Hettle
A Warforged college of creation bard. He seemed relatively harmless at first glance; a warforged with a tattered cape and a dulcimer slung over his back. Anyone who's ever encountered another warforged however would notice that he had some unusual features. While a few of his components were of standard gnomish design, others looked rather unique, with the most striking examples being his chicken legs and his single eye.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Heddel was found by a gnome somewhere within the province of Ellonia. Her name was Gytha and she was very... (Processing adequate adjective. Adjective acquired) unique compared to his previous gnomish masters. Even for a gnome, she was quite old and especially for a gnome, she had a rather choleric temperament. However, her mechanical skills were remarkable, which was made clear through her ability to bring a warforge unit back from what would usually be classified as a non-recoverable state. She also designated him with the name "Heddle" rather than Unit 29373928h2a (Reason: "No way in hell am I going to waste the rest of my time on Aeterna tryin' to remember your serial code, bot." cont. "I think Heddle is a nice name but if you’d like a different one then just say so dearie.")
Not only was she a remarkable mechanic, but her skills in the arts were able to promote programmed sensations of (awe? inspiration?) within Heddle. He often wondered where precisely she had acquired these talents, and she would give him (small) tidbits of her life. Through such dialogues, Heddle was able to determine that she was an explorer of the main world, where the discoveries accumulated through her expeditions were stored within Centennia's (now destr□□ed) databank system. There was so much about her life that was not discussed (very unfortunate), but Heddel was happy to listen to everything she was willing to talk about. He was also happy that she wanted him to play music with her, despite the fact that his creative skills were rather lacking in comparison.
However, all organic life, no matter how extraordinary, must succumb to age and Gytha (dearest Gytha with her boisterous fiddle) was no exception. She passed on to join many (so, so m□□any) of her Gnome brethren. Try as he might, Heddle could not save her the way she had saved him, and yet she was not angry with him (query: why?). He would not forget her (will not allow it, cannot allow it) nor the final commands she had given him.
The third final series of commands, given 16 hours prior to death (quote): “Now listen here Heddle, when I’m gone, I don’t want you wanderin’ out there like you did before. I don’t want you moseying about hoping that someone will pick you up and order you around. You’re more than a drone Heddle, so no more masters and no more ‘yes mam’s or ‘sir’s. I want you to become your own individual, to seek out the astonishing wonders our planet has to offer and to change with your environment. Give yourself a new name and live, for both our sakes.”
When asked “How?” (quote): *laughter* “That’s for you to find out, you old bucket of bolts!”
The second final series of commands: Consisted of requests to help assist with baking some (delicious, homely) pecan tarts.
Final command: Request to open the curtain and snuff out the candles. She wanted to look at the stars, as she did every night.
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Hettle buried his former master in a small pumpkin patch along with her fiddle as she told him to years prior. Processing her final requests, he had hoped to gain a little understanding of who he was, of who he was always meant to be. For now, he was simply Hettle: aligned with no side, servant to no one.
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