has the annoying habit of adding most + an adjective to his sentences ie most esteemed friend or most valued Diadem
1. Grin and Larissa have bought items from Dasas’s Shop
2a. Dasas hired the Knight’s Order to retrieve the Diadem from the Goblin Mine
2b. This was the same mission he sent Bragrum on
3. Grin hired Tyrra and Grin to deal with Reginald Skydodger
4. Dasas has posted a call for ritual components on the keep board
I grew up in the Council Warrens. My father was a merchant specializing in items obtained from the Feydark or fallen Eladrin cities. When I reached a proper age he took me with him on occasion but after I got the scar he bought me an apprenticeship for the Crossers.
It was my magic learning that eventually got me into the trouble. I was working for an eladrin caravan opening the Twilight Paths thru the Yuir Woods when the plague struck. My name had already been muddled by the most excellent pranks I had played upon a nymph and satyr.
Alas, that tale would out last our drink and post pone the one tale promised, perhaps another night. The caravan master came to me in a fury. The sky was alight with blue flame as I lay in my tent sleeping off a mighty hangover. The bright blue flame was like scalding water thrown into my eyes. He gruffly barked some command at me. I quickly dressed and staggered to my feet. The world outside my tent was a world gone mad. The wheels of the carts had come to life, the unicorns were sprouting wings, and blue fire licked the edge of every surface. Eladrin ran about screaming the sidhe had come among us and were seeking revenge.
The caravan got under control as the stern satyr took out his pipes and started to play. The music seemed to have an effect on the fire. Two hours later we made it to the fey crossing at the edge of what is now called the Plaguelands. I began the ritual to jump the crossing and get us far away from what we thought was a local event. I never would have guessed that the event had wracked all the planes. As the caravan drove thru, I strained my will to hold the crossing open. The ground shook, a rift opened up on the road behind me. A crack so large that I thought He Who Crawls was coming up from the Feydark. The world rippled and the crossing faded.
When I awoke I found myself in the mortal realm, standing in a fountain in the city square of P’bapar. I was all alone. A few weeks later I found three other gnomes in P’bapar. Over the years we formed a loose trading guild with others of our kind trapped in Ormarond. I made a small fortune mostly due to my knack for finding lost magic in piles of useless junk. My partners were jealous and I moved out here. My caravans still bring the consortiums’ products to my customers but I know longer get the lion’s share of the profits.