Irraglin - The Age of Carving
“Feel my amazing brain! Go on, touch it!”
Quayle Berrywhistle, son of a long line of Berrywhistles, none who have ever eaten a berry in their lives, is a crude, yet joyful Priest of the Sparkling Wit. On a day-to-day basis, you’d either spot him wearing a mossy leather jacket, or donning some priestly robes. His face could not be described as anything but awfully ugly, even for the already unattractive Svirfneblin. Only serving to further enunciate his inelegance, Quayle is quite fond of the odd tidbit, which over the years has taken its toll on his bodily proportions, to the point where you might consider him fluffy. When battling, he would wear his priestly great helm and a golden belt symbolizing Garl Glittergold’s golden nugget. In his hands he would be wielding a battle axe in combination with a circular shield.
Born the 13th of April, on the Communion of Laughter, Quayle grew up in a part of the Underdark under Yilad, but has spent his last fourty odd years in Sheath. Living in a tight-knit community he celebrated all of the gnomish festivities with his entire extended family. His father was a local Arbitrator, while his mother was a shroomstress – someone who makes clothing out of mushrooms. In total, Quayle has seven siblings, three brothers and four sisters, both younger and older than him, all of which he got along with well in their homely coffin. He was first accepted into the Church of the Sparkling Wit at the age of 84, after spending a couple of years working with his father. At first he was content staying with a small church in his community, but eventually he left for Sheath in order to study properly. Without a doubt, Quayle holds his father as his largest inspiration in becoming a mediator, and has certainly inherited his sense of humor.
Although most deep gnomes worship Callurdan Smoothhands, Quayle’s family followed Garl Glittergold, the patron deity of all gnomes. Quayle believes that a sense of humour makes life’s misery much more tolerable, something that aligns perfectly with the god of Luck and Trickery. To quote the holy dogma of the church: “A sense of humor is an important thing for anyone to cultivate, regardless of their hardships. The inhabitants of a community ought to cooperate for the greater good. Pranks are a sacrament. Authority figures shouldn’t take themselves too seriously. The tales and jokes of the gnomish people should be preserved, but change should not be feared.” If there was ever one thing Quayle despised, it would be people and organizations who took themselves too seriously.
Not having lived on the surface for too long, Quayle finds day and night cycles extremely unnecessary, and would prefer to stay awake at night and sleep during day time if possible. Unfortunately, most surfacers disagree on this, and being the conformist that he is, Quayle usually sleeps through the night. In the few years he has spent on the surface, Quayle has developed a quite impressive fear of gryphons, constantly checking his surroundings in order to avoid a potential airborne kidnapping.
Similarly, Quayle also has an extreme distaste for surface-dweller food, having grown up with Svirfneblin salted blind fish, salted mushrooms, salted fermented fish spirit, and the odd salted rothé. To accommodate for this, Quayle usually covers his food with salt, to the loathing of some, and the reverence of more humorous folks.
Hoping to make the world a better place through the word of the Priceless Gem, Quayle has taken it upon himself to traverse the world of Irraglin, solving problems and cracking jokes on the way.
~ Cedric, The Wandering Wizard