D&D - Eberron - KA
- Likes: Practical Jokes and Trickery (magical and nonmagical); Intellectual Challenges; Nature; Killing Goblins; to be underestimated
- Dislikes: Brute Force; Unneccessary Bloodshed; Crowds of people; Goblins; to be pressured into something
- Manners: Polite, yet provocative and sarcastic
- Appearance: Looks like your average Gnome (not particular rich, but not poor either)
Background before he met the party (early years of the last war); In the region of todays continent of Zilargo in a Forests south of the city of Reven:
Tibitz smiled. The two goblins surrounding him inched closer and closer to his position, not sure what to think of a lone gnome sitting in plain sight in the midst of a clearing in the forest outskirts just south of a small settlement near Howling Peaks. Stragglers from the Goblin-Army, Tibitz thought to himself. “Lucky me!” he sarcastically babbled to himself in a tone that seemed out of place. Memories from a brutal battle over the town came into his mind. Altough they seemed distant, he knew the slaughter of his family by the hand of the Goblin-Army happened just a few hours ago. They were not prepared for the onslaught and even the old and powerfull gnome-magic could not save most of the cities population from the sheer force that came in the form of the massive number of goblin-grunts. The only chance he saw for himself to escape the slaughter was to make a run for the forests. Each and every step of his flight accompanied by the screams of his kin would forever be an eternal burden on his soul. He wished he could have done more, could have done something to help and ease his conscience and now he was sitting in this clearing, his hands tight to his back, waiting for someone else to do just that: “Lucky me!” he babbled again. The two Goblin-Warriors, now feeling confident, seeing the gnome so vulnerably presented for their blades, walked the last few steps to close range in front of him without further hesitation. The slightly bigger one pulled up the gnomes head and wanted to shout something humiliating before the final blow or cutting of his head. The only thing leaving the goblins throat was a blood-spitting gurgle. Bewilderedly clenching to his throat just before the blood shut up into his eyes and his heart stopped beating he saw the gnome-shape in front of him blurring into a giant bear that was now slashing across the other Goblin-Warriors face, strinking him down. Sitting ontop of his branch in one of the trees overlooking the clearing, Tibitz ceased his powerfull illusion-spell, which led the Goblins to believe they were engaging a helpless fool, and watched as the enraged bear tore the goblins limb from limb. “One at a time!” he thought, “sometimes even two”. He knew his role in this raging war was not to be one on the frontlines, but somewhere in the confusion that allways accompanied such endeavours of chaos and bloodshed. A place where a gnome with his talents was of best use. To himself and to the revenge that drove him foward: “One at a time!” he repeated. “Fitting though” he thought, “that it is the same magic, that got me out of their reach, that will now end their lives in this gruesome yet satisfying manner”.
And so Tibitz smiled.